Blown Cover Blown

A few weeks ago, there was a rally outside my job. Because I work for the city, people are allowed to have rallies and stuff in and around my building. 

A man of the people, I decided to watch the rally and listen in. The speaker started ranting against the "police state." My building's security guards were standing around the rally watching, and he started pointing them out.

"Look at all these security guards! 9, 10, 11 guards all around us watching every move!"

The crowd was sorta not into the whole thing. They half-heartedly glanced around at the security guards but gave no real reaction. It almost felt like they agreed that security should be there. At that point, the speaker then pointed at me, standing a few yards behind the crowd and the only person in a suit, and he called me out:

"And look, we have an undercover detective with us! Hello detective! There are so many murders for you to investigate but you have time to watch this rally?"

My mouth was agape. The crowd of about 50 people now looked at me, but most of them just smiled. I was a little embarrassed. However, I could not have been more excited to pretend to be an undercover homicide detective. I continued staring unflinchingly, but now crossed my arms, which I believe is how indignant NYPD detectives stand. It was as if I was trying to say, "yeah, you got me, but whatever buddy." 

I walked away a few minutes later, but as I did, I pulled out my cell phone and pretended to text Mayor Bloomberg.

Steve Jobsed

I miss Steve Jobs.

I never thought I'd ever say that, but then the iOS6 happened, and with it its horrific Maps feature from a 90's GPS company.

A lifelong New Yorker, I still double check the map on my phone whenever I take the subway. Now, when I ask my phone for subway directions, it suggests I buy an app. It used to give me directions. It used to give me great directions. Now, that's over. Now, I have to wait until I get home and then buy an app.

Had Steve Jobs been alive, I suspect that this would have been an awkward conversation between he and his programmer:

Programmer: And then when they click transit, we give them suggestions for apps they should buy. We no longer give them transit directions that they got on the old phone.

Steve Jobs: Are you fucking kidding me?! I get pissed off about fonts, and you're taking away a key feature from one of our most used apps?! Fucking finish this app or I'll throw you off a Chinese factory roof.

Meanwhile, Tim Cook's conversation went a little differently:

Programmer: And then when they click transit, we give them suggestions for apps they should buy. We no longer give them transit directions that they got on the old phone.

Tim Cook: Great! We'll make more money that way. 

In Steve Jobs' Apple, our wallets were pilfered, but at least we got rocked to sleep. Tim Cook is taking a more old school, schoolyard bully approach to taking our money, and I'm just not into it.

Night Rider

A few weeks ago, I decided to take a night time ride from Astoria to the Lower East Side down 2nd Ave.

At one point, it got really busy and a car beeped at me, even though I was in a clearly labeled bike lane. I ignored it, but a doorman who witnessed it started yelling at me:

"You stupid motherfuckers! Why don't y'all do this shit? See how easy it is to hold a door open and wear a suit?! Look at me, smiling is the hardest part of this job!"

I realized he thought I was a Latino delivery man. I felt kinda bad, considering these guys are hard-charging pros, and I could barely get a few blocks without incident.

If there are Latino delivery men who are thinking about switching over to doorman, definitely consider how smiling will be the toughest part of your job.

WE'RE Hiring

More and more companies have adopted a new advertising campaign. You’ll see it in windows across New York City: “we’re hiring” signs.

A few years ago, when stores were hiring, it looked as if they were annoyed by the whole thing. They’d put up a sign with the exact position needed (cashier, stock-boy) and made sure nobody wasted their time (must have experience, part-time only). 

Now, companies put up bright manufactured posters. There’s no explanation about what position they’re looking for: it just says, happily, “Hey, We’re Looking for People Like You! YEAH YOU!”

Of course, this is an advertising campaign. When the recession started, some exec was like, “there’s a growing new market – unemployed people. How do we tap into that market?”

Another exec was like, “well, let’s tell them we’re hiring, and that’ll get them in the store. In fact, they’ll probably buy something because they want to show the manager how interested they are or how much they love our product.”

They then shook hands and released a memo. 

Not Good Humor

Today as I walked past a panting young runner on a Central Park bench, she dropped her water bottle and it rolled to my feet. I picked it up.

As I handed the bottle to her, I smiled and said, “I’ve seen this pickup move before.”

Not only did she cut off her “thank you,” but she averted her eyes as though I went supernova.

I walked away as fast as I could without jogging.

You Must Be Drunk

I was at a party in Brooklyn about 6 years ago when a girl approached me and started chatting me up. We chatted for like 20 minutes, and I politely walked away to get a drink.

While at the "drinks" area, my roommate-at-the-time walked up to me intoxicated and said, "heyyy, you and that girl, huh? She's cute."

"Are you drunk?" I answered.

The girl's friend, some asshole, overheard me and gave me a dirty look. I then realized that it sounded like I meant only a drunk person would be dumb enough to think that me and that girl would hook up!! I didn't - I sincerely just wanted to know if my roommate was drunk! But the damage was done, and he walked over to her to relay what a dick I am.

I was so upset that I wanted to leave. Luckily, the host of the party chose that exact moment to turn off the lights and force everyone at the party to dance to the entire Michael Jackson Thriller album. 

I honestly still feel really guilty about it, though. 

We're All Going Down

I was coming down a down escalator when I saw a young woman approaching it down below.

"Oh, she's going the wrong way," I thought, "I hope she sees it in time."

The woman, who was sans phone or anything distracting, looked at the escalator and put her foot on it. I gasped, fearing for her safety. However, the escalator gently spat her back out. She then tried putting her foot on it again, but it again pushed her back.

Finally, she looked up at me coming down and asked, "what the hell is wrong with this thing?"

"Uh, the up escalator is on the other side," I explained.

She grimaced and angrily exclaimed, "there's another one?!" before walking towards the other side.

Don't Mess Up Jurassic Park

Hearing that Jurassic Park IV has been fast-tracked is pretty exciting. However, I’ve been hearing some pretty crazy rumors about it. Weaponized dinosaurs? A brontosaurus-raptor mix? A total reboot?!?!

Chill.

Though we celebrated Jurassic Park’s 20th anniversary a few days ago, all the elements for a successful Jurassic Park sequel lie in the original. Here are 5 major reasons Jurassic Park is the greatest movie of all time:

1. It’s called Jurassic PARK.

An element that’s missing from the later Jurassic Park movies, and for that matter all other dinosaur movies, is the actual gosh darn park. Jurassic Park II and III took place in Isla Sorna. I don’t give a shit about Isla Sorna. Ain’t no park there.

The reason Jurassic Park was so compelling was that everything looked like it was under control. And then when raptors were testing fences and opening doors and emailing, I was like, “oh shit, our technology cannot save us!” Pitting people against dinosaurs in Isla Sorna, the West Baltimore of research labs, makes me less excited because people are definitely fucked out in the open against dinosaurs.

The T-Rex was a lot scarier behind the fence.

2. Jeff Goldblum

I love all of Jurassic Park and the first 5 minutes of Lost World. Why? Jeff Goldblum.

Honestly, Jeff’s Chaos Theory Mathematician doesn’t need to be in Jurassic Park. You could just IM a Chaos Theory Mathematician and ask if a dinosaur park with raptors is a good idea, and he’d be like, “nah…brb.”

Yet, Dr. Goldblum inexplicably comes to the park and pretty much bags Dr. Sattler with his water down the wrist move (this has been in my arsenal for years) and utters the best line of the film, “Life finds a way.”

I didn’t love Dr. Goldblum in Lost World because he seemed to have lost his swag. He spent the movie worried about his daughter, girlfriend, and the baby t-rex, and I just kinda didn’t care anymore. Also, I will never forgive 3 for leaving him out entirely.

YOU DON’T DO JURASSIC PARK WITHOUT DR. JEFF GOLDBLUM!

3. Dr. Stattler is stupid hot.

Throughout Lost World, I kept wondering why Julianne Moore, who is a hottie, was dressed up in 12 jackets. Is Isla Sorna like 200 miles north of Isla Nublar? Look, if smoking hot Laura Dern wears short shorts in the original, you gotta put on shorter short shorts in the sequel, Julianne.

Also, making Dr. Stattler an old lady with a baby in 3 was such a slap in the face to both me and Dr. Grant.

Come to think of it, everything about Jurassic Park III is a slap in the face.

4. Best CGI Ever

20 years later, no movie has utilized CGI better. From Star Wars to Spiderman to Avatar, you feel like you’re watching a goddamn cartoon. Not so with Jurassic Park. When that T-Rex is about to chomp down on Dr. Jeff Goldblum in the back of that jeep, I still push back in my chair.

5. Jurassic Park isn’t really about dinosaurs.

The moral of Jurassic Park is that technology without ethics will only lead to our own demise. The movie isn’t really about dinosaurs – it’s about scientific perversion. Humans can’t control nature…blah blah blah.

The problem with the sequels was that they left out moral quandary. By the time we got to the third one, Mowgli is throwing smoke bombs. I don’t give a shit about Mowgli throwing smoke bombs.

I want to see Ned’s screensaver announce, “ah ah ah, you didn’t say the magic word.”

I want Muldoon to ask, “the raptor fences aren’t out, are they?”

And finally, but most importantly, I want to see Sam Jackson ask people to “hold onto their butts” before calmly pushing a button. Because that’s all humans can really do! They can only push a button, while raptors and t-rexes and the spitting thing that killed Wayne Knight are all awesome.

What do I not want to see?

An allosaur/triceratops with a missile launcher on his back.

Oh, Phones

When I was 21, I met at a girl at a party and talked to her all night. It wasn't a terribly interesting conversation, but I was thrilled with the idea of meeting a stranger at a Brooklyn party that I might date.

A few hours later, she said she had to go and I offered to walk her to the train. She said she was taking a cab but asked if I would wait with her until she got one.

We walked to the street and to the corner, and as she hailed the cab, I asked if I could have her number.

The cab pulled up, and she looked at me and announced, "oh, phones."

She then got in the cab and it drove away.

I still felt pretty good about myself.

This Guy's (Not) A Fucking Genius

After placing my order at the fish and chips place near my place of business, the owner looked at one of his workers, pointed at me, and exclaimed, "this guy's a fucking genius."

Does he have a hidden camera in my bedroom? I wondered and worried.

His employee looked at me and asked, reasonably, why I was a genius. His boss explained:

"He takes his lunch now instead of at 12. No lines. No hustle and bustle. Just comes in, gets his lunch around 3, and now he only has an hour left to work. Genius."

I smiled, "yeah, it's nice."

The owner continued, "I'm never hungry at 12. I'm not even up. I bet you're still trying to wake up from partying the night before!"

"Yeah I'm barely up," I answered. 

His employee slinked away and I continued waiting awkwardly. However, I did so with a heavy conscience. Here this man believed I worked 9-5 and took my lunch hour at 3, when in reality, I work 11-7 and basically take my lunch at the typical 3 hour lunch interval. 

I'm not a fucking genius. I'm not even a genius.

However, in those 15 minutes it took to fry my fish and chips, I felt unstoppable.

Thank You, Officer

One of my dreams is to become an FBI Agent that keeps his own hours and has a great apartment on the beach and a great body.

Because the man would probably never let me pass a government psychological evaluation, I've resigned myself to the fact that this dream will probably not come true, at least not fully. So when I was told I would have to show my ID whenever I entered my place of business, I did the next best thing:

I put my ID in an FBI badge holder and keep it in the breast pocket of my work suit.

Showing my ID to the security desk went from, "ugh, it's in my wallet" to "I'm here on official business." It's become an amazing way to start each day. I give myself bonus points whenever I'm brave enough to keep my sunglasses on in the building.

However, recently the security officers in my place of business have caught on. Now when I flash my badge, I get this:

"Thank you, officer."

Whatever. First of all, I'm not an "officer," I'm an agent. If I was an officer, I'd hang my ID off my neck like my hero Detective Torres on New York Undercover.

Secondly, I don't appreciate the sarcasm. I needed somewhere to put my ID and I decided it was cooler to walk in as Fox Mulder rather than just some office drone.

Besides, if they keep pushing me, I'll say what I've dreamed of saying for years:

"This is a Federal case now."

This is part of my series this week: "I turn 28 in a few days, and these are the things I think about because I am an adult."

FuYouther Soccer Coach

I hope to one day coach my child's youth soccer team. Here are some details:

* We play the 3-4-3, with my child at the thankless yet crucial Defensive Halfback/Center Fullback hybrid I created just for him/her

* I wear sunglasses, a polo with the team color, dockers, and Sambas

* I give my star players a lot of shit

* I have an assistant that writes down all my notes during the game or practice

* During the game I yell either succinct instructions or "Wake up!"

* I'm extremely nice to all parents before and after the game

* I don't speak to fathers at all during the game

* I am courteous yet terse with mothers during the game

* I hold back praise for my child during the game

* Three moms have a crush on me

* My wife thinks I am too hard on our child and does not have a crush on me

'Til then!

Merit Badge

As I was walking to UCB Theatre on Tuesday to meet handsome teammate Amos Vernon for our pre-show dinner, I was stopped by an old woman with several shopping bags.

"Excuse me," she said with a folksy Irish accent, "are you walking to the end of the block?"

"Yes I am," I answered.

"Could you carry my bags to the end of the block with me?" she asked, "I live there."

Am I about to be the victim of a swindle? I thought to myself.

Along the way, she told me about her evening. She had gotten tired at the bank, but she had planned to get some groceries and wouldn't go back on her word. She asked me if I lived nearby and I told her I was performing at the theatre around the corner. She was happy for me.

When we reached the corner and her apartment, she started laughing about how old she was. She then imparted some wisdom upon me:

"Growing old isn't a great plan, but it's the best plan."

I bid her good night and she wished me good luck. Though she meant Harold Night, I chuckled at the idea that she was talking about growing old.

It Starts With A B!

My ladyfriend and I stood quietly on line, waiting to board our 8 am bus to Boston. Next to us was a half empty bus. A slightly angry couple walked up to the line.

"We were here first!" they announced.

Nobody on the line said anything. The bus company representatives were busy looking at a paper while talking into a walkie talkie, so the couple walked to the front of the line.

"We were here first, but we didn't see the line!"

The man looked into the bus and walked on, followed by his woman. A few minutes later, the door closed, and the bus drove away. Again, the passengers on line remained silent.

"Ok, folks, just follow us and we'll get you to your Boston bus around the corner," announced the bus representative.

I'm not sure how the couple missed us getting on line, and I'm not sure where they thought their rudeness was going to get them, but I know where it did get them.

Baltimore.

These Guys Lost The Cold War

"These guys gotta get their act together," announced the middle-aged gentleman on a crowded NYC subway. He was referring to an announcement about a re-route due to construction, and his fellow passengers jostled each other in silent agreement. That is until a 6 foot and a half giant with a strong Russian accent spoke up.

"Sir, if I may, I think what they are trying to do is very admirable."

The middle-aged man looked up, surprised. The Russian continued.

"This city is one of the only, if not the only, major city with a 24 hour subway system. Other cities can renovate during the night, but this city has to renovate while people are using the system, it's like redesigning your dining room while somebody's trying to have dinner."

I, a few feet away and pressed up against a subway door, smiled at this analogy. The Russian was not finished.

"Also, this system is so old, many of the schematics have long disappeared, so they have to make guesses on how to make improvements."

"What guesses?" asked the middle-aged man, "they know where the subway is."

"No, it is not that simple," laughed the Russian, "there are many mysteries they have to solve. For example, Con Edison does not know where much of their power goes. They charge people wherever they can and they make a lot of money, but much of the power they produce is lost somewhere in the subway, and the MTA engineers have to make educated guesses on how to find that power."

Now the whole train was silent, all listening to the mystical Russian explain New York to us.

"Do you work for the city or something?" asked the middle-aged man.

"No," answered the Russian, "I am an engineer and I came here to work for a private firm. But, I like to pay attention to what is going on around me."

The conversation ended there, and I stood astounded, realizing how honestly lucky I was to be pressed up against a train door in New York City.

Sweet Jetsons Reference

Today on my 6 train commute from work, I heard a man say, "Honey, look, Astor Place."

Continuing to play Bubble Bobble on my phone, I heard him say it again, "Astor Place."

A short pause later, he said yet again, "Don't you get it? Astor Place?"

"What are you talking about?" his wife asked.

It was at this point that the man went into his best talking dog voice and said, "Hello, I'm Astro."

Either this man is unfunny, or he is the funniest person on Earth.

Well, I know I was laughing.

Breakfast and "Bed"

This is an event that happened many days ago but I had recently rethought about it and came to a startling conclusion:

Many days ago, as I had said before, I and a few others were prepared a delicious brunch by my friend Ellena. After the brunch, after we said goodbyes, Ellena and I learned that we would be taking the train in the same direction, and so we did.

At my stop, I turned to Ellena, said goodbye, and walked towards the door. Deciding I should thank her again, I loudly said, "oh and thanks for breakfast!" and I walked out.

However, what I've recently realized is that what I did was very inappropriate. While Ellena and I had brunch with several people, the people on the train were not aware of that. In fact, I even said "breakfast" instead of "brunch," which would lead many people on the train to believe that Ellena and I had relations, followed by her serving me breakfast. 

"What a catch!" they concluded.

While Ellena is a catch, it's inappropriate to say things like, "thanks for breakfast" or "Don't worry, I'll get you a new mattress" to somebody in public because that may lead to salacious rumors and scarlet letters. I imagine that a gross man sitting across from her said, "I'd love for you to cook me breakfast, sweetheart!" as she shed a tear and hugged a teddy bear.

And so, I apologize Ellena - I promise I will choose my words more carefully in public settings.

MTA: Going This Way

I was at the W4th St station today, wondering quietly on what line the E would be running, when a D train pulled into the station. One of the MTA workers that open and close the doors had her window open, and a man approached her.

"Excuse me, what's the next stop for this train?" he asked.

The MTA worker looked at him and said, "wherever the tracks lead."

Now, this shocked me. I know for a fact that NYC trains don't just follow the tracks because they switch tracks and go Express and Local and whatnot. There are a million things these trains can do, so there was clearly an itinerary that either she didn't know or just didn't want to tell the man. The man knew this, and so he asked again.

"Where are you going next?" he asked, impatiently.

The MTA worker again responded, but this time without looking at him, "wherever the tracks go, honey."

At this point, a small crowd of similarly lost and slightly distressed people formed around the train window. As my brain started to process the hilarity of this woman's very unhelpful answer, I felt laughter form in my chest. However, I decided not to incite a riot by laughing at anybody's misfortune. Unfortunately, an older black man spoke up.

"So you just hit the gas and hope for the best, huh?" he asked sarcastically and slightly angrily. 

It's at this point the laughter which I was holding in my chest exploded, sending a small breath out of my lips and tears out of my eyes. I walked away, and the train left soon after. The original man started kicking trash onto the tracks, angrily yelling about "what a bitch" that woman was.

I guess you could add this to a list of reasons why the MTA may be lacking. Construction and cutbacks have severely hampered several stations and have led to widespread confusion, and a laid off workforce has led to MTA workers who are more tired and angry than usual. 

But, honestly, except for the part where people have lost money and/or time, I probably wouldn't want it any other way.

Ticket To Ride

There’s a man on my block who gets a parking ticket every day.

No, it’s not me, though I often have nightmares about getting a parking ticket where I break down and cry. Instead, it is a man who drive a large jeep with no rear window. Instead of a rear window, he creates a new one every morning, using duct tape and torn garbage bags.

Every night, with the neighborhood fast asleep, a cat looking for temporary shelter or a young hooligan looking to complete a very easy gang initiation breaks open his ephemeral back window. The next morning, the cycle repeats. It is a daily ritual that has driven me nearly berserk. Of course, I understand that not everybody has the money to replace a whole rear window, especially on an early 90’s jeep, but I imagine that after a year or so he’ll have spent the money needed to do so on duct tape and his sanity.

“Who is this man?” I often wonder…

I’ve only heard him speak once. He pulled up behind somebody that was parking, and noticing they left some space in front of them, he yelled out, “Yo, could you move your car forward all the way?!” The woman did so, and he jumped out with duct tape and a box of garbage bags.

Again, while his daily routine has stupefied me, I more or less understand. However, what I haven’t been able to understand is why he gets a parking ticket every day without any form of repercussion. The second part of his daily routine is grabbing the parking ticket on his front window and throwing it through his newly torn back window.

Excuse me, but, what? Can you do this? Can you just never pay parking tickets? I used to always laugh at movies or shows where people claim they have 20 speeding tickets, because I’m pretty sure after 5 you get automatically arrested. No cop in his right mind will just give a speeder a 19th ticket and say, “Well, I hope he either pays or learns his lesson this time.” But I guess meter maids really don’t have the authority or ability to do anything. As long as he never gets pulled over by a police officer, he’ll probably be fine.

Which brings me to my conclusion: this guy is a cop himself!!!

How else could he drive around so casually with what must be thousands of dollars worth of parking tickets on his record?

Basically, he gets pulled over every now and then and he just shows his badge. He doesn’t keep any police identification in his car because it would get stolen through the rear window!

I honestly came up with this conclusion as I wrote this. I'd like to thank the Boxcar Children, the Hardy Boys, and Nancy Drew.

The Girl Who Cries On My Block Every Day

About once a week, a woman of about twenty years of age cries loudly in the middle of my block.

Allow me to recount the tale:

Several months ago, I was on my way to the local food purveyor in want of sliced turkey and an avocado. I was delighted at my own culinary desire, and it was a beautiful summer day. As I reached the corner of my block, I happened upon two police cars with their lights flashing. As a normal nosy resident, I slowed down my pace and pretended to not look, surveying the scene. Across the street, a woman screamed at the top of her lungs:

"Keep that bitch away from my house and my son! She can't come to my house and act like that!" she instructed the police officers.  

There was a police officer with her, alongside a young man of about 18-21 years. On my side of the street loudly cried a young woman of about the same age, and she also had instructions for the police officers:

"He's a liar! Arrest him! He's a liar!!"

The officers looked at the young man, and, noticing that there was no witness stand around him, dutifully asked the young lady to go home and leave the scene. Her younger brother soon arrived, and they both walked back towards my apartment, where she cried in front of my window for a half an hour.

Within a matter of days, she and her boyfriend were making out in the same spot.

Over the next few weeks, I gathered that this young woman lives on the block to my right with her family. Her boyfriend lives on the block to my left with his mother. Since her family probably disapproves of this relationship as much as his mother does, they decide to meet in the very middle of their residences - across the street from my living quarters. 

Of course, I led this piece by acknowledging this woman cries every week, and she does. In between make-out sessions, she screams at her boyfriend so loudly that she starts to sound like a monster. She usually leads with a few impossible to understand taunts, and then she cries softly, followed by a "Hrrrrrrrrrrooooooooo-aahhhhh!" Admittedly, she cries for about a minute before her little brother leads her back, possibly even hearing her from where they live.

Sadly, on my latest trip back from the grocery store, I again ran into our Romeo & Juliet. However, this time, since I had to walk between them, I was able to hear what she was screaming:

"What do you mean you lost the money?! What do you mean you lost the money?!" 

Apparently, he lost some money. I felt bad for her, until she followed it up with:

"I don't do shit! I don't work! I don't go to school! How we gonna get that apartment without your money?!?"

It's easy to feel for a woman when the man who manages their finances loses their savings, but it's not easy to feel sympathy when she A. is bat-shit insane, B. doesn't add to that account, and C. wants to lock herself in a room with someone she's been screaming at for the past few months.

I nearly laughed as I walked past, as the young man only kept throwing up his hands and silently saying, "I just don't got it anymore." He seemed almost content that he had gotten out of their prior arrangement.

As I walked away, I heard the young woman scream, "That's it! That's it! You ain't gonna hear nothing from me anymore! It's over! You ain't gonna hear nothing from me!!!"

I know she was talking to her man, but I'd like to think that, somehow, she was also talking to me. 

And strangely, I'm going to miss her a little more than he does.