Scene and heard

Is there a single person in America (that ever watches TV) who believes that the Verizon commercials aren’t scripted and acted? Am I the only person who thinks it an insult to our collective intelligence that the ‘stars’ claim they are making a documentary? Please Verizon, don’t go back to James Earl Jones’ painful attempt at comedy, but do drop this farce!

It seems that half of the food establishments in New York sport 'Zagat Rated' stickers, including some places I know aren't that good. So I have two questions:

Does Zagat have a 'crap' rating?

If an establishment is given a crap rating, can it put a sticker up proclaiming that it is Zagat rated?

Take your date! Take your kids! This is so much fun.

As you enter the theatre, some people are already banging on the drums that await at the seats. The show is a troupe of South African drummers, dancers and singers. They take turns leading the audience in how to join in and do so with wonderful energy and humour.

A few stuffy folks couldn't quite let loose enough to be seen publicly enjoying themselves, but they were countered by the huge smiles on the faces of little kids. You applaud by banging the drum, so the encore call was truly cacophonous. You partly bond with those around you, as all are part of the show. You come out of there buzzing; wanting to go back. Wow!

I commute against the crowd. I live in Brooklyn and work in Jersey City. I have to take the R train to Rector Street, because Cortland Street, the World Trade Center stop is still closed for reconstruction. It was closed in August or September of last year and was supposed to re-open in April. But without explanation, it is now due to open in the Spring of 2007 – a 150% overrun. Not bad!

Anyway, back to my little gripe! When I am going down the stairs into the PATH station, I am going against waves of New Jersey residents who work in New York. Some have the cheek to give me funny looks, because I am in their way. At the Pavonia/Newport station, I will be at the top of the stairs, the tell tale ding dong signalling the closing doors of the train is dissipating in the distance, replaced by the sound of the train departing, and 15 people make a mad dash for the stairs to try and catch it. This is a madness repeated all over New York and the PATH system and frankly, I don’t get it. Can someone please explain it to me?

The scene: A rainy Saturday evening in the heart of Broadway – the Theatre district. Umbrellas undulating. Many people, those I took to be the tourists, were trying to avoid the umbrellas of their fellow theatre goes. Then there were those who just barrelled forward, regardless – more like bumper cars than the merry go round. As entertaining as all of this was to watch, I couldn’t help thinking it would have been far more, shall we say aesthetically pleasing, if people used a little more imagination when selecting their umbrellas. Why do 90+% have to be black?

After having the misfortune of emailing a particularly narcissistic woman from a dating site – she contacted me and I responded – I had the thought: ‘there are two types of people in the world: those who bend to the need of others, and the others.’

I went a Mets v Yankees game at Shea Stadium. 56 thousand fans, estimated to be 60/40 in favour of the home team, all sitting together. Lots of friendly banter. Just like a Tottenham v Arsenal game, thought I. And I don’t bloody think! The partisan cheering was all along the lines of alternating “Let’s go Yan-kees” “Yan-kees suck!”

Now against other teams, Mets fans sing “Let’s go Mets”, in more of a staccato than the Yankee two-note chant. My first thought was of how easily te Mets fans settle into the rebuttal role instead of cheering for their own team – like settling for second best. But as my friend Rawle pointed out. “Mets suck” has absolutely no rhythm to it. So if the Mets were to cheer for their own, the Yankee fans would have no possible rebuttal. Could this thought change Mets/Yankees games for ever?

On the subways, a large amount of people carry backpacks and shoulder strapped computer cases. Too many of these people seem entirely unaware of their temporary appendages, bumping into people or nudging them from their standing place. Are they rude or thoughtless?

At Union Square, I saw a 20-something attractive woman, wearing a red jersey sweater, same color red a-line, below-the-knee skirt; bright yellow, mid-calf socks and low heeled black pumps! Advice to women who are reading this: If you want to be noticed and remembered for dressing really badly, I doubt you could do much worse than this! Sadly, she probably thought everyone was looking at her because she looked so amazing! I did see the perfect hair style for her outside of Madison Square Garden a few days later: Shiny Platinum Blonde, stacked several inches high in what I can only describe as giant poodle curls.

Walking down Broadway one Sunny October Saturday afternoon, I saw a newlywed couple; she dressed in full white gown and head-dress, running across the street. As they walked back across, I saw a photographer on one knee. As I was passing, the couple ran back across. What a nice surprise!

One Saturday last summer, when walking downtown to a rendezvous with a friend, approaching Canal Street, my route was blocked by the start of a most unusual parade. Or at least it would have been unusual almost anywhere but here. The outfits were very skimpy and mildly fetishist. The men were all or mostly gay. There were few floats, none memorable and some drums. The dancers were unexceptional but had a lot of fun. At the sides of the road, ‘cops’ were stopping the crowds from crossing the road. Mostly women, they wore Village People hats, sunglasses, obvious fake NYPD jackets, skimpy leotards, fishnets, heels, bright lipstick and heavy eyeliner. The men also wore wigs. It lasted 15-20 minutes, tops and was one of the many diversions that are such a regular part of life in New York.

I do several classes in the gym around the corner from me. The young woman giving the class was counting “five, six, slow down, seven, eight, one more set, one, two, three, slow down” Me: “Try counting slower!”

Seen outside of a 99 cent store on 3rd Avenue in Bay Ridge: Two very excited, very large dogs that had been tied to a parking meter, straining for freedom. Across the pavement from them, the calico cat that lives in the store, sitting there calm as you like, feigning complete disinterest.

I have a $40 iron that heats up in less than a minute. Where I work, they have a very expensive colour printer that takes several minutes to warm up if has lain idle for a while. My question seems obvious, to me at least: Why can’t the printer manufacturers use the technology in the iron to warm the damn thing up!

I went to see the film ‘Thank you for Smoking’, which I thoroughly recommend for anyone with an intelligent aspect to their sense of humour. While I was approaching the cinema, I saw what looked liked a really tall man, then another right next to him, then a couple – make that several more, then I noticed a woman of equal stature; all part of a large sidewalk gathering. I looked down and saw that no, this wasn’t a Tall club gathering; they were on mini step ladders. It turns out that of all the days for me to go to the Lincoln Center Cinema for the first time, this was the World Premier of Basic Instinct 2. A few minor celebrities arrived in Limos and each was greeted by loud calls from the photographers (the ‘tall’ people). Then I saw what I thought was 3 20 something blondes and paid them no mind. But all hell broke loose! “Sharon! Over here!” “Miss Stone! Miss Stone!” “Just one more please, Sharon!” And I caught her through a sea of head and bodies. And you know what? She looks nowhere near her 48 years and is every bit as stunning as she seems on screen. Within minutes, there was no sign of the commotion on the street. A definite New York moment

On an uptown 1 train from Times Square: The platform was jammed solid. I have no idea how long it had been since the last train. I waited 20 minutes for the first train, which I couldn’t get on. The next one came after 3 minutes. The smell was dreadful, and while I was lucky enough to get a seat, a woman standing to my right was almost on my lap. After a few minutes, the train stopped and the conductor said it was due to train congestion ahead. A few people chuckled when I thought out loud that he was a bloody liar. What congestion? You need trains for congestion. But those guys always talk crap. Every day, when the ‘N’ train I used to take into work stopped on the Manhattan Bridge, the conductor felt obliged to apologise that we have stopped “due to a red signal”. Just in case we might have thought the driver was on his breakfast break!

I heard a most wonderful story on the radio while waking up one morning, and have been unable to find the details of the story. While in a concentration camp as a teenager, a young girl would throw bread and fruit over the fence for this man. He was moved to another camp and didn’t see her again until about 5 years ago. They married the following year. A New York Rabbi, hearing his story, gave him the chance to have a Bar Mitzvah, which he just did, at the age of 86. If that doesn’t choke you up at least a little, either I’m too sensitive….

Beware, New York motorists. I was walking in the Lower East Side with my former mother-in-law, when we both pretty much jumped out of our skins! A loud police siren came from a Yellow Cab and two guys, not in uniform, jumped out and ran towards the car in front of them. They were both big and looked like bruisers. Not sure that I wouldn’t have driven off in that situation. A fair crowd, all looking surprised and shaken, stayed and watched. I’m sure the men were cops, but DAMN! I have since seen a beaten up old van that also turned out to be a Police vehicle.

Someone I worked with set me up on a blind date with his sister-in-law. I was at Coney Island, close to our Brighton Beach rendezvous, when she called to say there had been an emergency with her daughter. I was carrying a long stemmed red rose. On the journey back, there was a father and his 4 year old daughter on their way to visit his parents. The girl was very excited about being on the train and was very talkative and sweet. After I chatted with father and daughter for a few minutes, I asked the dad if he would mind, then asked the girl if she liked roses, and gave it to her. Could the date possibly have given me as much pleasure as seeing that little girl’s smile?

At Union Square subway station, I have seen the oldest and youngest street musicians. First, a family band playing in Union Square Station , father, mother and two kids: a 6 year old girl singer and younger brother playing drums. The drums were basic, but the beat was constant and the singing was all in tune. Delightful! A couple of weeks later, I saw a man who looked to be well into his 80’s, hunched over an organ that had stuffed toys on it. He had two or three teeth stained by years of smoking and a genuine smile that could give small children nightmares, but he really seemed to be enjoying himself – and he could play!

Where I used to live in Montclair, mobile phone reception in my apartment was dreadful, so to avoid dropped calls, I would often go into the rear parking lot. On one such occasion, while I was talking with my then girlfriend, a noticed a flashlight being waved in the air as its holder, a new woman in the building, approached. She asked if I lived there and I nodded my head. Moments later, a car alarm went off, so I walked towards the front of the building. Flashlight lady was standing in the side entrance: “Do you live here?” “Yes!” “Well why are you trying to scare me then?” “I am minding my own business, trying to have a private conversation with my girlfriend. If you want to be scared, be my guest!” Days later, I saw the landlord and told him that his new tenant was a crazy woman. She had beaten me to him, telling him that I told her she should be scared of me!

In the space of one October week, I experienced weather conditions that would be considered strange elsewhere, the last of which was for me, the strangest. While walking in a 72 degree post rain sauna, the air was so damp my head became a ball of sweat, as if I had been exerting myself on a hot summer’s day. A couple of days later, I was drier walking in a drizzle! Then the flooding rains came. The official Central Park estimate was 13.25” in 8 days, but the bulk of this came in 4 days. When the clouds were clearing, intermittent raindrops of varying sizes continued to fall. Various thoughts came to me: The air was saturated and these were the drops that got crowded out on the way down. The air got so wet, it was, metaphorically speaking, ringing itself out. Or it was an upside-down bottle effect. On the first ‘dry’ day, it was sunny and warm. But if you looked into a shaft of sunlight at about 9am, you could see what looked like a torrential fine mist of drizzle, most of which evaporated before it reached ground level, so that even if you held your hand out, it would remain dry. I believe 2 or 3 drops did land on me, but they were dry.

People worry about the germs they might pick up from holding the poles on subway trains. But from my observations, this is an almost unwarranted concern and few people in New York sneeze into their hands, thus the poles are probably relatively untainted! On a New Jersey Transit train at the beginning of June, the woman sitting behind me sneezed full force onto the back of my head. I jumped forward in disgust and she asked what the problem was. When I told her, she claimed to have covered her mouth, but this was such an obvious lie, I felt that any more words from me were pointless. Couldn’t help wondering if this was the reason why a Bells Palsy appeared on the left side of my face the following day.

Radio commercials here are just so dreadful, I can’t imagine that some would be listeners don’t avoid the medium altogether just because of them! There are men putting on the voice that informs you that something funny is about to be said – only it never is. There are the women who have the bubbly, friendly, persuasive voice that you are supposed to trust. The loud mouthed impatient New Yorker is also ‘popular’. When one complained endlessly about the slowness of the boat he was on, asking if they wanted him to get out and push, I wished he would. Hopefully he’d get mangled by the engine! If you are a small business owner, don’t, whatever you do, open an account with Chase. If their ads are to be believed, their private bankers have taken on two new clients in the last year (“I’m a Chase Private Banker and I’d like to introduce you to my newest client…”). They must be doing something wrong! New York lottery has numbers talking about their finer points (“One movie and everyone thinks I’m unlucky… Just think about all the good stuff – Baker’s dozen?” or number one saying there must be a reason why the lottery put it first. I honestly don’t know how 18 became a Jewish Grandma trying to lay guilt trips on people!) I could go on. Probably already have!

Seen on billboards everywhere: “If you’ve ever given up your seat on a train, you’re a Mitchum Man.” When you consider that this is supposedly so strong the makers used to claim that you don’t need to use it every day – presuming, I’m guessing, that you don’t wash every day – the message, as I understand it is, that if you give up your seat on a train, you sweat profusely from your underarms, and that if you actually thought you were a woman, you are a poor misguided soul, living a lie.

Quote from a Bloomberg interview before his re-election – he had just been asked if it was fair that he outspend his Democratic challenger by 7 to 1, because he spends his own money: “The public isn’t stupid. You can’t buy an election.” A nice compliment indeed, but…. President Bush, Governor Schwarzenegger? Clearly, at least one of His Honour’s statements is open to dispute!

Heard on a New Jersey Transit train: “Hello-o! Hello, Myles? Can I speak with Mommy please? Myles? Myles? Can I speak with Mommy? Hello-o! Hello-o-o! Hello, Myles! Can I please speak with Mommy? Myles! My-les! He-llo-o! pause… Hello? Myles? Hello-o! Hello-o-o! And so on and on… and on!

There is a rather famous street performer here who goes by the name of The Naked Cowboy. Even in quite cold weather, he can be seen in nothing more that a pair of stars and stripes biker shorts cum swimming trunks. He plays guitar and sings. And like Batgirl to Batman and Supergirl to Superman, he now has a female counterpart - The Naked Cowgirl. She dresses in a skimpy stars and stripes bikini, pretends to play guitar and an excuse for singing barely escapes her lips, although you wouldn’t know that if you didn’t get close. The whole ‘act’ barely held my attention for as long as it took me to pass the busy section of Times Square that I was passing through on my way home. There was, however, an enthusiastic group of men with cameras (think of the ultimate camera-toting caricatures) who were altogether more impressed than I.