Going West

Here in New York City, going on a West bound journey -- often means taking a train to New Jersey. It's not that New Jersey is that far, it's just that  people living there have a different mindset than New Yorkers. So for some of  us it's a bit like going to a foreign land.

I have an aunt that actually told me one day: "well, I'm going to another country today" --so when I asked her where (and I'm not making this up) answered me:  "why...to New Jersey, of course!"  As if to say---doesn't everyone know this? But I like visiting New Jersey, I have friends and relatives living there that would not, for all the money in the world--move to New York. They can not understand why I don't want to live there.

To me the journey to New Jersey, it's an adventure all by itself. Since I don't have a car, and don't like to travel by bus, I have to make my way to Penn Station, where I can take New Jersey Transit trains. This to me is a great way to travel, as in a train you get to relax, and can take in the scenery as the train rolls along the various towns, etc. Unfortunately-- most of the trains in use now, are really ancient., and not the most comfortable. They are small and cramped, and not equipped to handle the huge amount of people that use them to get around.

The last time a group of us took the train, we were fortunate to find seats. That was the good news, the bad news was that my seat was one of those decrepit seats with big springs inside, and there was one broken spring, that made it very uncomfortable to sit. The whole trip I had to sit on just one corner of the seat, so as not to get punctured on my backside.

The worst ---was the lack of shock absorbers, as the train went on the rails at high speed, every time the wheels hit a bump, people would be sent flying up on their seats, it looked really funny. And was a constant source of amusement for us, as we were on a trip that would take an hour to get us to our destination.

After a while, I decided to stand up, since--- between the springs on the seat, and the constant bouncing up and down--it was getting quite annoying. By the time we got to our destination, I felt  like a milkshake, and thinking that maybe getting a car wouldn't be such a bad idea.

Lunch in Paris

In our great European adventure we finally arrived in Paris. Wow! we couldn't believe we were in the City of Lights, we felt like this was a dream, soon enough, though, the Parisians brought us down to reality. As we tried to use our dictionary French, they let us know that our pronunciations were not to their liking.

I wouldn't say they were rude and nasty--but rather condescending as in: oh, look at the dumb Americans, they can't even speak the right way! but we didn't care one bit, and actually--just to annoy them--- kept mispronouncing the words on purpose--take that you snobs!

Anyway we really loved the food and the wine, say what you will, but the French have some of the best foods and wines in the world, and Paris is a beautiful city. So we decided to enjoy the culture and the place and ignore the nasty people.

In that spirit, we decided that to live the classic fantasy, we just had to east lunch at this really nice outdoor cafe near the Eiffel Tower, and picked a table that would give us a clear view to it. Dictionary in hand, we scanned through the menu and ordered some really good food and wine. We felt so cosmopolitan that we forgave the waiter for his bad attitude and just enjoyed the meal.

We got caught in talking about this and that, and then one of the group reminded us that, hey, we had a train to catch, so we just collected our stuff, go up--pushed the chairs back, and just started walking down the sidewalk towards the Tower.

As we are walking, we hear somebody shouting: Monsieur, Mademoiselle, Madam!--we start laughing--look at that crazy man run! wonder what's wrong with him? So we stop, and the man catches up to us--panting, he says--thank goodness I caught you..what are you doing? trying to get me fired?! We look at him--what in the world are you talking about? Do not play the fool with me--he says, you people ate the big lunch, and then just casually walk away without paying! that's what!

We stood there shocked, oh no--we had been so busy talking, that we genuinely forgot to pay the bill. We tried to apologize, but the waiter wouldn't hear it. You must come back and talk to my boss! I do not believe any of you--you hate us and tried to eat for free--but I was wise to your tricks--now you must pay!

Fine, we said, so we went back to the cafe, kind of placed the blame on the snippy waiter and paid the bill. The whole incident made us agree that the act the waiter put on was so entertaining that we gave him a really nice tip, just to spite him--as he was looking daggers at us while mumbling stuff about miserable Americans...

The Shoes Incident

It pays sometimes to expend a little bit more money at the beginning  --maybe then you can avoid the consequences if things don't go quite the way you figure, and you pay more at the other end.  Unfortunately, that's not the way I figured it, back when I started my first (very low-paying) job.

This was in one of the companies that require you to dress, as they say--business like. You know the drill--smart looking clothes, shoes, good haircut, etc., etc. But when you are making a meager salary, you can't afford the brand names, so you go for the knock-offs, cheap imitations, which is what I did. I figured--hey it looks the same, what are they going to do...check the label?

That was my reasoning for buying these really very good looking shoes, they looked modern and went very well with my outfits--and hey--you can't beat ten dollars! So there I was Monday morning, headed to work. Now I lived about two blocks away from the nearest subway station, and it was a short walk, which I sometimes  made shorter by going through this large parking lot, to cut the distance to the subway entrance.

So anyway, on a semi-cloudy morning--as I was walking through the parking lot, already a block away from my place, happy in my new shoes---the sky got really dark...and next --drenching rains! This caught me totally by surprise--I did not have an umbrella...luckily I had a plastic bag which I used as an impromptu umbrella to cover my head, and kept walking.

When--disaster hits me! As I walk in the rain, next thing I know the soles of both of my new, wonderful shoes, became unglued and dropped-off. Here I was walking suddenly barefoot--with just the tops of the shoes covering my feet. Nooooo! now what---- I definitely could not go t work like this--what to do? If I missed this train I was going to be late for work, but I couldn't very well go to work barefoot either. So I had no choice but to pretend I enjoyed walking through the parking lot, with my feet completely soaked and soggy. I got back home, faked the sickest voice I could (cough and everything) and called in sick. As I had no paid sick days--the cheap pair of shoes wound up costing me a day's salary!

Manhattan and the Middle Ages

Living in New York City, sometimes the constant noise of people, cars, trucks, bikes, and other urban noises, the rushing around, the crowds--modern life in general---make you forget about the simple joys of doing nothing.  You no longer remember  the small things, and stress begins to take over.

When this begins to happen to me, I have my remedy, and this involves traveling to an exotic place that does not require an airplane or a passport---even better-- you don't even have to leave Manhattan. This wonderful place is The Cloisters located in the northern part of the island at Fort Tryon Park.

This place resembles a Medieval Abbey, with gardens and buildings reflecting the architecture of Europe from about the twelfth to the fifteenth centuries. Once inside the place, you encounter the art, music, and gardens dating back from the ninth to the sixteenth centuries. And suddenly the modern world is left far behind, as you wander throughout the gardens and the galleries getting a glimpse of a life from long ago.

Since The Cloisters are located in a four-acre setting, overlooking the Hudson River, the views from there are simply magnificent. The sense of serenity that is all around you, truly make you believe that you have left the modern world behind--as your very soul feels that is is being refreshed, reborn. When you leave this great place--life seems to acquire meaning again. Find out how to get there and as a favor to yourself, visit this oasis in the midst of the modern chaos.

Bottle of Wine

Sometimes it seems that Fate looks to you and says--hmm let me have a little fun with this one... and throws things your way to see if you meet the challenge. Apparently one of my friends was chosen to be the one that Spring. There he was, all excited about traveling to London to meet with the girl of his dreams, with his biggest worry being what special gift he could get for her.

Then the thought occurred  to him---why not bring her something unique? So he went and bought her a bottle of wine, from a rare vintage that you could only get in the USA. There!... he said to himself, she will love this.So with that decided, he proceeded to pack it safely for the long trans-Atlantic plane ride.

He found a cheap flight, which unfortunately was not a direct flight, but no matter, he was London bound. When he finally gets to London, he claims his bags and then decides to take the train into the city. Now, I must mention here, that my friend did not tell the girl that he was going to visit her, it was going to be a surprise. So he had it all planned out, he would show up at her door, and surprise! here he is and look at this great bottle of wine!

Liking to travel light, he only had this one large backpack, for all his stuff. Which meant that as he approached her neighborhood, he had to take out the bottle of wine, so that he could have it in his hands as he knocked on the door of her apartment. In his mind he played out the scene: he knocks on the door---she opens the door and he says surprise! and after hugs and kisses he tells her let's celebrate with this bottle of wine!

Well, he gets to her building, runs up the stair--so excited--and then it happens--he gets to her front door---rings the bell..and as he's waiting for her to open the door---the bottle slips out of his hands and breaks into several pieces on the floor, there was wine running all over. When she opens the door---as he told me--all she sees is him standing there...in shock. As she was not expecting him at all--she is puzzled, why is he just standing there, not saying a word ...did he come all the way from the USA to make a spectacle of himself?

My friend told me that he was so embarrassed he just told her --hello, a few more words, then practically ran out of the building, went to a nearby park, sat on a bench and just cried.

Supermarket Vignette

Believe it or not, if you want to see a microcosm of the neighborhood you live in--go to the local supermarket. There depending on the community, you can find all sorts of exotic foods and people. I am fortunate enough to live in a place that has a good variety of what here is called "ethnic" foods. Which is really code for--foods other people like and we don't have a clue about them.

Also it seems that a lot of people don't think that anybody is paying attention to how they are dressed. After all this is the supermarket--right? This leads to all kind of bizarre sights. For example this lady made me do a double-take. She was dressed in this sprayed on, spandex pants, that showcased every molecule of cellulite on her body. Frankly, it's was a sight to make you gag.

Then there are the ones that seem to have a blue-tooth device permanently attached to their skulls, they can't seem to stop talking! They go on in excruciating detail about everything they are buying. Those I keep far away from, because when they get in the car, they continue talking. You also have the little old ladies, with three strands of hair left, that insist--on fluffing it up, so that it looks like cotton candy on their heads.

But the best are the mummies, no, not mothers, I means those men and women that due to a host of bad habit in their youth, now look like those mummies you see at the museums. All in all, it's fun just to observe this parade of people, letting their guard down and being refreshingly normal, human beings.

Patience and Security

If you have ever traveled with a group of people, you know the interesting dynamics that develop. At first, everyone is thrilled and excited to be together, looking forward to whatever the trip brings, and all are in a good and jovial mood. Then the journey begins---and things go downhill from there.You find out that this or that person is an insufferable snob, those over there are really cheapskates, trying to get others to pay for them, you have your flirts, your loudmouths, and so on.

With our group there was all that going on and worse. We happened to be  stuck with a lady that insisted on going off on her own. So that many times--- the tour leader had to search for her before we could go on to our next stop. There we were in Florida, visiting many of the local attractions, like the Everglades (beautiful!), going on a nature walk, etc. And every time, at every place we went--this woman would disappear. It got so annoying, the guide having to waste time looking for her, that honestly--the rest of us were all in favor of just letting her stay lost, so that we could enjoy our tour.

Finally the tour was over and it was time for us to go back home. So there we were at the airport, and the tour guide was doing a head count, when---you guessed it---this lady was missing. Now Miami International airport is huge, so it's very easy to get lost in there.We thought, oh no...we are going to miss  our flight because of this woman. So we formed a search party and started going into every shop and restaurant looking for her, while keeping an eye on the clock, so that we could check in for our flight.

The tour guide, seeing that we were running out of time, and still not having found her, decided to have her paged, with one hour remaining. She heard her name, and calmly shows up at the security checkpoint, with two very large paper bags --loaded with oranges. Oh--she says--I just couldn't leave Florida without bringing home these delicious oranges.

We were yelling at her to please hurry, we were running out of time. This made her flustered and nervous, and as she ran towards the security scanner entrance--she ran into someone, and next thing we know the bags of oranges fly out of her hands, and there are oranges rolling all over the place! The security people and everyone else is scrambling  to pick up the rolling oranges, we grab the bags and start telling people to please help us put the oranges back.

Then we hear that boarding has started for our flight. The heck with the oranges, we thought--we have to get to our plane. But the lady says--that she wants to collect every single orange--she paid good money for them--and she won't go home without them! Our patience had just about run out with this woman, but she made a big scene about it. The security people, also trying to do their job, helped collect all the damn oranges and finally we went to board our plane.

While the whole group was really angry at all this turmoil--the woman herself was as nonchalant as if nothing had happened--telling us to just relax and take it easy, see--she told us---I got all my oranges, and the security people were quite friendly and helpful, why are all of you so upset---we made the flight--right? You people should just learn to relax--- make the most of your time. And with that she settled into her seat and happily ignored all the aggravation she caused for the rest of us.

The Unselfish Taxi Driver

Three of us were on our way to Seville, Spain, very sure of ourselves as we headed to the "wonderful" hotel a friend of ours had recommended. The fact that he had been there five years before, did not bother us--as we thought--this is Spain, how much can change in five years. So we didn't give it any further thought.

We got our luggage, and headed for a taxi. We got this big taxi, driven by a middle-aged man, who seemed quite nice and chatty, giving us a kind of tour as he drove us, telling us little facts about places as he drove past them. Then he asked us what hotel we were going to--we gave him the name and address.

He suddenly got very quiet, then he spoke  in a serious voice---I would not want to take you there, that neighborhood and that hotel are not good, they have seen better times. We said --oh no...this hotel was highly recommended to us...He turned to face us, look--you seem like nice people, I could not live with myself if I bring you there, but I tell you what-- I'll bring you there and go in with you, and if you don't like it I can show you a better hotel in a nicer neighborhood. We agreed and he took us to the hotel.

Look, he said, so you don't think I want to steal your luggage, I'll go in with you. So all four of us went into the hotel. And--oh my....we saw a shocking sight, something I thought you only saw in the movies. The place was big and very, very empty, the front desk was literally covered with about an inch of dust --all over--cobwebs were dangling from everywhere. The woman who was --I guess--the concierge, seemed as shocked to see us as we were to see her. At first she was speechless--then she found her voice and said --that ...oh yes...they had plenty of available rooms. Then we noticed on the side, this creepy looking man--just eying us--the same way a hungry tiger eyes his next meal.

The taxi driver gave us this knowing look---you see, I told you so. We did not need to see anything more, we practically ran out of that place and into the taxi. OK we said, where is this other hotel you mentioned. This unassuming man, then drove us to one the nicest hotel in Seville. And told us to enjoy our vacation in Spain, when we tried to pay him, he would not take our money.

We told him, but you saved us and our vacation, please take the money. No, he said, my payment is the knowledge that you will always remember Spain and at least some of its people in a good way; and with that he drove away. He was right, we will always remember him and his unselfish kindness.

Riding the Quad Bike

I had never heard of the quad bike, so when I saw that it was this great bike that had a little canopy and seated up to four adults, I was intrigued and thought: what a great idea for a family outing! My cousin and I thought that this would be a great way to treat our two elderly aunts (past their 80's) to an outing around the park. We two would sit in the front and pedal, while our aunts would take in the views, take pictures and generally enjoy themselves. The way we saw it it was a win-win situation, because me and my cousin would also benefit by getting some much needed exercise.

What I didn't count on, was that my cousin was sadly way out of shape! We paid for the bike rental and off we went, but my cousin, from the get go--was huffing, puffing, and grunting every step of the way--as she struggled to pedal. It got so bad, that I had to keep asking her--if she was alright. Yes--puff---yes--grunt, grunt--of course I'm alright! I'm in perfect shape! OK , I said, but the noises became so bad that one of my aunts couldn't take it anymore. She said that she felt guilty riding on this contraption--if it was causing my cousin so much difficulty. After having to stop several times--my aunt finally had had enough. I'm getting off! I don't want to feel guilty riding this, if one of you sounds like every step is a huge labor!

We started to argue, I was telling my cousin to stop being a drama queen, she said that --she couldn't take one more step. So (reluctantly) I went back and returned the quad bike, while promising myself, that next time I would come back with someone that was in better shape, because--darn it! I was having a good time riding that bike.

An Anonymous Deed of Heroism

When people think of a hero, they think of a person that risks his or her life to save another person or persons in a big dramatic way. Rarely do they see the ordinary heroes among us, those people whose acts may not be so dramatic, such as getting someone out of a burning building, or stopping a criminal or psychopath from harming some innocent person, but whose unselfish acts help a fellow human being.

I'm talking about the hero who helps his elderly neighbors by shoveling the snow for them. The person who makes sure that young child gets home safe, the person who ---without thinking about themselves-- volunteers in their community to help collect money, food and clothing for the poor, who mentors others so they can learn to stand on their own two feet. The list goes on--you get the idea...

I witnessed such an act of heroism the other day when I was walking in the neighborhood. There we were, waiting for the light to change, nothing out of the ordinary, when this young lady--with headphones on, absolved in her music, not even looking where she was going --or noticing that the traffic light was red --started to cross the street. All of a sudden, the man that was standing next to me, grabs her by the arm--and yanks her back to the sidewalk--just as a car zooms by. Those of us who witnessed this, were amazed...we did not see this car coming--and had it not been for this man, a tragedy might have happened.

We congratulated him on his quick action, and you would have thought that the young lady would have been the first to thank her saviour. But no...she just practically bit his head off, insulting him, and telling him that he had no business touching her. The man just stood there --he couldn't believe that this ungrateful little idiot, was berating him. He just shrugged his shoulder and walked away. Sometimes a real hero does his good deed, not waiting to be recognized for it, but just for the sake of doing good.

Reality and the Lottery Winnings

There I was, sitting in the lobby of this bank, preparing people's income taxes, a service the bank provided during tax season, to draw in more customers. It seemed an easy enough job, I figured, just sit here --as different people came to have their income taxes done. To be honest I was thinking--that his sure was  piece-of-cake work, but the day was just starting--and boy...what a day!

This man comes in and sits in front of my desk, hands over his tax paperwork, and as I start gathering information from him, I noticed that he had won 10 thousand dollars in the lottery. When I pointed this out-- he smiled and said that yes---he could now pay off some debts, etc.

I was in a bind-- because I had to inform this man that he had to pay taxes on that, --eh? what!? was his reaction initially, then he though it over and next thing I know, this man jumps up from his seat hysterical---what do you mean!!!Taxes? I have to pay tax on my own money?!

Now let me pause here to note that this man was a big, stocky man, he looked like a football player, and he looked quite menacing. His face was a vivid red, his eyes were burning, and if it could have been possible--smoke would be coming out his ears, and he was raging at me!

Now the bank was full with the lunch crowds, people coming and going, then as they see this drama play out they all look at what's going on. Meanwhile, in the calmest voice I could manage (while dealing with my thumping heart and having my legs turn to jelly) I try to soothe him by explaining that --well this is the law and...he just screams at me--the hell with the law! you people -- all of you are a bunch of thieves out to take my money! but sir--I tried to explain...it's not us --it's the government........he wasn't listening to me.

Thank goodness, that as I'm talking to this lunatic, the police is creeping up behind him, while signalling me to keep talking to him, to keep him distracted--as they begin closing in on him. Those minutes were the longest of my life. Finally---they tackled him down and quickly handcuffed him. Then they came to me to congratulate me on keeping my nerves steady and not panicking. I did not have the heart to tell them, that the reason I stayed sitting down and seemingly calm--was that I was petrified! I could not move if had wanted to!

The Park Affair

My uncle must be the most tightfisted person I know when it comes to money. He  would rather not eat, or participate in an activity, if it meant that he would go even one cent above his self-imposed budget. This point was proven to us one time, when we decided to have a family picnic in the Botanic Garden.

Now this uncle decided to remain a bachelor because, in his opinion, marriage was too expensive--what with a wife, children, a home---no, that was not the life for him. We felt that it would do him good to socialize a bit, so we invited him to a family get-together. It was a really enjoyable Spring day, so we decided it was a perfect day to go to the park and enjoy the flowers.

Since everybody lives in different parts of the city, we agreed to meet at the front entrance of the Botanic Garden, at a set time, then from there go into the garden and just have a fun day. So there we were, waiting for everyone to arrive, so that we could all go in together. My uncle was the last one to arrive., but finally we were all there.

Somehow, we neglected to tell my uncle that there was an 8 dollars entrance fee (this is for maintenance of the park), we didn't think this was a big deal---BIG mistake. Everyone else paid the fee, was given a button to put on the shirt, and went in. Then it was my uncle's turn....wait a minute--he says--do you mean that I have to pay just to get into this park! why--yes, the cashier tells him, it's for the park upkeep. This made my uncle hysterical--this is the land of the free!!--- he screams at the poor woman, then turning to us --very agitated--says that we lied to and betrayed him! why did we not tell him that he was invited to a place that would swindle him out of his money. He would NOT pay a dime -- and said he would go back home.

We couldn't believe that he was making such a scene over a measly 8 dollars, but he was raging, his face all red....not caring one bit that by this time-- people were staring at him. This proved too much for my cousin's boyfriend, he took out his wallet and said--here! I'll pay the damn ticket! Just stop acting like a cheap madman. This did not sit well with my uncle--who told him, that no--he would not go into that park out of principle now---why should he pay just to see flowers and trees--no sir! and with that he turned around-- went back into the subway and went home.

A Garden for the Blind

If you are looking for an oasis of calm to refresh your frazzled urban mind, then head over to the Brooklyn Botanic Garden. This garden is one of the undiscovered jewels of Brooklyn, designed to transport you away from the noise and stress of the city.

It was founded back in 1910, as a way of keeping green space in the fast growing city-- to serve as an escape. The layout of the garden is such that  when you walk into it, the city virtually disappears, because of the clever way it is designed. It has a Japanese garden, a Rock garden, a Native Flora, and Rose garden, and so many other offerings. But to me the best one is the Garden for the Blind.

This is a garden made up of plants and flowers that can best be "viewed" with your eyes closed, as the plants here demand that you use your other senses to experience them. For example you have plants and flowers that are very aromatic, plants that that have a variety of textures --so that this one feels like silk, or fur, or like sand, others have strange shapes, that you feel when you trace them with your hands.

 It was really joyful to see the blind children and adults, and even the sighted people that were there the day I visited, enjoying the full use of their senses to "see" this garden. But even better, is to  visit and experience it yourself--and realize that sometimes we tend to ignore our other senses when we only focus on the visual.

Night Train to Brussels

Thanks to a friend that was too cheap to pay for first class, we had the nightmare train ride to Brussels, Belgium. Everything was going fine on our grand European vacation, till we reached Switzerland, where our money just seemed to vanish. Things were so expensive! So me and my friend began cutting back on our spending. As we were making plans to go to Brussels, we came to the conclusion,, that if we traveled on the overnight train, that was one less night we would have to pay a hotel.

Now...I wanted to travel first class, because this way we would have a private compartment, with two fold down beds, my friend said ---that , oh no--she did not want to pay the 20 extra dollars per person for this, that the second class compartment was way cheaper. I pointed out that this was a compartment for six people, with bunk beds, three on each side, and there was no guarantee what kind of persons these people would be. But after much arguing, I gave in (which I later regretted) and we booked the second class compartment.

I knew this was a mistake, a point which was proved to me, when the other four people showed up. They were the shadiest, untrustworthy-looking men that we have ever seen. They immediately understood that we were foreigners, and just gave us this creepy, smirk smile, and kept staring at us. We were not comfortable. They kept eying us and our carry-on luggage.  We so distrusted them that we took turns going out of the compartment, not daring to leave our stuff alone with those men.

Now this was an overnight train which meant, that at some point we had to go to sleep. But that was not an easy thing to do when you had these men looking at you like a lion waiting for the prey to stumble. Needles to say we did not sleep a wink, as we did everything we could think of to keep ourselves awake.

By the time the train arrived in Brussels the next morning, we were a wreck, with huge, dark circles under our eyes. The train conductor asked us if everything was alright---sure we lied--everything is just peachy. After checking in to out hotel, we went to our room, sat on the bed and passed out for the rest of the day, not waking up until nearly nighttime.

Twisted Compassion

People can sometimes be confusing. I say this because the memory of an experience is still imprinted in my mind. This happened on an extremely snowy, freezing winter day. A group of us decided (don't ask me why) that this day would be perfect to go gambling in Atlantic City--- way over in New Jersey. Now the way many casinos in Atlantic City get people to go there, is by offering what we call "packages". This consists of a local bodega, retail newspaper kiosk, or some other small business, selling you, for about 25 to 50 dollars, a trip to the particular casino--which includes: round-trip bus ride, and a voucher to play for "free" at the casino jackpots, roulette or whatever.

So we decided to walk to the neighborhood newspaper kiosk to buy the tickets to go. Now by this time-- the snow was really piling up, and the wind was so cold it sliced through your clothes. As we approached the kiosk, we noticed this poor homeless man, sitting in this little nook by a doorway, bundled up in his rags, shivering and under his thin blanket he had his dog. When --  just as we reach the kiosk, this well-dressed woman, dressed in a heavy coat, boots, hat, gloves, etc., comes upon the homeless man--and begins insulting this poor guy in a really loud voice---Shame, shame on you! How can you do this to that poor dog! You are a terrible, horrid man! I will call the animal protection league on you, you are abusing that poor dog!

Now, we just stood there--speechless....here was a fellow human being...whose dog was probably the only thing he had to comfort him in his misery---being told by this heartless witch, that his only consolation should be taken away from him. The thought occurred to me--what about the man, lady don't you give a damn about the man? He is suffering too, he is cold and freezing also--not just the dog...where is your heart?! We couldn't stand it, and told the woman to back off...to show some humanity--and gave the man the hot coffee and sandwiches we had bought for ourselves--and some money.

This left me wondering about the priorities some people have--between helping out one of their own, they would rather  help another species--and not see anything wrong about it.

Tidbits for the Tourists

Sometimes it's sad to see or hear yet another headline stating the unfortunate experience of this or that tourist in the city. For example that this one young woman got robbed or worse, or this man got attacked or swindled ---and so it goes. We hear this, and just shake our heads--what the heck is wrong with these people? It seems that once they get here to New York --common sense flies out the window, and they do stuff here that they wouldn't dream of doing at home.

We blame this on all the movies, commercials, TV series and so on, that portray the city in such cheerful, wonderful, marvelous way, that reality gets pushed aside. In any big city you have your good and your bad, but it seems that New York is portrayed in extremes--either supremely evil or just so great that it's a wonderland. Well--guess what--it falls somewhere in between--just like many other places on the planet.

A few words of advice for when you visit. Do not, for example, attempt to jog or walk by yourself in Central Park at the wee hours in the night--bad idea! Flashing your jewelry or cash on the subway...also a no-no. Same goes for standing there in the middle of the sidewalk with this huge map in your hands... there are predators watching, be careful. Certain neighborhoods, may sound charming, chic, and quaint  --on paper--but, unless accompanied by a native--don't go there. And please, do yourself a favor, go to a recognized authority if you get lost, don't think that some strange-looking guy or gal, hanging around the bus terminal offering to "help" you , is actually going to do that.

In short, don't abandon here the same precautions you use back home-- because guess what--- we humans are funny people, we behave the same all over the world.

A Free Journey to History in a Corner of Brooklyn

There is a great place in Brooklyn that is a must see if you want to learn some of the history, not only of Brooklyn, but also New York and indeed the United States. This place is the Brooklyn Navy Yard Center, more specifically a fantastic and still a work-in-progress museum called with the prosaic and unimaginative name: Building 92. I know...it sounds like something out of a science-fiction, or  secret government project about aliens, but until they come up with a better name...we'll call it that.

This is a small gem of a museum. as we recently discovered when we went there not so long ago. Now this is a place, the Brooklyn Navy Yard, that has played an enormous role in American  history, and has been around for about 200 years. Because of politics, the whole placed was closed down and neglected for many years, but thanks to a group of people dedicated to preserving this important place in the story of this country, and after much doing-- this museum opened.

At the  entrance  this gigantic anchor greets you--behind it is a small reception desk where you get the brochure describing the exhibitions, and even though admission is free a small donation is suggested. The exhibitions are splendid. You learn that this building used to be called the Marine Commandant's Residence. As you look at it, there are three floors, with the events about the Brooklyn Navy yard arranged in chronological order beginning from 200 years before to the present. The exhibits are interactive. For example the day we were there, a class of schoolchildren were conducting a historical scavenger hunt. The exhibits have video clips that you can touch to star a narration, there are great artifacts, and as you go up from the first to the third floor, you get an overview of the Navy Yard history. You can go up by either stair or elevator, as the building has been renovated to be handicapped accessible.

For us it was great learning about the early days of Brooklyn, interacting with a giant rotating map that you could touch to see the details of any particular place, and seeing all the many start-up business getting a helping hand in this renovated area.

Another great thing is, that this is a very green building, everything has been done to use and conserve energy wisely. To us though-- the best part was the surprise we got when we got to the air-conditioned cafeteria on the 4th floor. It sits on the roof of the old building, with glass walls on three sides, and a veranda going around it, with plants to brighten it up. It was a treat to eat lunch in a place with such nice views of the river and the neighborhood, honestly we forgot that we were in a museum.

By the time we left, we felt that we had traveled back in time and come back the wiser for it. This is a must see place if you ever come to New York, heck even if you live in New York---go visit!

Highway Duel: Driver vs. Road

Do you have a relative that's a bit off-the-wall? An aunt, cousin, brother or who-ever that you keep away from because...well they are unpredictable? This role is played by one of my uncles. He is a good person, who will give you the shirt off his back---but I won't let him drive me anywhere---I'd rather pay a car service than ride with him. Why...? Because my uncle refuses to admit that he needs glasses and makes up his own driving rules.

This was illustrated to me and two of my cousins in the one and only time that I rode in his car. We were attending a party and had to go by train to another town. Now...since that party house was really far from the station, somebody had to pick us up from the station--and my uncle volunteered. I had never been in a car with him, so I just thought that OK this was going to be an uneventful 15-minute ride from the station to the house. But---no...it turned into what seemed like the longest ride of my life.

There we were-- waiting for him in front of the station, which is at ground level, we see his car and start waving--he drives by--we start waving like crazy and calling him out--finally, after passing us by, he comes back and recognizes us. We get in the car with me in the front and my two cousins in the back. So I ask him, if he knows how to get back to house--of course I do! he answers somewhat annoyed--so I said nothing more.

We were on this very wide, eight-lanes highway, with four lanes in one direction, and four lanes in the other. I notice that my uncle is squinting his eyes--and I ask him if he needs glasses---of course not! he says. So I ask him--as I see him making moves to change lanes--what are you doing..? He tell me--oh I'm headed for the exit ramp. I look and see a retaining wall getting closer and closer to us---Excuse me...I tell him but you are NOT headed towards an exit---you are going to crash the car against that wall! Oh he says, squinting again, --it must be the one after the next overpass. So I tell him that I will be the co-pilot and tell him when our exit comes up.

The exit was coming up in one mile so I told him to start changing lanes--but no---he got distracted and missed the exit. No biggie says he--I will fix that--and then proceeds to make a U-turn in the middle of the highway with cars zooming by us at over 70 miles an hour! All three of us (me and my cousins) just gave a long heartfelt scream! Telling him that he was crazy--and to please stop driving like a maniac! He just says that we are a bunch of sissies! To stop screaming--we are distracting him---what..? we say, are you insane....? Well, he gets to the exit, on this very busy road and just as we get on the exit ramp--his car gives out and the engine dies. So there we are stuck on the exit ramp--with drivers behind us, cursing us out and telling us to move it--and my "dear" uncle is there calm as anything saying, oh don't worry--this happens all the time, once the engines cools off a bit it will get going again. Me and my cousins--at this point--are seriously thinking of maybe getting out of the car and just walk to the house.

And just as we were getting ready get out of the car-- it comes back to life. There! says my uncle triumphantly..see..good as ever! and cheerfully gets back in the car and drives off the exit ramp. By this time we are hiding our faces and sliding low in the car so that nobody sees us with this crazy person.

We finally get to the house for the party--about 3 hours late. A 15-minute trip had turned into a nightmare ride. The worst part was that my uncle then comes to us, as if nothing had happened, and offers to drive us back to the station once the party is over.  Suffice it to say---that we declined his offer.

The No-Frills Airline Experience

Sometimes it doesn't pay to fly on the cheap, something I learned the rough way.  Me and my relatives (all seven of us) were at the tail end of a fun vacation in Florida. We had visited Disney World, Epcot Center, SeaWorld, and several other attractions in the area. But we were tired ...and happily heading to the airport to fly back home. As it would been very expensive for us to fly the major airlines, we booked with this small carrier, no-frills airline, flying into a smaller airport and everything seemed fine.

So we check-in and after not much waiting-- board the plane.  Then we heard a loud boom! and crackling --- the skies opened up and a drenching rain started. We got worried--but the pilot said that everything was fine--we would be taking off soon.  So, there we were -- the airplane is speeding down the runway---when suddenly the lights start to flicker, everyone is getting nervous. Then it happened--- another loud thunderous boom! and next thing we know the plane gets hit by lightning-- just as it begins to lift  on take-off. All of us passengers let out a huge scream, and my life started flashing before me--this is not the way I wanted to go!

The pilot said, in as calm a voice as he could, that we were headed back to the airport. At the gate  they only told us that the lightning hit had disabled the plane and that we had to disembark--nothing else. Then the  crew dumps all the passengers luggage  on the floor of the waiting lounge, and  do a disappearing act. My aunt and uncle, who are seniors, get hysterical, with my aunt saying that she knew from the beginning that this cheap airline was a bad idea,and who was the genius that booked it. Tempers got pretty short and we all started  arguing.  Finding our luggage in that mess was a challenge, but we found them. Then it fell to me and my cousin to figure out how to get back to New York. The others were so tired that they decided to sleep  on  the cold hard plastic chairs.

After several phone calls we found out that there would be a bus leaving in the morning, that would get us to Orlando, where we could get a direct flight back home, but we had to move fast--because other people had the same idea of booking this bus. My cousin and me did not sleep the whole night--but we did it--even though we had barely any cash left, using our credit cards, we charged the bus and the seven return tickets back to New York on a major airline.  Very early the next morning --we got on the bus and made it to Orlando airport and caught the flight to New York. Meanwhile the personnel of the airline that dumped us did not even bother to show up the next day, or even attempt to help us.

After that "wonderful" experience, I promised myself that no matter if it cost me a bit extra--the no-frills thing is  not for me, I'll gladly pay for the peace of mind when I travel.

Politics and the Ten Dollars Taxi Ride

If you have been unemployed for over a year, and the  situation gets really desperate--an offer to work for 12 dollars an hour--- sounds like prayers answered. Such was the situation for one of my friends, a single mother with two children. She called very excited ...telling me that a lady she knew,  told her that this politician was looking for people to gather signatures for a petition-- but that she had to go to this guy's office now! So my friend takes the last ten dollars she has and pays a taxi to get her to the hiring place.

Later that afternoon my friend calls me totally disgusted, telling me that ...all politicians are crooks! liars! I told her to calm down and tell me what happened. Well---she says--here I go thinking great! this is the answer to my problems, now I'll be making decent money. But when she gets to the place, the lady doing the hiring tells her--that she must be mistaken about the 12 dollars an hour pay---the pay is actually 50 cents per signature...my friend says that she told the woman---what?! no, no.... your people went around the neighborhood telling everyone that it was 12 dollars an hour---listen lady, I spent my last ten dollars (that I was going to buy groceries with) to pay a taxi to bring me here. And now you're telling me that it's only 50 CENTS a signature! Well guess what---you better damn well reimburse me my ten dollars----you crook!

So--I ask--did they give you back your money? Hell no! she says...instead of giving me my money this lady starts telling me about the importance of voting, democracy and blah blah, and that she-- then told the lady--that right now she was more concerned with getting paid enough money to survive and not empty words. And again demanded that the lady give her back the money she spent on the taxi.

Needles to say, my friend --totally really angry by now--told me that of course not! she did not get a dime back from this politician's people. The worst part, she says is that guy has the nerve to portray himself as a man of the people, helping the community--when all he is doing is exploiting them.

So....I ask...what are you going to do now? She gives a deep sigh--then tells me with a resigned voice--take the job and just try to gather as many signatures as I can, to see if at least I can make 100 dollars in one day--crooked politician or not--I got two children and they got to eat. She took the job-- then took a bus to go back home.

Lost Neighborhoods in Brooklyn

I absolutely love Brooklyn, it has its own unique character... that to me sets it apart from the rest of New York City.  It is not a big soul-less monolith full of faceless, nameless people hurrying here and there just thinking about making lots of money. No, Brooklyn is a collection of smaller neighborhoods that --as you visit them, make you feel you're visiting all these small countries with their own cultures and languages. However--as the scourge of the hipsters, yuppies and other so-called "in" people pour in from Manhattan---one by one these neighborhoods are vanishing.

These were the thoughts going through my head as I visited one of my favorite neighborhoods: the southside of Williamsburg. As I looked at the luxury condominiums---that by the way, sit there more than half-empty. The memories come flashing back to me. This was a neighborhood with so many rival gangs that you practically needed a passport to go from one block to the other--heck--to go from one side of the street to the other! But, believe or not, for those who lived there it was one big family. They took care of you. The only problem came if you had friends or relatives that wanted to visit you---then---you had to go to the subway station to pick them up and escort them to your place, many family members would not visit you at all.

And the buildings, mostly small brownstones, made you live the rugged life: it was hellishly hot in the summer, and in the winter --because of lack of heat--the windows would freeze over so bad you couldn't even see outside, and of course you had to share your apartment with the roaches and mice. But people found a way to cope. The summers were the most fun. There was a huge vinegar factory nearby and when the wind changed the smell of vinegar was everywhere. When things got hot-- the fire hydrants were opened. At night things would get really intense between the gangs--and when you called the police, while peeking from the lower edge of a window--- to report that this or that person was being chased by someone with a knife or a gun ---the police would tell you to just call them back when there was a body to pick up. You might think---that this was a horrible place, but no...it was great! Because no matter from what part of the planet you came from---you were accepted,

Now---I walk down the old streets and I see a very snooty lady walking with  her dog, who looks as snooty as she does, and I smile. Yes-- the old neighborhood  is gone...but you know what... it amuses me to see the  rich people trying to convince themselves that yeah! look at me....I'm living in the southside of Williamsburg, see how tough and hip and cool I am....while the real Brooklynites just laugh at them behind their backs.

9 Suitcases and Two Train Stations

We had never been to Europe, so when the opportunity presented itself--in the form of a wedding being celebrated there--we jumped at the chance. So the three of us, my cousin, my aunt and myself made a grand adventure plan. We would start in Spain and end up in Italy-- traveling by train--so we could see the landscape and save on hotels. So we each bought the Eurail Pass and Frommer's Guide to Europe... on a budget. As we had big plans but little money.

Now, Europe, to us---was a big mystery, we really had no idea what to expect. So naturally we wanted to bring with us everything we needed, to cover whatever emergency or opportunity came up. In brief, we packed everything! All that was missing was the kitchen sink. Between the three of us we had 9 suitcases, and even then we thought---hmm... maybe it wasn't enough, but decided that we had all we could handle. And off we went!

So many things happened to us, it was incredible. We quickly discovered that when you travel by train--- having 9 suitcases was, shall we say--a tad too much. And nowhere was this made more clear than when we headed off to Venice, after having visited Spain and France. The Frommer book had become our reliable guide, we referred to it for practically everything, it -- and the rail map that we got with the Eurail Pass. However--we neglected to verify clearly (on either the Frommer book or the train map) which station in Venice we were supposed to get off on, something that came back to haunt us.

There we were having fun on the train, checking out the different quaint little towns we were passing and then we look in our rail map and see--oh boy! our station in Venice is coming up! So we get off the seats and start piling our 9 suitcases by the door, much to the amusement of the other passengers. The train rolls into Venezia Mestre and we just fling our suitcases out and get off the train. But  something didn't seem right--where was the water? this did not look like the Venice we had expected.

So I decide to check my rail map again---and ---oh no! we had gotten off in the wrong station! So in my broken Italian I tell a train worker at the station that we wanted to go to Venice proper and where was the correct train. So he points to a track at the far end of the station (there were quite a few tracks) and said-- that train there is going to Venezia Santa Lucia-- that is the train you need. We looked with dismay---that train was on a track about a half-a-block away from where we stood---and we had those 9 pieces of luggage!

The train worker--seeing our plight--and I think feeling sorry for us, told us don't worry I'll help with your luggage--So off the four of us went running to catch the correct train--unfortunately it began to move and we were shouting --stop! stop! we have to get on that train! One guy on the train opened the door (the train was moving slowly out of the station) and several people on the platform picked our luggage and started throwing it to the guy on the train, then another person on the train said to us...jump ...jump into the train and put his hands out to help us. By now the passengers on the train are all hanging out the window looking at this spectacle. We didn't care--we had to get into that train!

Finally between the people on the platform and those on the train we and our 9 suitcases made it---as the train left the station. Everyone started clapping....bravo! fantastico--that was a great show! We were so tired we didn't care how ridiculous we had looked--all we knew was that we were on the train to the right station in Venice, and had our nice hotel waiting for us there---instead of being stranded and possibly spending the night in some cold, uncomfortable place.

Shopping for The Dress

No..not a wedding dress! It wasn't going to be that simple, although the way my friend went about it, you would have thought that she was going to be the center of attention at this party we were invited to. We were invited to a party at a semi-fancy place, and my friend called -- asking if I could go shopping with her--as she needed somebody to help her pick out an appropriate dress. Now this was a party to celebrate another friend's daughter's academic accomplishments, so from my point of view I could go dressed simply in whatever stuff I had in the closet. Not so my friend, oh no...she had to go in the finest new dress because it was an elegant place and who knows--she might meet someone there. I don't know what possessed me to agree to help her shop, but I promised-- so here we were driving to the mall at 5 PM on a Friday night... after work.

We get to this huge mall and select a big department store and go to the elegant evening dresses section and she makes a beeline for the 200-dollars-and-up dresses. Now I know that my friend is on a very limited budget--so I ask her how much does she plan to spend on said dress..oh--it doesn't matter, she says I want to look at all those gorgeous dresses--aren't they great! But--I say--you don't have that kind of money--why don't we look at the discount racks over there, where the dresses are 100 dollars or less. Oh no...she says--I don't even look at the discount racks. I got annoyed --telling her that I did not want to waste my time looking at stuff she wasn't even going to buy. It didn't matter to her, she picked all these expensive dresses to try on. The first one was a silver number with so much sequins, that I told her if the lights hit-- she would look like a human disco-ball, then she tried this other dress with so many ruffles--that she looked like she was wrapped in curtains.

And so it went, she didn't find a dress that we could agree on, so we went to various other stores in the mall. It gets dark, and I noticed that it was 8 PM and still no dress, so finally I said why don't we go back to the first store--there was a dress there that was on sale for less than 100 dollars and it was an elegant, understated dress that we ---finally---both agreed, would look good on her. Then the argument over the size began. There were 2 dresses left: one was a size 6 and the other was a size 12. I look at her wide hips and large derriere and tell her that the size 12 dress looks like it would fit her best. She gives me a daggers-look and grabs the size 6 dress and says--with a hint of indignation--this is my size--I'm a size 6. Not wanting to have to come back out for the size 12, I grab both dresses to go into the Fitting Room.

Of course she took the size 6 dress to try on first--needles to say--it was so tight on her she couldn't breathe. So I say try the size 12, and wonders of wonders--it fits perfectly! Hmph..she says sounding annoyed, this label makes the sizes run smaller than normal, because I am a size 6. I told her that whatever---we both agree that it's a nice dress for a good price and let's go to the cashier and pay for it, as it has been nearly 3 and a half hour, the party was tomorrow and she did not have time to go shopping to look for a better dress or price.

So reluctantly (on her part) we went to the cashier. The cashier rings the dress up and announces the price, which because of taxes, was 3 dollars higher than the tag. When the cashier says the price, my friend says in a really loud and outraged voice--what! this is highway robbery! (this from the person who was looking at 200-dollars-and-up dresses), the cashier gives me a look--and asks if my friend still wanted the dress, totally annoyed by then-- I told her that YES my friend was paying for the dress, my friend just stared and I said to her -- give the cashier your credit card--we are NOT leaving here without you buying the freaking dress!

When we go out she says, could you buy dinner for me I don't have enough cash...I look at her in disbelief--here she spent all this money on a dress but did not have enough to buy dinner! Since I did not want to just buy dinner for myself, I was stuck with paying for her dinner also.

Then the next morning, she calls me to tell me that she went back to the store, talked to the manager and somehow managed to get the dress reduced by 10 dollars, because she found a circular that the dress was on sale cheaper at another branch of the store, and could they give it to her at the lower price. She tells me with a tone of triumph--see I got it cheaper---and no tax! By then I couldn't care less, promising myself to never--under any circumstance go shopping with her.

The Smoker and the Lost Groceries

Have you ever done sometime quite bold or brave in your life, then afterwards had very mixed feelings about it? Well,,,that happened to me once while shopping at the supermarket. Everything went fine--until I got to the check-out line. There I was...reading the latest tabloid about this or that celebrity affairs, etc, waiting for my turn to pay...When right behind me, this man--who looked somewhat intimidating--he was very muscular, dressed in black leather, multiple tattoos--started smoking. Now normally, if it isn't in my immediate vicinity---I don't care if a person smokes, however this guy was creating a large cloud of smoke around himself and unfortunately I was caught inside that cloud...I could not breathe.

So I struggled with myself---should I speak up or suffer? And decided to speak up. In the politest voice that I could muster I asked the offender to have some consideration for those of us who couldn't tolerate cigarette smoke and kindly get rid of his--the man gave me the same look you would give an annoying little insect and in a mock-polite tone asked me if his smoking was bothering me--and I answered --that well...yes it was! He was so stunned by my sheer audacity and nerve to even answer him back --that he just gave me this I-don't-want-to-squash-you look and just left the line.

The cashier who was silent and not daring to even say a word--quickly rang my groceries up and bagged it, and giving me a nervous look---told me to get the heck out of there before the man thought it over and confront me. I grabbed my bags and walked out. Halfway down the block..I realized --oh no, I forgot one of my bags of groceries--but then thought ..hmm--if I go back and that man is there--who knows what he might do to me. So even though I had paid for my groceries and would lose them---I decided not to push my luck--and kept walking home..feeling proud of myself for speaking up and yet regretting my lack of courage to go back and reclaim my groceries.

A Native's Un-Tourist Wanderings in New York

Living in New York -- everyone who comes from another place to visit you-- wants to see the usual sights--the Statue of Liberty, the Empire State Building, lower Manhattan-- where the World Trade Center is being re-built, and so on. To be honest--I'm really tired of taking my guests there--no offense, but after a while it gets old.  Yeah, yeah, I know...this are the world-renown icons, etc. But when you've been going there for the millionth time, you want to show people that New York has so much more, and that Manhattan (where most tourists gravitate to) is not the end-all, be-all.

So in the interest of presenting another side of New York--once in a while I'll describe a place that is different-- to visit... and not necessarily in Manhattan. One  such place is Old Bethpage Village Restoration located in Long Island (east of Manhattan). This is a sort of living museum, where a mid-19th-Century American Village is recreated by people dressed in the clothes of the era. The great thing about this place is that there are historic houses and stores that where brought here from other places in Long Island, which makes you feel as if you stepped through some magic tunnel---back to post-colonial times and see how people lived back then. You honestly forget all about the noise, and crowds of Manhattan and really get into the history of the place. We recently took some relatives from abroad there-- and they couldn't believe that this was  close to Manhattan, yet  seemed to be centuries away, they loved it!

If you want to break from the usual, search in your browser for:  Old Bethpage Village Restoration, Nassau County, Long Island, New York and check out the information on how to get there from Manhattan or whatever other place you're staying in in New York...and enjoy your journey to the past !

Damnation and Salvation on the Subway

Riding the subway you never know what to expect. So we in New York have perfected the look-but-don't-show-it pose when riding the train. This can come in handy when assorted wackos and lunatics get in the subway car you're in. As soon as they come in, you get very busy with your book, newspaper, electronic device or whatever, just so you can pretend that whatever crazy thing they are doing--you want no part in it.

Sometimes this works, other times---it doesn't. This was the situation my cousin and I were in. There we were, minding our own business, gossiping about this or that topic, when from the other end of the car-- this huge man comes in shouting curses and insults in a very loud voice. Now this particular car was packed with people, who immediately looked at him and went into their... I'm looking-but-not-really mode...praying...oh please...don't let him come to me. But that didn't work, he went one by one and stood in front of each person and screamed at them that they were going to burn in the fires of Hell! they were corrupt! sinners! and so he made his way down the car.

Me and my cousin stopped talking and kept looking down at the floor, and at this guy out of the corners of our eyes--hoping that soon we would get to the next station (we were in the tunnel between stations) and praying...please let him skip us---please... Next thing we know he's in front of us. Needless to say, our hearts sank, oh no...here it comes. But to our utter shock--he knelt in front of us and said in the softest voice: ...and you two are angels of the Lord....sent to help us. We just stared at him--not daring to say anything. Then just as suddenly he stands up and turns around to face the woman who was sitting across from us and screams at her ...but you! you are going straight to hell! you are evil, evil! you are eternally damned!... as the train rolled into the station.

My cousin and I didn't hesitate--we practically jumped out of that train and into the station, even though it wasn't our stop--we didn't want to take any chance that this guy would change his mind and throw us into the eternal fires that were burning his tortured mind.

Sweet Memories of Tar Beach

The  blazing hot summer here in New York made me remember summers spent in Tar Beach in Brooklyn. What is tar beach you may ask, well for some people who grew up in the ghetto, it was an escape from the summer heat--by going to the roof of the  building you lived in. The building we lived in, was a 3-story brownstone, whose roof had a paper black-tar coating. When we asked-- they told us that it was to waterproof it, whatever, it was the best place to be on a steamy, muggy, hot summer day. We would go up the fire escape ladder, and one by one bring a beach umbrella, towels, lemonade, water, sandwiches, a portable radio and of course suntan lotion and just hang out there.

It was great and it was free! No paying to be in a super hot subway, no crowds to fight with, no traffic jam on the highway, just go up the ladder and you were there! And what a view... you could see the other buildings, the people down in the streets, the pigeons (our seagulls) trying to eat,  and feel the cool breeze as you were drinking your lemonade, listening to the music on the radio and considering yourself the luckiest, richest kid to have this luxury.

A High-Def 4th of July Fireworks

We turned off all the lights in our place at 9:00 PM, leaving only the fancy high-definition TV on, so that we could enjoy the great Macy's fireworks spectacular. Mind you, it's not that we wouldn't love to go see it in person, but today was one of those typical New York day of the 3 H's:  Hot, Humid & Hazy. And the thought of having to go to one of the "prime" viewing spots really early in the day--in this 90-degrees weather was not the least bit appealing--especially when you consider that there would be literally thousands of people, sweaty, smelly people all pushing and shoving you---no...We decided it would be nicer to be in our cool air-conditioned place and not have to worry about fighting the hordes on the subway to go home.

We did that about a few years ago and the memory of it still burns. We had staked out a spot right by the water's edge, with a great view of the river and where the fireworks were going to be, this was at 7 o'clock in the morning! the fireworks were going to be about 9 something that night, crazy-- right? We had to take turns guarding the spot, because the more people came as the day wore on, the pushier they got. Finally... by the time the fireworks came the place was packed. We were being pushed and shoved from all sides. But then the fireworks started --what a fantastic sight!

Then it was over and the trek to get home loomed ahead. And --what a struggle. You suddenly had hundreds of people trying to get into the nearest subway station. Me and my friend (not actually thinking clearly) decided that we should run so that we could beat the huge crowd to the nearest subway entrance. So we start running, and for some reason--this set off a chain reaction. My friend tells me to look back-- and we see this huge mob of people also running and we got scared! Oh no....! We had no choice now but to keep running until we were nearly at the midtown station, all the way from lower Manhattan. We made it home way past 1 o'clock in the morning, totally exhausted and swearing to never ...ever!... do this again! Next time our trek would be to the TV in the living room, thank you very much!

The Many-Sided Gossip of the Minivan Ride

This started out as a simple gesture of kindness. We were at this party and since it ended late, some people (who did not have a car) needed to get home and no one wanted to take public transportation. So one of my friends who has a minivan said that he had room for 2 more people. Now, I know this friend and his wife and two twenty-something kids are a very volatile group, who can start an argument at the drop of a hat, so I said no thanks, I'll call a taxi. However his mother and sister felt that since they are related, they were safe...OK... I said my good-byes and left.

Next morning, the calls started coming in. First the sister: "Oh my Lord!" she says "I'll NEVER take a ride with that group again!" So I asked what happened. So the sister says that the wife was being a backseat driver and next thing you know the driver (my friend) and the wife started screaming at each other and he wasn't paying attention to the road and was swerving all over the place. The sister tells the driver you're going to have an accident, please pull over and cool down. This doesn't sit well with the daughter, who the sister calls a spoiled brat. According to the sister-- the daughter started throwing a full hysterical, screaming tantrum, and my friend, the driver, had to stay parked on the side of the road for an hour until his daughter regained her composure. The sister complained that she didn't get home until 2 o'clock in the morning.

Then the mother called me, and I had to hear her side of the story: I don't EVER want to take a ride with the sister again! I know she's my daughter, but she's a controlling little snob who thinks her word is gospel and she is the only one who's always right. So I asked what happened-- the mother tells me that everything was going fine until the sister started telling the daughter that she was a loser for not getting a high-paying job after graduating from college. And that the sister started pointing out the flaws of everyone in the minivan, naturally this set-off this short-tempered group and everyone was yelling at each other at the top of their lungs. The mother said that even she got into it, telling the sister to shut the ----up. Thank goodness, said the mother, that the driver kept his cool and parked the minivan on the side of the road until everyone calmed down.

Right after hanging up the phone I get the call from the daughter. Oh boy (I tell myself) here's more about this event. Sure enough, the daughter tells me that she never--ever! wants to speak to her aunt again for as long as she lives! Again-- I ask what happened. The daughter tells me that her aunt was being a control freak who kept telling her what to do with her life and putting her down, and that she got very upset and started crying telling the aunt to shut-up. Naturally (said the daughter) her father kept trying to keep calm, but because of the aunt, the driver's wife got involved-- telling the aunt to back-off. This got the driver involved, telling his wife not to insult his sister, then everyone started yelling at each other. Finally the driver said he had enough and parked the minivan on the side of the road--telling all of them that he would stay there until everyone had cooled down. That took about an hour. So I asked the daughter where was her brother during all this commotion, she said he just kept very quiet and told all of them to make believe he wasn't there, he did not want to be dragged into any of this!

As I did not want to take sides with anyone over what really happened and who was at fault, when I called my friend and asked him how was the minivan ride after the party, and he said that-- oh it was fine, I made no mention whatsoever about the drama that had been described to me by the others, being thankful that I made the right call by taking the taxi.

New Pot, Old Pot and a Fight

When you live with a teenager, no matter what you do, you can't win. We recently received as a gift these very fancy brand-name set of professional quality pots & pans made of heavy iron. Well, I have been trying to teach our teenager how to cook, so naturally our old pots and pans were  not worthy enough for the task. So our teenage royal majesty, immediately declared our old pots and pans obsolete and said that we should only use these new pots to cook. Not wanting to get into yet another argument I said fine...

Now, these pots since they are made of heavy iron, will develop spots on the inside unless you are a maniac about cleaning them, which I'm not.

 A week goes by, suddenly said teenager is asking me where are the old pots, kind of exasperated, I ask why are they looking for the old pots--oh, because these new pots are disgusting! look at all those ugly spots! I'm totally annoyed and state that--well--YOU were the one that banished them from the kitchen, so don't ask me! Next thing you know---yep---a huge argument begins. Totally annoyed I just handed them every pot and told them that, from now on, the pots and pans are their responsibility to wash and clean, I get a look of utter shock...who me...?!

Well-- we are back to using the old pots and pans and the fancy pots and pans are gathering dust.

Taking The Staten Island Ferry at Midnight

If you love to observe people in all their variety... the ferry at midnight is a great place to be. After a great party we took a taxi thru the hilly, zigzag streets of Staten Island to the ferry, which we love because it's free and gives you a fantastic view of Manhattan. The waiting area is great, it has this huge aquarium right in the middle of it, which  teaches you about different types of fish, while you wait for the ferry to arrive. It also provides a distraction from some of the strange people--drunks, vagrants, and who-knows-what-else that seem to come out at this time of night at the terminal.  But, if you like people-watching... it was great fun to see the various weird outfits, hats, makeup, etc, and try to guess where this or that person was going or coming from.

Mercifully we only had to wait for 10 minutes, the ferry came and everyone went to the opposite end from the entrance, so that we all could get the Manhattan skyline view as we traveled along. The night was very steamy and muggy with a haze hanging on everything, and that made the view even better.

Shaky view from ferry-- of Manhattan at midnight

 After about 25 minutes we got to the Manhattan terminal. The ship was packed, even  though it was midnight, it felt like a weekday rush hour. The terminal has been renovated, which is great, it means that now the subway is easily found just steps from where you disembark. So we headed for the number 1 train, when... surprise! no number 1 train was running. Oh great, the station was extremely hot, we must have lost at least a pound just sweating, anyway, after about an hour the N train finally came and we made it to Times Square. By the looks of it, at 1:30 AM all the strange creatures that live in New York must have decided to hang out there, because the platforms were crowded! Well at least we had plenty of company and believe it or not we felt safe. We made it home at 3 AM, feeling happy to live in a place like New York, where no matter at what time of day or night you venture out--it's always an adventure.