I wear 2 hats.

One is my tourist hat. With my tourist hat on, I love New York. I love the Broadway shows, the lights, the colorful neighborhoods, the cafes, the bars, the little dogs, the parks. My dad came to visit this weekend and we were ubertourists. In one short weekend we managed to pack in all of the stuff I probably should have been doing all summer. We saw 2 Broadway shows, enjoyed breakfast on the rooftop, took the Staten Island ferry, walked around Ground Zero and Wall St., grabbed 2 for 1 burgers at Epstein Bar, and gave the Wicked Lottery one last shot. We rode the subway, walked around, took taxis. We did New York right.

My other hat is my New York is not for me hat. I try not to wear this hat as often as I do, but I can't help it. Today was one of those days. I'm in a city that doesn't get me. A city that crowds me in and doesn't let me breathe. Doesn't want my contributions. A city that just keeps pushing me away. A city that I'm ready to leave.

I wear 2 hats.

My Meet-Cute

According to wikipedia [my trusted source of all information] a meet-cute is the contrived encounter of two potential romantic partners in unusual or comic circumstances. During a "meet-cute", scriptwriters often create a humorous sense of awkwardness between the two potential partners by depicting among other scenarios, an embarrassing situation.

This evening I had my very first [cheesy, hilarious, straight from a romantic comedy] meet-cute.

Tonight was laundry night. I hate laundry night. In fact, I try and put off laundry night as long as possible. Tonight I had no choice. I finally gave in and made my way to the hot sweaty depths of the laundry mat. Up until I began folding my clothes, it was quite an uneventful evening. And that is where this scene begins.

Enter: Meet-cute cutie, carrying a vintage Nike duffel filled with dirty clothes. As he looks around curiously, apparently unaware of this laundry mat, he decides to dump all of his clothes in one of the big washers. After closing the door of the machine, he looks over at the smaller washers and then at me...

Meet-cute cutie (to me): "Hey do you know how much the big washers cost? I'm trying to figure out if its more bang for my buck."

Me: "No, I've actually never used the big ones."

[Meet-cute cutie makes his was to the front to ask the lady who works there. He comes back my way holding up five fingers.]

Me: "Seriously? Not worth it."

Meet-cute cutie: "I know. I'm just not a bag proponent of separating my colors. I think that is some scam made up by laundry detergent companies" [Meanwhile he is stuffing his clothes into the smaller washers]

Me: "Yes, I thought so too... until one time I died all of my clothes pink."

Meet-cute cutie: "OK, well maybe if you are washing something new." [He closes the doors of his washers, loads in the coins and the detergent. The washers start.]

Meet-cute cutie: "AHHH! My shirt is caught. That's my favorite shirt. What do I do?"

Me: "Can you open the washer?"

Meet-cute cutie: "Um..." [He tried opening the door, but the washer doesn't stop. SOAP IS POURING OUT OF THE MACHINE. (I've only seen this type of thing only happen in the movies.) He urgently runs to the front of the store to flag down the lady, yet again. She comes back, hops on top of the machine to try to shut it off.]

Meet-cute cutie: "I swear it is my favorite shirt."

Me: [Laughing] "Soap is pouring out of your machine."

Meet-cute cutie: [Gazing up at the lady trying to shut off the machine] "Great, I'm ruining my favorite shirt, and I'm probably going to be responsible for breaking the washer."

[Finally the lady shuts off the machine. She signals to Meet-cute cutie to open the door. He tries. The door won't budge. Frustrated, the lady reaches down from where she is standing on top of the machine, and opens the door somewhat effortlessly. Embarrassed, Meet-cute cutie offers her a hand to get down.]

Meet-cute cutie: "Well, that went well."

Me: [Still laughing] "Yes, I'm thinking you should have coughed up the extra dollar for the big machine."

Meet-cute cutie: "So how long do these things take?"

Me: "30 minutes."

Meet-cute cutie: "Wow, I don't have much time left, do I?" [Meanwhile, he receives a phone call. He's talking to someone telling them about how he's gone out every night this week. He proceeds to tell a story. Mid-way through the story the call is lost. ]

Meet-cute cutie: [Turns to me] "Wasn't a good story anyway..."

Me: [Girlish giggling still occurring] "Wow. It is so hot in here."

Meet-cute cutie: "I know. I don't I can stay in here. I know I'm supposed to guard my machine, but I don't care. If they want to take my clothes, they can have them."

Me: "Even your favorite shirt?"

Meet-cute cutie: "That's worth more than the whole lot, but I'll have to take my chances."

[Meet-cute cutie exits the laundry mat. I watch him leave as I finish folding my clothes, his vintage Nike bag still resting on the end of my table.]

End scene.


Most of you probably after reading that whole scenario think you missed the fun,exciting, romantic part... but its hard to describe it. It just had the meet-cute aura of a first encounter. My words don't do it justice. Anyway, that's where the story ends. I will probably never see Meet-cute cutie ever again... but now I can finally say I had a missed connection.

"Smile. Everything will be alright."

A homeless man said this to me as I was walking home from work yesterday. I kept walking, wondering what I must look like to strangers. Apparently I do two emotions well: sad and angry.

Missed Connections

Searching craigslist's Missed Connections section is my new favorite activity. For those of you who haven't yet explored this part of craigslist, you must- it has changed my whole outlook on life.

Missed Connections is where you can post a message for someone who you felt a connection with, but for some reason or another, didn't act on. So now, I like to pass the hours of my day reading these posts, secretly searching for ones that could potentially be me...

Lately I've even been almost on the verge of trying to create a missing connection. I mean a missed connection can occur anywhere: on the street, in the subway, at Starbucks. So as I walk around the city, I find myself smiling and looking at strangers, hoping they'll give me a shout out. I'm pretty sure this is not how it works, but its fun to think about the fact that there are "secret admirers" all around the city. Now, I just have to find mine.

Is that what you're wearing?

Yes, yes it is. In my opinion, if you are going to visit camp, you have to look the part. So while my fellow camp alumni were powdered and pretty in their sundresses, I was aiming for more of a summer grunge look. Decked out in my classy Millboro Spring t-shirt, complete with the jumping deer logo, I hopped on board for our weekend getaway to visit our beloved summer oasis.

When we arrived and were greeted by swarms of sweaty, energetic girls, I think everyone was wishing they had taken my approach. Anyway, I blended right in... so much so that I was tempted to just throw my duffle on a bunk and stay for the remaining week. In fact by the end of the evening, I knew the location of every empty bunk, thanks to the invites to stay from small children clinging to my arm. Trust me, I was tempted.

But here I am, back in the real world, where my short Saturday afternoon at camp almost feels like it was a dream. Is there such a thing as a year round camp counselor? I think that is my calling.

Can you hear me now?

No.

The only thing I can hear right now is the ringing in my right ear. Last night I did something very unlike myself. I went out. Out of my room that is, past the hour of 7pm. Anyway, last night I decided to see how the other half lives, to experience the unscripted drama of the real world, by venturing to a concert [by myself].

Going to a concert by yourself is sort of liberating... not to say that I didn't look like a complete idiot standing there by myself in between acts, but its just empowering knowing that you can up and go to see whatever band you want- without having to conform to someone else's music tastes. You can dance, not dance, drink, not drink, sing, not sing- and be perfectly content because there is no one around to judge you- other than the massive crowd of strangers piled on top of you.

Anyway, I went to the concert because one of the guys in the band [The Alternate Routes] went to my high school. He was a senior when I was a freshman, and I'm not sure if we ever even had a real conversation. I went mainly because I wanted to see what someone else was doing with their life. I guess I wanted to live vicariously, just by watching.

When I showed up, early as is my curse, I turned to come face to face with my high school acquaintance. After a surprised look, he gave me a "Hey" of recognition. So there I was, in some West Village concert venue, talking to a rock star version of a person I once knew, thinking who am I?

HELLO Magic

I came into my office to drop off my stuff this morning and as I was going out the door to go down to the cafeteria and grab some breakfast, I glanced at the office across from mine. Usually I am greeted by a empty chair, or even the woman who works in that office, but not this morning. This morning I am face to face with a monstrously tall guy standing in the doorway, staring straight at me.

Of course it is 9:30, I'm barely awake, no caffeine in my body and there I am having a minor heart attack. After a few seconds I was able to calm the panic rushing through my body.

Upon closer inspection, I recognized the smiling face of my voyeur- Magic Johnson, or rather a cardboard cut out of Magic Johnson.

Good one Magic, you got me.