The Biggest Holiday Of The Year

I meant to post this on Friday, but didn't get around to it. I suppose I could just change the date of this entry to be Friday, March 17, but that would be cheating.

At any rate, I never knew until last year how big of a deal St. Patrick's Day is to some people. I guess I don't really pay attention to too many holidays except for the major ones or the ones where I get a day off. But I remember talking to a coworker last year about how he was liking New York so far for the six or seven months that he had lived here. He told me he loved NYC and was telling me about all the great times he's been having. Then he told me that the best day he has had in New York was St. Patrick's Day.

St. Patrick's Day? It has never occurred to me to do anything for St. Patrick's Day. I knew people went out to the Irish pubs, and I think there's a parade, but I never thought that much about it. Well, my co-worker, who is Filipino by the way, said he had the best time and was going to have friends from out of town visit him for the next year. Wow, out of town visitors. That never crossed my mind either.

Sure enough, he had a bunch of people visiting from out of town, and invited me along. I declined. I went to the movies instead.

My New Years

I realize this is a little late, but I wanted to tell everyone how I spent New Years.

I was traveling back from San Francisco on New Year's Eve. My flight was supposed to leave at 11AM, but the Bay Area was having a really bad rain storm that was delaying all the flights. I had some tentative New Year's Plans, but nothing I would have been heartbroken over, if I had missed them. I just hate flying back East since you lose so much time and it's so late by the time you get back.

I thought I was never gonna get out of the airport. United kept delaying and delaying my flight. Every hour, it seemed that the gate agent was making another delay announcement. The other issue was that since SFO was in scheduling chaos, many flights, including mine, couldn't be properly staffed because flight attendants were stuck in the air or delayed getting to their next flight. I passed my time listening to my iPod, talking on the phone, and munching on some See's chocolates that I had bought at the airport stand originally as a gift, but I figured my friend wouldn't mind if I had some, or in my case, all of them.

Eventually, at around 4PM, PST, it was time to board. Our scheduled time of arrival in New York was 11:30PM, EST. But I knew there was no way I'd make it to any New Year's Party in time for the new year, unless there was a party at JFK. I could hear this guy who was still holding out hope and telling his friends on the phone that he was going to jump in a cab as soon as he got out of baggage claim and head all the way to Brooklyn from JFK just in time to see the ball drop on TV. I didn't really care though. I've never been a big New Year's person anyway.

The flight was completely full. Every seat on board was occupied since so many people were flying stand-by on my flight. After takeoff, the flight was pretty uneventful. The poor flight attendants were working really hard to keep everyone happy because they were understaffed too. After the meals and drinks were served (or "beverages" which I've always thought as a really gay word), we settled into our seats and watched the movie or slept.

A few hours later, a few minutes before 10PM, EST, one of the flight attendants made an announcement. Because there was very little chance that anybody on the flight would be able to celebrate New Years outside of the airport, the flight crew was going to celebrate with us. Since we were still in the air and wouldn't land till just before midnight, EST, we were going to "celebrate" New Year's in Santiago, Chile, where it was about to turn midnight. The crew started passing out champagne, and then the flight attendant said, "Ok, get ready to count down." We all counted down "10, 9, 8,.....Happy New Year!" and toasted each other.

It was so cute and a surprisingly nice way to spend New Year's Eve.

Today At The Gym

I woke up fairly early today for a Saturday. After puttering around my apartment for a bit, I decided to go to the gym. I belong to Equinox and the closest branches to me are 76th & Amsterdam and Columbus Circle. I prefer Columbus Circle because it's a bit more spacious and sharing the same building as Whole Foods is very convenient.

I decided to do some cardio that day and got on the treadmill. I kind of needed to clear my head and so running was good. I ran four miles and then got off the treadmill to cool down and towel myself down.

As I walked off the treadmills, I tuned into the TVs. Soon I was totally engrossed in The Real World/Road Rules challenge and stood there glued to the TV set even though there was no sound, just subtitles. While I was watching the show, I happened to be standing behind an elliptical machine. A woman soon approached me and asked "Excuse me, are you using this?" I replied "Oh, sorry. No."

So I moved out of the way. As I did so, my eyes were still glued to the TV. But I should have watched where I was going instead of the TV. I tripped over the elliptical machine I was standing behind, and knocked into the woman on the next machine and fell over her pedals. I braced my fall with my arms and ended up banging my right arm into a standing beam with a mirror surrounded by a metal frame that I scraped my elbow on. I also got a nasty bruise on my left quad from falling on the second elliptical machine. And my broken arm is also really sore. Everyone crowded around me and I was so embarrassed. I told everyone sheepishly, "I'm ok. Was just distracted by the tv..."

Real World isn't worth this much pain.

Gay Band-Aids

On Sunday night, I played tennis at the US National Tennis Center. I hadn't played since November and it felt really good to be on the court. I love playing tennis and just banging the ball away. It's one of the rare situations when I can really stop thinking about everything going on in my life and just think about hitting the ball.

Me and my friend were playing pretty hard that day. At first I was having a little trouble seeing the ball under the bright lights in the tennis court bubble. But soon I hit my groove and stopped framing the ball so much. We were having some pretty good rallies and both of us were hitting the ball hard and running each other back and forth. I soon started to get a couple of blisters on my hand. This always happens when I play tennis for the first time after a long break. I get them from the friction between my hand and the grip on my racquet. They always arise in the same place--lower bottom left corner of my palm and on the right side of my thumb.

I kept on playing because the pain wasn't that bad, but soon the blister at the bottom of my hand popped and I needed to find something to cover it up. My friend had a band-aid, but it wasn't really staying on. I decided to go to the front desk to see if they had a bigger Band-Aid. The guy at the front desk opened his first aid kit and started rummaging through there for a big enough bandage. Finally he handed me one. I thanked him and ran back to my court.

I tore off the wrapping. Oh my god. I never knew there was a such thing as a gay band-aid, but this was definitely the gayest band-aid I had ever seen. This wasn't your normal Johnson & Johnson Band-Aid. This was one of those "novelty" clear ones with a drawing on it. The drawing on the band-aid was this buff shirtless guy doing a volleyball spike over the net. My friend and I were laughing and commenting on the guy's physique.

Well, that band-aid didn't work that well either, but it worked well enough. As long as I held my racquet really tightly, my hand wouldn't hurt so much. The next day I bought some normal band-aids. Actually I bought waterproof band-aids, which are so awesome that I can't believe I've never heard of them before. And I was putting a cold pack on my hand the next day because it was still sore from my vise-like grip on my racquet.

Well all my pain and suffering was worth it. I got to play tennis and I got to wear a new gay accessory.

New Music

Like many people, I rarely buy CDs anymore. I get most of my music online. But I will buy the CD if it's by an up and coming new artist. I like to support artists who haven't made it yet and it makes me feel "in the know" since I can say to say all my friends, "Hey, have you heard that song? Oh you haven't? Well, let me tell you all about it!"

Last Thursday, I was having a pretty shitty day. I didn't go into work that day and just worked from home because I wanted to be left alone. I had my high school reunion that night, and contemplated not showing up, but I decided I should get out of the apartment. I didn't want to be a total hermit.

My reunion was at the Yale Club over by Grand Central. So I hopped on the 2/3 down to Times Square to eventually catch the S shuttle over to the East side. I know this trip well since it's the commute I take everyday to work. Since it was rush hour, there were lots of people running around in the stations.

As I was wading through the throngs of people at Times Square, I saw that a crowd had gathered in the big open area on the way to the S shuttle and the N/R/W trains. Oh great. Another musical performer. I really have no patience for crowds. That's the most annoying thing about New York--everything has a crowd or a long-ass line. When I see musical performers in the subway station and space made by the crowd so they can perform, I just walk right on through the space. I'm in a rush, and I have places where I need to be.

However, I always glance over and listen for the few seconds as I walk past the performers. And then usually I'm on my way. Since I was in such a depressed and crappy mood, I didn't expect to really be in the mood for any musical entertainment. This time, though, I stopped and listened for a few minutes and ended up staying for three songs. The girl's name is Susan Cagle. I really enjoyed her music and it definitely lifted my mood. Apparently she has an upcoming CD coming out on the Lefthook label with Sony/Columbia. Well I have now taken it upon myself to be a grassroots Susan Cagle promoter. I highly encourage everyone to check her out.

Seven things....

So I got tagged by Kristy. This is my first meme! Anyway, here we go:

Seven things to do before I die:
1. Go to business school.
2. Buy an apartment.
3. Get my six pack back.
4. Learn to surf and fence.
5. Reconcile with my parents.
6. Find someone to be with.
7. Be happy with my job.

Seven things I cannot do:
1. Be alone forever
2. Pass up the latest designer offering, especially if it’s on sale
3. Small talk
4. Hit on someone
5. Photograph well (i.e., my photogenic qualities)
6. Serve a tennis kick serve
7. Ski a double black run at Snowbird or any big ski resort out West

Seven things that attract me to blogging:
1. I’ve become more observant.
2. I’ve become more outgoing.
3. Feeling of being a “writer/journalist.”
4. Comments (Hint, hint to everyone who reads this blog.)
5. Gives me something to do when I’m bored at work.
6. Outlet to react in a human way to situations I see or am involved in.
7. Lets my friends know that I haven’t disappeared off the face of the earth.

Seven things I say most often:
1. like
2. I don’t care
3. I’m tired
4. What’s for dinner?
5. Wow
6. I guess
7. Cool

Seven books that I love:
1. Nobody’s Fool by Richard Russo (book & the movie)
2. New York Magazine (I know that’s not a book).
3. How to Eat by Nigella Lawson
4. The Joy Luck Club by Amy Tan
5. The Remains of the Day by Kazuo Ishiguro
6. Thirteen Days by Robert Kennedy
7. The Best Little Boy In The World Grows Up by Andrew Tobias

Seven movies that I can watch over and over again:
1. Sabrina (1995)
2. Ordinary People
3. Friends & Alias (Yeah, I know. Neither is a movie.)
4. Notting Hill
5. Quiz Show
6. Lord of the Rings trilogy
7. Indiana Jones trilogy

Happy (Belated) Chinese New Year

On Sunday, I kind of invited myself to dim sum with my friend, Colin. I just had a craving for it ever since I saw Mr. I-think-I'm-so-great Ming Tsai on TV couple weeks ago take a trip to Hong Kong. There, he went to the Floating Restaurant and had an amazing array of different dumplings and other little plates of dim sum. I was drooling at the sight and wanted to go for some as soon as I could.

I picked a bad weekend to go. First of all, I hate Chinatown. I can't stand the crowds, the screwed up streets, 200 year old people who walk way too slow buying who knows what and the cheap business owners there who don't take credit cards. All of this was exacerbated by the throngs of people for the Chinese New Year Parade. I don't know what my friends were thinking because they told me they specifically chose this restaurant because it was away from the parade hoopla. My friends must have been crazy because it was smack dab in the middle of the parade.

Anyway, I finally arrived and had a nice time enjoying the dim sum. Too bad you have to go all the way to Chinatown for it.

Brave New Gym

This month I've been going to the Reebok Sports Club on a free pass that I got in the mail. The Club sent it to me as a friendly "neighborhood" gift since I live 5 blocks away from the Club. My membership at Equinox had expired and so this was a good time for me to try out the ritzy Reebok Sports Club.

This club has everything. Basketball courts? Yep. Indoor Rock Climbing Wall? Got it. Outdoor track? Yep. And of course it has your standard free weights, machines, treadmills, ellipticals, like any other gym. It's really an impressive facility, which is good because you have to pay an arm and a leg to join there. The initiation is $1,200 and then you pay $188/month after that. I could have joined for only $600 initiation. Geez, what a bargain. And I thought Equinox was pricey.

With my free pass to the Reebok Sports Club, I could also visit any Sports Club LA in the city. One night, with my free pass in hand, I visited the Sports Club LA at Rockefeller Center. It's a little difficult to find, but eventually I found it and handed over my pass and went down to the locker room to change. I had brought a green Nike t shirt that day and a pair of navy blue shorts. As soon as I changed and locked my stuff up, I went back upstairs to the exercise area. Upstairs, I encountered a sea of grey t shirts and grey shorts. Oooooook....this is a little weird. Then I realized that everyone was wearing the same thing! Turns out the Sports Club LA (but not Reebok for whatever reason) lends you clothes to wear while you work out.

While I can see the convenience of this, especially going to the gym without lugging a gym bag around, it was really weird. Working out with 100s of people who are all dressed the same, and you're the oddball out because you're not wearing the gym's clothes is a very bizarre experience. I felt like they were all clones and I was going to be kicked out for not conforming.

To top it all off, when I got back to the locker room and passed by the desk where you can borrow clothes, I saw that you could also borrow jockstraps.

Ok, now THAT is going too far.

End of Physical Therapy

My arm is all healed now, and I had a very sad good-bye with my Physical Therapist. We hugged and planned to have dinner sometime. Throughout our months together, we gabbed about everything under the sun. I told her about my soap-opera love life; she bitched to me about her husband (jokingly--they're very happy togther.) I miss my sessions because a lot of my therapy was just a glorified massage on my broken arm, and also they were a nice break from work.

But now I have these metal plates in my broken arm for the rest of my life. On the day of my last appointment, I bought a copy of my Xray. It looks very dramatic. Two huge plates and 12 giant screws are now implanted in my arm. In a couple of years my doctor said I can have them removed. But why would I do that? It's proof of such a cool war story, although I do have my scars to show too. My doctor said that actually most people just have them stay in because removing them would require another surgery. Most people who get them out are people who might have a propensity to get injured again, like a football player, because the plates can really screw things up in the event of a reinjury.

Well, unless I feel any real pain, they're gonna stay in. For a while, leaving the house after my broken arm was like leaving the house with a huge pimple. But now I'm proud of my scars. They make me look tough, which is always nice.

Vanishing in the Colorado Mountains

I was in Aspen last week doing some skiing. I've never been there before. I had always avoided Aspen because of the logistics of getting there. The flights to Aspen are expensive and constantly delayed or cancelled. In fact, a lot of times the 30 minute flight from Denver to Aspen is more expensive than the 3 hour flight from New York to Denver.

Lo and behold my flight to Aspen was cancelled due to bad weather. We let out a collective groan when the pilot made the announcement. We were actually on the plane and in our seats at the time of the announcement. Apparently, visibility was only a quarter of a mile. Disgruntled, we gathered our things and got off the plane and made a mad rush for the Customer Service Counter (aka CSC, which now replaces "deplane" as my new favorite piece of flight lingo.)

When I got to the CSC, I learned that there was about 0.0000001% chance I'd make it to Aspen that day. There was a big snowstorm that was just dumping Aspen. Good for skiing, but not good for my transportation needs. I had to decide whether to find alternate means or just spend the night in Denver. I considered spending the night in Denver. I had never spent any time there before and thought it might be fun. I could experience true Rocky Mountain Hospitality instead of the faux, pretentious scene in Aspen or Vail or Beaver Creek (where I went last year.)

I eventually decided that I wanted to be in Aspen that night. I didn't want to lose the hotel room that I had already paid for that night. So I had to decide whether I was going to rent a car or take a shuttle service. Since driving for 4 1/2-5 hours in a snowstorm did not sound too appealing to me, I investigated the shuttles and joined an impromptu group of passengers and got on a van to Aspen.

Last year when I went to Beaver Creek, that was what I had chosen to do in the first place through Colorado Mountain Express, the main ground transportation service from Denver to all the ski resorts. They do a pretty brisk business and they have drivers running all over, back and forth between Denver and the ski resorts and between the ski resorts too.

Last year, when I was in Beaver Creek, I took the shuttle both ways. On my return trip, I took the last shuttle back to Denver, which was around 6:30PM. The driver picked me up at my hotel and loaded my bags. We picked up a couple more passengers and we were soon on our way. I had a late red-eye flight on sucky JetBlue back to New York that night and so I had plenty of time.

We were about an hour into our drive. So far the drive had been uneventful. I was sitting in the front seat and was pretty comfortable. I had my Bose headphones, my iPod, and a seat to myself. I even had room to recline since there was no one in the seat behind me. I didn't get a chance to strike up any conversations with any of my fellow passengers since I was up in the front myself. But that was ok since none of us were that talkative. No one had broken the ice yet.

So we were driving along I-70, when our driver pulled off the highway without saying a word to anyone on the van.. I kind of raised my eyebrow, but figured our driver needed to take a bathroom break or get gas. Plus since my flight was so late at night, I didn't really care about any delays.

The driver pulled on to an exit and we get off the exit to Bumblefuck, Colorado. Seriously, there was NOTHING around. Just trees and an occasional street lamp. There weren't even any buildings or other cars for that matter. We drove for a few more minutes and I thought maybe our driver had made a mistake and was going to turn around and get back on the highway to find another place. Instead, he turned off the dirt road we were on and pulled into a driveway of what looked like a high school. Ok, I thought to myself, he's gonna make a u-turn in the high school roundabout driveway. Instead he parked in front of the school, and jumped out of the van with parting words of "This will just take a sec", leaving us in the middle of nowhere. He ran behind what looked like a wall and disappeared.

No one really said anything after our driver left. Then a few minutes later, a girl in the back piped up and said "You guys, isn't this a little weird?" And we all said in unison "Uh....yeaaaahhhh." We all started to say "Where the hell are we? And where is our driver???" Then another girl in the back chimed in and said "I think someone should go out there." I turned around from my seat and said "Are you CRAZY? I'm not going out there." Then the girl said, "Yeah, it should be one of the guys who goes out there." Then another guy said in response "Oh come on, it's 2004, girls are every bit as strong as guys." Then we reached a compromise, if anyone was going out there, we were all going out there. Safety in numbers. We decided that if in ten minutes our driver wasn't back, we were gonna out and check on him. In the meantime, we started to wonder what the hell our driver was doing. Someone joked that a hidden camera was in our van to tape our reactions to this. "Yeah, we're being punked," someone said. Then I was like, "No, we're on Boiling Point!"

Just when we couldn't stand it any longer and were about to get out of the van, we see our driver running back to us. He opened the door, got in his seat, turned on the ignition and started driving, not saying a single word to us. We all looked at each other with raised eyebrows. When we were on our way, one of the girls asked "Um....are you ok?" Our driver just replied very matter-of-factly "Yeah, sorry. It was an emergency."

I can only speculate as to what went on. Probably the most reasonable explanation is that he had to do #2 or maybe he was sick and had to vomit. Or maybe he was meeting his "supplier" to transport something to Denver. Who knows. Anyway, I wasn't reported missing or anything and made it safe and sound to Denver International Airport. The world was lucky I made it through.

I Miss Everything...

The transit strike is long over now, but I saw a store the other day that had "Strike Sale" sign. I guess they didn't think it was too late to prey on people's frustration or sympathy. But I felt left out. I completely missed the transit strike in New York since I was in SF for the entire duration. The strike honestly wouldn't have affected me that much. I work from home a lot, and so I would have just stayed home if I had been in New York.

I also missed the blackout in the late Summer of 2003. I was in dumb old Australia. Actually I love Australia and I miss Sydney a lot. But I felt like everyone was having fun over in NY without me. I heard about street parties, celebrities hanging out with normal folk, free food from restaurants. Of course, I'm sure the people trapped in subways and elevators were none too pleased about the blackout especially during our typically scorching summer. But I didn't know any of them.

Taking a Break

I've got some stuff going on and will be taking a break from this blog for a little while. Hope everyone checks back when I start posting again.

Happy New Year.

Two Choices, Not Three

I'm in San Francisco again this week on business. I flew United on Saturday morning. For some inexplicable reason, my original flight at 6:45AM was cancelled, and I got bumped to the 8:55AM flight. No one seemed to have any idea why my original flight was cancelled. I was like "You shouldn't call yourselves United! You guys don't seem to be "United" in your information."

The flight was nice. I slept and watched some DVDs of Arrested Development and House, my new favorite shows. Towards the end of our flight we were offered a snack. The choices were "Chicken & Fruit" or "Fruit & Cheese." The flight attendant went down the aisle and got to me. I chose the Chicken & Fruit and was given my plate pretty quicly. Then I could hear the flight attendant ask the person behind me. "Would you like Chicken & Fruit or Fruit & Cheese?" The guy behind me replied, "Can I get Chicken & Cheese?" "Um, I'm sorry, sir. We can't mix the plates," the flight attendant told the disappointed passenger.

On her way back to the galley, I rolled my eyes with the flight attendant. I heard her tell another flight attendant "Some guy just asked for Chicken AND Cheese!"

Some people can be so difficult.

Eye Exam

I picked up my contacts today from my eye doctor. I had had an eye exam a few weeks ago with Dr. M.C. at Studio Optix. I kind of like getting eye exams. First, they're pretty non-invasive except for that weird puff-of-air test for glaucoma. Secondly, there's no sense of apprehension for me unlike going to the dentist or a regular doctor. I don't have any serious problems with my eyes, despite my habit of sticking things in my eye. Also, it's kind of fun for me to talk to doctors about health issues because it makes me feel smart and knowledgable throwing out eye doctor jargon like "base curve" and "astigmatic". Maybe it's also nostalgia for me too, since I grew up in a family of doctors.

My eye exam was pretty routine. This was my first time visiting this eye doctor since my old one doesn't take my new insurance. When I walked in, I saw like 100 pictures of celebrities posing with my doctor. Oh, he's one of THOSE doctors. Leave it to me to find THE eye doctor of Manhattan, apparently. Although most of his pictures must have been taken like 20 years ago. Think Julia Roberts from Mystic Pizza or Leonardo DiCaprio from Growing Pains. It's like, get some new pictures, DOCTOR!

My doctor asked me how my contacts feel and asked me whether I get dry eyes a lot. Not really, I replied and then explained how I've been buying these contacts for the last 6 years because at the time when I got contacts for the first time, only one company made contacts that fit my eye, specifically my base curve. I have a very high numerical base curve (9.5) meaning that my eye, or my eyeball rather, is pretty flat. I always told people that with some weird sense of pride because I liked the idea of special contacts just for me. Well, apparently another company now makes contacts in my prescription with my base curve. I tried them out and then went ahead and ordered a year's supply since these new ones felt good and I was running out anyway. Dr. M.C. actually gave me an extra two pairs for free because I had waited patiently for 45 minutes for my appointment since they were running behind schedule.

After the main part of exam was over, my doctor asked me if I wanted to take a peripheral vision test. Hmmm, I'd have to pay an extra $15 for this since my insurance doesn't cover it, and I was sure my peripheral vision was fine. But then I thought what the hell, I'll do it. I had already gotten the puff of air test, a vision test, and my pupils dialated. I might as well go all out while I'm here.

Clearly, I had forgotten what the peripheral vision test was. The doctor's assistant brought me over to a table, and I see this weird contraption that looked like a cross between a computer and an individual movie screen. Then my heart started palpitating. Oh my god. This was THAT test. Crap. This was that very same test that I had failed when I was 16, getting my first driver's license. I remember it vividly. I was at the DMV, which by the way, growing up in Virginia, I thought stood for Drivers & Motors of Virginia. Then when I left for college in Pennsylvania, I was like "Wow, you guys call it DMV too."

Anyway, that day I was all excited about getting my first license. I was so close to getting that little plastic card. I had passed the written and driving test and all I had to do was do this little peripheral vision test where I was supposed to see blinking lights to my right and to my left and press a button when I saw them. Well, this will be a piece of cake, I thought to myself. I peered into the little viewing goggles and waited...and waited...and waited. Um, where are the lights? The DMV woman asked "Do you see anything?" I answered, "No, what am I supposed to see?" My dad looked in the thing and so did the woman, and they both asked "You don't see the lights???" "What lights?," I replied.

Well, I never saw those damn lights, and to this day I think that machine was broken or something. I had to go to an eye doctor after my embarrassing test failure and me panicking that I had degenerative eyes, and get a special note saying that my peripheral vision was fine, which it really was. Maybe I did see the lights, but I didn't know they were actually the lights I was looking for, if that makes any sense. So when I got my second ever peripheral vision test with Dr. M.C., flashbacks of my traumatic experience as a 16 year old flashed back in my head. Luckily it turned out this test was a little different. This test turned out to be more like an arcade game, like Space Invaders or something. All these blinking dark bars flashed all over the screen--to my left, to my right, up, down, etc and I pressed this little joystick thing whenever I saw them.

This time I passed with flying colors. Whew. Another traumatic experience avoided.

I'm Still Here!

Don't worry. I haven't given up on this blog. I've just been busy (and tired) ever since Thanksgiving. I'll have some new entries soon. Actually, probably later today!

Rocks

On Sunday, I visited the Museum of Natural History and had a nice time there. I got to see the dinosaurs which I don't see how anyone could not get excited about. But my favorite thing was the Hall of Minerals and Gems. I got to see all kinds of rocks and it reminded of what I used to do when I was kid.

When I grew up in my first house in Charlottesville, Virginia, we had a dirt hill in between our house and our neighbor's house. Everyday after school, I'd call up my neighbor and we'd go play after school on the hill. We'd take our toy Matchbox cars and roll them on the hill. We'd also bury them and then look for them the next day like buried treasure. The hill was pretty gnarled and had lots of rocks with a few trees and prickly bushes here and there. I was convinced that there was some sort of buried treasure there. One time I took a branch and dowsed for water. I'd walk around with a tree branch and close my eyes hoping to feel tug at my branch. I also "mined" for gold, but found nothing. Another time, I dug a great big hole because I was looking for oil. I had images that black ooze would come shooting up in the air like in the movies.

Obviously, I found nothing, but I did come across a lot of quartz and other rocks. As I got older and learned more in science class, I hunted for the rocks that I had learned about in class. I didn't really find much, but thinking about those times at the museum on Sunday brought a smile to my face. I guess, looking back the hill wasn't so long. I think actually now there's a house on top of the hill. It sure does seem like a long time ago now--back when I was a Virginia boy, and before I became the hard urbanite New Yorker that I am now.

Water, Water

This morning I woke up and went to my bathroom to shower, and get ready for work. I turned on the cold water knob in my sink and then the hot water knob. I accidently turned the hot water too much, and water was pouring out and splashed all over my t shirt. I reached for the hot water knob and turned it lower, but the water wasn't stopping. Oh great, I thought to myself. So idiot that I am, I turned the knob the other way and hot water came GUSHING out. I frantically tried to turn the knob off but it wasn't turning off! It was coming out so fast that the drain couldn't keep up. As the sink filled quickly, my eyes grew wider. Images of a flooded bathroom started to flash through my head as the water began to flow out of the sink and on to the counter. I ran to my kitchen and grabbed a mixing bowl and started to empty the water into my bathtub. But I didn't get a big enough bowl and my efforts weren't doing much good at stopping the flood.

I went to get a bigger bowl and grabbed my phone as I ran back to my bathroom. Now we were getting somewhere. My new bowl was working much better as a flood-emptying vessel. But I still had Niagara Falls coming out of my faucet and I couldn't just stand there doing that for the rest of my day. I called downstairs and told my doorman "Can you send someone up here? I have an emergency. My hot water won't turn off!"

The building maintenance guys came up pretty quickly. They looked under my sink but didn't see a valve to shut the water off. I was a little insulted. I know how to look for a valve underneath a sink! I'm not that helpless. One of the guys ran downstairs to see if he could shut it off from the basement. There was a flurry of activity and walkie-talkie discussions. Meanwhile, I just stood there to the background watching them and having my coffee.

Eventually one of the guys was able to turn the center of the hot water knob with his screwdriver and the waterfall reduced to a trickle making my apartment relatively quiet again. Then the guy who went downstairs came back and explained to me that somehow I had broken the valve down in the basement. How I did that, I have no idea. But now the hot water would have to be shut off for the ENTIRE building for the rest of the day. Oh my god. I was so embarrassed. I could picture a sign in the lobby: "Because of Terence, the building does not have hot water today."

I then left for work. Later on in the day, I got a call from the super saying that everything had been fixed, but I'd have to buy a new faucet or just never use hot water at my bathroom sink ever again. That obviously wasn't going to work. I hate washing my hands in cold water. It feels so unhygenic.

So now I have to buy a faucet. This is kind of exciting. I've never really bought any home improvement fixtures like faucets or sconces or appliances or anything like that. There are so many choices for faucets! I had a hard time making up my mind between a two knob or a single handle faucet. Like my friend said, I like the look of two knobs, but I like the functionality of one handle. I also didn't want a faucet with a really short spout. My pet peeve is having to wash hands where you have to touch the sink to get any water on your hands. Another friend of mine said he likes Hansgrohe, but I wasn't too crazy about them. I also looked at Kohler, but I ended up buying a faucet from American Standard. I did end up getting a faucet with one handle and it happens to be the one that my friend said he liked. I didn't want to spend a ton of money considering that I hope i'll be moving out of this apartment in 2 years or so, but it was kind of cool to play homeowner and do stuff like this. I feel so grown up.

Pandemics

Last week, the good folks at New York Magazine published an "Apocalypse Handbook." I suppose no one really thought that New York Magazine was trying to do a public service. They are trying to sell issues, after all. But it was in a guise as a helpful guide to what one would do in the event of a major disaster. Well this "helpful" guide got me in a panic. The article quoted experts who said NY officials are constantly "reactive" and don't anticipate and make the appropriate preparations for any sort of major calamity that could happen in the city. Then the guide went through a variety of scenarios--Smallpox, Hurricane, Nuclear Plant Explosion, Chemical Spill, Earthquake...you name it. For some of the scenarios, the outcome was fairly optimistic, but for most of the scenarios, you could kiss your ass good bye.

The inspiration of this article was the growing fear of an avian-flu pandemic. The article was disturbingly very vivid in how an innocent traveler from Hong Kong could create an avian-flu pandemic. I hadn't really been following the avian flu story, but I sure did now. I was asking everyone I knew, "So, are you worried about the bird flu?"

That same evening last week when I was reading the article, I went to a good-bye party for someone leaving my old work. It was good to see everyone and I had fun. Towards the end of the party, a plate of fried chicken that someone had ordered came out. Well, I hadn't eaten dinner and I grabbed a piece. So there I was with my chicken leg and talking all about the bird flu. I was like "Yeah, I'm really worried about this bird flu," chomp, chomp. "It's really scary." Chomp, chomp.

Clearly, I forgot what I was eating when I was trying to do my act of public service.

For Some Laughs...

Check out this video of two Korean Girls singing and dancing. It's hilarious.

And I kind of wish I knew the name of that song. Even though I don't understand a word of it, it's kinda catchy.

Check out the Chinese boys too. Although, I don't think they're as good as the Korean girls, they're pretty funny too. They kind of got me on a Backstreet Boys kick now on my iPod.

Party Hard

Everyday, as I leave my apartment for work, I walk by a public playground. There are also a couple of basketball courts and an asphault area where kids play baseball and kickball (actually I've never seen kickball; do kids still play that?). I guess there's a school nearby because I often see kids playing there during the day having recess. On Monday though, I left my apartment around 8AM that morning and saw some kids having a Halloween party. They looked pretty cute and some had some pretty elaborate costumes. As I walked by the festivities, I thought to myself, "Man, kids party early these days." I remember when I was in school, I cringed--and still do--whenever I had to wake up before 10AM. I can't even fathom going to a Halloween party at 8AM, no matter what age I am.

So as you can imagine, I LOVE my extra hour. Daylight Savings Day is the best holiday of the year, and this year was doubly great because I completely forgot about it. It was a much welcomed surprise. I remember waking up on Sunday around 7:30AM and thinking "Wow. Check me out. I'm up early today." Then someone texted me and I'm thinking again "Wow. Everyone's up so early today." So I was feeling pretty good and then I saw one of my clocks that doesn't automatically change for Daylight Savings, and the light bulb clicked in my head. "AHHH. Daylight Savings." The rest of the day and actually this whole week, I felt so rested. I went to the gym and then went down to the Village and walked around a bit and stopped by Jefferson Market to buy a ham because ever since I saw this recipe for a Ham Baked in Coca-Cola, I've been dying to try it. I went to Jefferson because I was so utterly confused about my ham situation and I heard that Jefferson Market has a really good meat department. I had no idea what I was supposed to buy. Do I buy smoked, baked, cooked or roasted? Or am I supposed to buy a raw ham? But isn't ham, by definition, cooked? Luckily, the butcher at Jefferson was very nice and clearly knowledgable about the great ham debate and was sympathetic to my lack of knowledge. I made the ham later that night and it was like gastronomic heaven. It was soooo good. I think I wanna make it again.

Anyway, I digress. Thinking of Daylight Savings reminds me of the time when a few years ago, I told a friend of mine that it was Daylight Savings time. It happened on a day when something significant happened to me and so I was calling all my friends to talk about it. And then I'd end the conversation by saying, "Oh, by the way, it's daylight savings." Later that evening, I turn on the TV to watch the Simpsons, and I realized I missed it. Hmmm...what's going on? Then I look at my calendar. Oh crap. Daylight Savings is NEXT weekend. I told everyone that it was THIS weekend. Some of the people I talked to that day, I hadn't heard from in close to a year. So I proceeded to call everyone back, and say "Oh, SORRY. It's not Daylight Savings today." It turned out that virtually everyone I told had not only believed me, but also told all of their friends that it was Daylight Savings. One of my friends said to me that the Mayor was gonna have to go on NY1 and make an annoucement: "It is NOT Daylight Savings. That was just a false rumor spread by Terence C."

Well, here's the solution. We should just gain an hour twice a year, not once.