Showing posts with label New York City. Show all posts
Showing posts with label New York City. Show all posts

3.01.2013

Lost In Time, Lost In Brooklyn

Not really a big deal. I always get lost when I go to Brooklyn. This time I had a map (thank you Google maps ) so it only took turning down a few wrong blocks before I was headed in the right direction:

The MTA Transit Museum.

If I remember this correctly, this train is from the 40s

You have to go down into an old subway station, and if you are not paying attention, you could miss the entrance. (as I did, standing right next to it.) It starts with the history (the breaking ground and the sand hogs), and continues up to the present (hybrid busses). There are old photos and stories and old signage, and when you go down one more flight: Old trains!

You can see my friends in the window.



As you can see, the trains had the old advertising in them as well.


The place was full of people, many New Yorkers, and it seems to me that, despite the amount we all complain about it, we New Yorkers love our mass transit!

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2.19.2013

We mess up everything at R.H. Macy's

My goddaughter and I visited Macy's on President's Day to hunt for shoes. She is having a Sweet Sixteen party — something I never had nor attended in my youth, but there we were, and she needed shoes. The department apparently has been redone, and is now the largest shoe department . . . anywhere? I think they said anywhere. There are something like 300,000 shoes at the Macy's in Herald Square, and we were there to look at them all.

We started on one end, walked briefly through Louis Vitton, but exited quickly. Yes, we got scared away. The first shoes that really caught our eye were in the Michael Kors section. Beautiful, and so much less intimidating.  A man named Edward greeted us there, and when we told him we had just started to look, he told us that he'd give us the "Sandy Relief" discount because we were from New York. Now, I already had a visitor's discount card because I used my Connecticut license, but that was only 10% and the Sandy one was going to be 20%. But he said, "You can only get it if you come to me. So whatever you see in the store, bring it here."

We looked in every section, took pictures, then decided over lunch which ones she would try on.

The red-glitter Dorothy shoes I had to talk her out of buying.
Only because the heel was too freaking high.

What you see here are Burberry shoes. At over $500, a pipe dream.


Well, we almost immediately screwed up the Edward thing. To be fair to ourselves, we had no idea what we were doing. We had no idea how it worked to bring shoes from another section to a salesperson elsewhere. Remember, this place was HUGE. We decided my goddaughter would try on shoes in other sections and when we found something we liked we'd bring it to Edward to ring up.

And the first screw up was in Michael Kors itself. We got there and there was no Edward. So we had this other guy bring out shoes for us. (and what was the first thing he said, which we ignored? "Was anyone helping you?")

Then, across the floor at Nina shoes, we got yelled at.

We had a woman helping us there, and we mentioned that we had shoes on hold at Michael Kors. Then this scary colleague of hers came over and told us we could only have ONE person in Macy's helping us. ONE. What were we doing, having different salespeople in the shoe department helping us?

ONE.

Now we knew we had screwed up, so we gathered a few more shoes to try on and high-tailed it back to Edward.

He was very very disappointed in us. He had to tell the other Michael Kors guy that HE was actually helping us from the get-go, and then he reiterated to us about his being able to give us the secret discount.

And when we got our discount? It was the 10% visitor's, the one we would have gotten anyway! No, we said nothing about the Sandy discount, just got the heck it out of there with our shoes before we were yelled at again.

 The silver ones were the pair we bought.

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2.13.2013

I'm Baaa-aaack. . . .

It's been a while. Okay, truth is, when I tried to use a fancier template for this blog, everything got all messed up. Then, I spent a few years writing a novel. So here I am again, and hopefully will be entertaining you all (or should I say, both of you) once more. Coming up:posts about the Phillip Glass and Friends concert next week at Carnegie Hall, a review of Wicked, and ... well, the usual thoughts about New York City and whatever pop culture is currently amusing me. Just a thought: are blogs passé now that we have Twitter? Yes, that's how long it has been since I've posted here. By the way, I'm @onecheer on Twitter. See you all on the flip.

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4.27.2009

Rollerena's Birthday Bash

With a Studio 54 theme. Of course. (because it's also the 32nd anniversary of Studio 54)

Me and B, taken with V's iPhone

Me and B, taken with V's iPhone

The great Rollerena herself

Disco ball

A party-goer we were dancing with

I am shocked to report that Rollerena does not have a Wikipedia page. For those of you who are interested, here are two articles about the legend that is Rollerena:

Rollerena: A Forgotten Gem of Recent Gay History in New York City
Rollerena: Diva, activist, skater, legend

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3.20.2009

Fleetwood. And Mac. And Nicks. And Buckingham.

A short review here.


We went to see Fleetwood Mac at the Garden last night. Missed Broadway's one minute of darkness for Natasha Richardson because that was when the show started, and we were already inside.

The concert was fantastic. (I almost said "awesome" but that word is so overused it's starting to develop the connotation "passable.") Stevie Nicks seemed to be avoiding all of her high notes (especially on "Dreams," which started the show), but still was in great voice and I wonder if she even really needed to do that. Lindsey Buckingham and Mick Fleetwood continue to be the same musical maniacs they've always been. I could have done without the guy in the aisle leaning on me, and worse, breathing on me with his stale beer breath, as he tried to find his lost seat. He eventually went away. And let me just add here: "Yuck."

A few young women across the aisle from us became quite animated at the end of "Silver Springs," angrily pointing and gesturing while singing along- with the lyrics: "You'll never get away from the sound of the woman that loves you." No, none of us women could relate to that.

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2.03.2009

Ticketmaster, We Have a Problem

The day after the Super Bowl, the day after XXX million people watched the soon-to-be-60-year-old-yet-somehow -ageless Bruce Springsteen rock for 12 minutes at halftime, some intelligent person decided that it would be smart for tickets for several cities on the Bruce Springsteen tour to go on sale the next day. All at once.

If you weren't one of the people trying to buy tickets online, you can pretty much imagine what happened.

My experience was apparently shared by countless others who tried to purchase tickets online. I hit the "search for tickets" button at 9:01 am. The browser told me I had a 15-minute wait. And then, after 15 minutes, a screen came up, telling me that the ticketmaster service was down for technical repairs. I kept trying, and this was the message I kept getting, over and over. I tried different browsers, I tried different nights (in my case, both the Thursday and the Saturday May concerts at the Meadowlands, plus Nassau Coliseum), but the same message kept appearing. The website was working fine if you wanted to buy tickets for, say, The Dead. System was working fine for them.

And when I finally got a real message an hour later, it was to tell me that there were no tickets available.

Okay, so clearly the tickets sold out fast, there was a glitch in the software, the system couldn't handle the traffic, etc. etc. But what I found particularly disconcerting (ha! no pun intended) is right on the same page that was telling me there were no tickets available was an ad for "Tickets Now!", Ticketmaster's own ticket brokering site. And, imagine my surprise: they already had tickets to sell.

I had several other friends, in different parts of the country, having the exact same experience.

I was appalled last year to find out that the lazy assholes in Albany decided not to renew New York State's scalping -- I mean, resale ticketing -- laws. What, was that beneath you guys or something, or were you under that delusion that deregulating and letting the market just decide the price of everything is good for the average Joe? I could see maybe revisiting the law, I could see revising it, I could see making it less strict. But you guys just let it lapse. And now when an average person tries to buy tickets, the phone lines are down for an hour and yet somehow the ticket brokers already have have blocks of good seats -- whole sections, I am not making this up -- selling for 3 to ten times face value.

I know what some of you are thinking: "oh it's Springsteen, what do you expect?" I don't expect to be lucky enough to get front row seats, or even decent seats, or even any tickets at all every time. But I do expect to feel like I have a fighting chance. And I'm really mad that there is no law in this state that at least tries to curb the resale of tickets by cooperate scalpers. I mean, at least make them wait 24-hours before they mark them up 200%.

In the old days, pre-internet, to get tickets you camped out all night and waited your turn. If you were a huge fan, you didn't mind sleeping on the sidewalk or the ground for a couple of days. Then they started to get more "civilized." In the 80s the Rolling Stones had a tickets lottery, where you mailed in a request and you got a pass to buy a certain number of tickets, and the color of the pass determined what kind of seats you got. Springsteen used to have a similar thing, with armbands or something.

These days, a lot of performers charge insane amounts for their tickets. I guess they figure that people are wiling to pay $500 and more to see the show, why don't they just charge that, and thus deter the resale issue? It worked with the Rolling Stones. The best seats in Giant's Stadium and MSG were over $400. And there were still some of those tickets available close to the day of the show. Take that, scalpers. If you wanted to go to the one-day Cream reunion at MSG, the tickets were selling for something like $800+ a piece, without the scalpers. And then there was what I hope was just a rumor of the Police selling front row seats for something like $20,000. Sting better be in my lap, servicing me, for that price. Meanwhile Bruce, bless his heart, or whoever is responsible for this, keeps his tickets at around $70 to $100 or so. And it used to be, with the GA seats (the ones where you stand in a herd at the front of the stage and feel Bruce sweat on you), that you had to pick them up at the venue the night of the concert and then there was no reentry, but I don't know if they still do that.

Until they changed the law last year, I found that if I got online right at the minute the tickets went on sale, I almost always could get something. Not something all that good, but something. Other people had other techniques: calling an out-of-town Ticketmaster, for example. The laws certainly didn't stop scalping, but it did make it a little easier for civilians to see their favorite bands. Now it's a free-for-all. Last year Cheetah Girls tickets, face value $40, were being sold for over $300 a piece. Yes, little girls, you can only go see the concert if your parents are rich. (Of course, one could argue that not being able to see the Cheetah Girls in concert is really a blessing, but when a kid's 8, she isn't going to agree with you.)

I will no doubt see Bruce again. I might even be lucky enough to buy a ticket off someone who can't go in May. But Ticketmaster has been in business a long time -- and in business with Bruce a long time. I can't help thinking they deliberately had half the entire tour's tickets go on sale at the same minute so the system would get over loaded and frustrated people would go pay the resale prices. Yeah, that's very cynical of me, but the whole thing seemed rather fishy..

related posts:
Ticketmaster, We Have a Problem Update
Bruce Gets the Last Word
People in the Cheaper Seats, Clap Your Hands

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1.20.2009

And the Pendulum Swings

Crowd on the corner of Wall and Nassau Streets, watching President Obama's inaugural address outside of the Stock Exchange.

I can't help seeing a parallel between our new president and our hero of last week, Captain Chesley B. "Sully" Sullenberger. The captain landed a plane that would most certainly have crashed and caused a terrible tragedy. He was exactly the right man for the job, and as luck would have it, he happened to be right where he was needed, at the moment he was needed.

Many of us feel our country is like that plane, in serous danger of a crash landing. Here's hoping that Barack Obama is indeed the right man for the job, as a lot of us think he truly is, and that he lands our plane heroically.

Note to Rush Limbaugh, who was quoted today saying he hopes President Obama fails: Shame on you. And you call yourself a patriot.

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12.06.2008

Maybe Next Year

When I saw this last year, and when I found out that some kind person had uploaded this video of the moment to You Tube, I swore I would post it to my blog.

So here it is: Patti Smith singing "O Holy Night," from her Dec 31, 2007, concert at the Bowery Ballroom.

To those of you who are familiar with Ms Smith, but have not heard her sing this, you are in for a treat. As you are all aware, Ms Smith is not a "singer," per se... not like a Luciano Pavoratti, or ever (shudder) a Celine Dion, or any performer blessed with an outstanding singing voice. But imagine being at one of her concerts, that thunderous rock, the poetic wordsmanship, that in-your-face brazen rebellious spirit, crashing down all around you, and then she slows everything down to a whisper and surprises the audience with something so traditional -- in fact, maybe the most traditional of all, if one could compare such a thing -- and so precious. And that New-Years-Eve-Bowery-Ballroom-New-York-City audience became silent, and hardly breathed for four-ish minutes. Because, while Patti is not a singer in the traditional American Idol sense (and thank God for that), no one puts over a lyric like Patti.

Now if the tall guy in front of our videographer would just remove his head!



I am sad to report that I am not going to see her this year, because the tickets sold out faster than I could get any of my silly friends to make a decision about going. Oh, well. There's always Sirius Radio!

UPDATE: I am posting this version from Dec 29th that same year, because, while the video was shot from farther away, it's from the beginning and includes her spoken intro. I also think she sings it better. I saw her sing this on the 30th, and have yet to find a clip from that night.



Notice in this version some idiot starts yammering on to her (I think it's a her) friend. I mean really, you can't shut up for 5 minutes?

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10.30.2008

New York Waterfalls

Again, my friend Cesar has taken some amazing pics. And yes, I know, I've been neglecting this blog terribly these last couple of weeks. Mea culpa. But these photos more than make up for my absence, no? (to all three of you that read this blog!) Click on the images to see them larger and in their full glory.



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7.03.2008

Things That Make You Go, "Yikes!"

A used car dealer in Missouri offered buyers a choice of two sales incentives: $250 worth of gas, or a free semi-automatic handgun. 80% of the buyers chose the handgun. My negative reaction to this story has a lot to do with the fact that I live in New York. Imagine, if you will, if New Yorkers — let's say all New Yorkers — were armed. Think about the frustrated New Yorkers on the subways, the line at the Whole Foods, the traffic on the LIE, the Macy's fireworks, trying to walk down St Marks Place on a Saturday night. And now picture how often a frustrated New Yorker loses his or her cool and has a meltdown. Now imagine that person having a firearm.
Yikes, indeed.

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6.23.2008

Rosie Comes to Town



Rosie Flores and "Men" sing Truck Drivers Blues at the Rodeo Bar, 6/19/08. Arthur Neilson on guitar with Rosie. As soon as I remember who everybody else is, I'll let you know. (to see this in high quality, click on the picture to go to the YouTube page and select "watch in high quality.")

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5.24.2008

Ah, Spring

Another sign of Spring in New York is the arrival of critters. Not the year-round apartment invaders like roaches and mice, or the outside-your-window fire-escape regulars like pigeons or squirrels. This morning, there was a centipede in my tub.

And yes, I killed it.

Here is what Wikipedia says about the house centipede:

"Unlike its shorter-legged but much larger tropical cousins, the house centipede can live its entire life inside a building. Because they eat household pests, house centipedes are considered among the most beneficial creatures that inhabit human dwellings, but because of their alarming appearance, frightening speed, and painful bite, few homeowners are willing to share a home with them."

There was a moment, as I was dousing it with hot water, that I felt bad. Fact is, humans are the only animals that will kill something just because they don't want it crawling around in their bathtubs. I've now decided that the proper thing to do is simply keep the stopper over the drain. Voilá, no more centipedes in the bathtub; they can live on to eat cockroaches and ants and spiders and (shudder) bedbugs the way nature intended.

And a note to Mike: The air kiss was definitely NOT "one of those light and fluffy Latin lover air kisses." Not light and fluffy at all. Wet and sloppy, in fact.

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5.15.2008

Please Be Patient

How many times a day does a New Yorker hear that from the MTA: "Please Be Patient"? It always makes me wonder what else, exactly, do they expect us to do? Scream and jump up and down? And what if we do loose our cool and make a scene? Does that disembodied voice on the intercom REALLY care if some of us go ahead and have a tantrum?

That being said, I had One of Those Commutes this morning on the 6 train.

The problem with being late EVERY morning is that when you finally have a legitimate excuse for it, it doesn't matter. You are late because you are Not a Morning Person: your 15-pound cat made herself comfortable on your chest just before your alarm went off and you can't bear to move her; you are having a bad case of adult ADD and you can't seem to focus enough to get yourself out the door; you've waited too long to take a shower and now there is no hot water and you have to wait for the boiler to catch up with the demand; you can't figure out what to wear so you change clothes five times; you can't find your keys/wallet/ID; because you are now running late the construction crew who are renovating the apartment next door has parked a Giant Thing outside of your door and you can't get down the stairs; or all of the above. And then, you have One of Those Commutes.

So I made it down my stairs, my cat fed and purring, my clothes Weather Appropriate, my hair smelling of Fructis Garnier conditioner, keys, wallet and ID present and accounted for, and a man sidles up to me and says, "Excuse me, Do you have any spare change?"

I said "no" and shook him off, but he kept smiling at me and then said, "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

"Okay. Well, have a nice day." And then he leans in. "Have a nice night."

Springtime in New York. (see previous post)

He was grinning at me, and kept walking with me, so I crossed the street. Every time I looked over, there he was, smiling at me.

Okay, yes, I shouldn't have looked over. I stopped doing that.

I looped around out of my way until I saw him veer off in the other direction, and headed to my train. When I got down the stairs, there were a hundred people on the platform. This is never a good sign. Then there was an announcement:

"There is a southbound 6 train at 42nd Street." Six stops away. Why do they bother telling us?

There were policemen everywhere, and it occurred to me that Something must have Happened. Then came another announcement:

"Attention passengers. Due to a police action on Bleecker Street, there are train delays on the 4, 5 and 6 lines. Please be patient."

A group of twenty or so tourists picked that moment to enter the station. They huddled together in the center of the platform, right across from the turnstiles. (insert the snarky anti-tourist comment of your choice here.)

Twenty minutes later, a train arrived. The twenty tourists all filed into the same car of an already crowded train. (insert another snarky anti-tourist comment of your choice here as well.)

When the train finally left the station, it went about 6 feet, and stopped.

"Attention passengers. Due to a police action on Bleecker Street, there are train delays on the 4, 5 and 6 lines. Please be patient."

I suppose it was important for someone to say that at this juncture, because I'm pretty sure the riders in the next car were going to start sacrificing tourists.

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5.13.2008

Springtime in New York

Okay, I have been chastised by my loyal fans (both of you) for failing to post anything new recently, so here I am, back again.


I was on a train to Connecticut and instead of taking my usual single don't-you-dare-sit-near-me seat, I thought I'd take a chance and spread out in one of those group of fivers that has a window, with the hope that not too many people would sit next to me.

By 125th Street, another woman sat down across from me, and by Stanford, there were three other people in this cluster of seats.

The first woman to invade my space, at least a decade or two younger than me, put on her iPod and opened a book. It wasn't until two more twenty-something women got on at Stamford and made us shift all the way over to the window that I became curious about the book she was reading. It was a thick paperback, and from the looks of the back cover it seemed it was not a novel: There was a photo of a man in a business suit, and although I never saw the exact title of the book, the back cover shouted "Find the perfect man online!"

Now I'm thinking... am I missing something here? This woman was not model pretty, but she was definitely pretty nonetheless, and not model-thin but who the hell wants to be model thin? So this woman who was maybe 33 at the oldest, is having trouble finding a boyfriend? Yikes! What the heck am I going to do, being dangerously close to completing my fifth decade?

As it often happens, New York City provided me with a tiny glimmer of hope as I was coming home late afternoon on Sunday on the subway. As we were approaching my stop, I stood to get ready to exit, and I felt somebody's eyes on me. I looked elsewhere, figuring that he was either a) looking at my blinged-out Grammy-Awards-50-years tee-shirt, or reading some ad behind my head. But as I was stepping off the train, he caught my eye and air-kissed me.

I haven't been air-kissed by a stranger in I don't know how long. Does that mean I still "got it"? (assuming, of course, I ever had it.) Not sure, but he wasn't a homeless person. He was Hispanic, possibly around my age, dark curly hair, gold chain, yellow and white tee shirt. It was absolutely inappropriate behavior and not actual flirting. But I haven't gotten inappropriate behavior of any kind thrown my way in quite a while.

Ah, Springtime in New York.

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4.25.2008

Florent

Florent is closing, so we went there last night.








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3.27.2008

Random Thoughts Day

1) A huge chunk of ice broke off of the Antarctica shelf yesterday. Scientifically, how big, exactly, is "huge"? 415 square kilometers. You can't get any more scientific than that: it's in kilometers. In layman's terms, for all of us laymen, that's 7 times the size of Manhattan.

2) A Texas man got a sentence of 25 years today for MICROWAVING A BABY. And no, the baby didn't die. (I know what some of you are thinking, and shame on you.)

3) On the lighter side, I received a check in the mail today for $3,985. It appears to be a real check, although I have no idea who these people are who sent it to me. Apparently, if I cash it, I will have agreed to be a secret shopper. While I know for a fact there really are secret shoppers, in this case part of this money is supposed to be used for a money gram. A $3,000 money gram. The whole thing is really fishy, and the check is going into the shredder. If I had a shredder.

4) When I got out of the train at Astor Place tonight, the kid in the Mud truck was playing John Lennon's "Mind Games." I decided I had to talk to him.

"Is that your CD?" I said.

"No," he says, "That's John Lennon."

I did not laugh out loud. "Yeah, I know, I meant, is that your music choice or was it forced on you?"

""Oh. Yeah. It's on my iPod."

"That's a great album," I said, as if he needed or even wanted my approval.

I walked away from the truck as "One Day at a Time" started. Sometimes your favorite music sounds even better when someone else has chosen to play it.

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3.11.2008

Hawk Man

A sighting: From across the platform at the Brooklyn Bridge IRT station came the sound of...pigeons? Actually, it sounded like one very large pigeon. I looked over, and saw a man wearing a hat with a long feather protruding out of it. (stop giggling at the word "protruding.") It took me a minute, and then I recognized him: The Hawk Man of Lower Manhattan. Usually, he caws like a hawk. Today he was cooing. Then chirping. Then he growled like a lion, which confused me.

Eventually he starting cawing, and my world made sense again.

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2.01.2008

My Ex-Ex-Ex

I went to dinner the other night with some friends, namely, the first friend I ever made in New York, another friend who was in from out of town (who happens to be the second friend I ever made in New York), his sister and her wife. Afterwards we all stood on 23rd Street and, with the Chelsea Hotel's neon sign hovering over us in the background, we posed for a picture . I would post this picture, except I do not know how to yet. It was a real camera, by the way (or should I say "BTW"?), not a camera phone. As we were saying our goodbyes, I heard a familiar voice call my name.

I turned around, and there was my ex-ex-ex, guitar, or possibly guitars, on his back, heading to the A train. He sounded genuinely happy to see me. The last time I ran into him was last June,
when I spotted him coming into the subway as I was exiting. He spent ten minutes politely giving me the run-down of the current state of his life, not making eye contact with me. It was the first time I'd seen him since we both decided we were through with each other. (Actually, I don't think he realizes I was as much done with him as he was with me, but I can live with that.) Anyway, the other night's sighting was much shorter than June's, but much friendlier.

His birthday is in a couple of days, and although it would make many of my friends shudder and then tell me what a stupid idea it would be, I might call him to say "Happy B-Day."

I don't know why I would do that. No, my alarmed friends, I have no intention of trying to make him my ex-ex-ex-ex. Just one of those things I guess, ensuring good karma or striving for a normalcy we never had, or sticking it to him that I still kind of look okay, if you look at me in the right light and squint a little.

(Truthfully, my ex-ex-ex and I will never be normal.)

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