Tag: #newyorkcity

  • A Friendly Mask-less Walk

    So, I have been walking around the neighborhood without a mask for a little over a week now. I did the thing where I have my mask on but I have pulled it under my chin. It’s like trying to have it both ways; I have a mask on but I don’t. At the start of the week, I just pulled the band-aid off, and went out mask-less, but I do take a mask with me, tucked into my front shirt pocket. (There is always a chance I might have to go in a store or ride a bus, so I keep the mask on me at all time.) There was a bit of nervousness with the act, like I was breaking some social code, like white pants after Labor Day.

    When I walk around, even with the dog, there are a few people that give me a dirty look, but this is New York, so that really is par for the course. Also par for the course is that most people keep looking down, or straight ahead as if you don’t exist.

    But today, as I walked the dog, it was the first day that I noticed that smiles are coming back. And even in some cases a smile with a nod. It’s a small touch of friendly, and it does make the neighborhood feel like a neighborhood again.

  • Riding the Subway Again

    I am fully vaccinated against Covid-19. I received my second Pfizer shot over two weeks ago, so I am cleared to not wear my mask when outside, and I can ride on mass transit, provided I still mask up.

    The subway is my big test. I have not used mass transit since March 2020, so it has been 14 months that I have stayed in my neighborhood to run errands by myself. When the wife is available, we use our car, but that means it has to be after work or on weekends. Though it works, it’s not always practical. For us to get back to “normal” I need to use the subway to run errands in the City.

    Yesterday, I rode the B train from 125th street to 96th so I could shop at the 93rd Street Trader Joe’s, and then back. This was my test day, and I know that it was a test that I would easily accomplish, so I guess it was more like re-experiencing normalcy.

    Standing on the platform at 125th, I put my headphones on, and listened to music, which I really hadn’t done outside of the home in a while. It was reassuring to hear the overhead announcements about the incoming train stopping on the local track. The smell from the tunnel as the wind rushes up when a train approaches; that twisting smell of tar, and exhaust, and a hint of garbage.

    When I boarded the train and sat, there were very few people around. I wasn’t sure what to do with myself for the short ride. I was listening to music, but I felt that I needed to do something. So, I pulled out my phone and played a game. I wanted to look around, but I felt that I should stay in my little bubble.

    I got out at 96th, and walked down Central Park West. It was reaffirming to listen to music, meandering down the street, and see people coming and going; kids and dog walkers, delivery and doormen, people strolling and self-involved.

    The shopping at Trader Joe’s was normal, or Covid normal. A short line out front, people keeping their distance in the store, and a very long checkout line. My groceries filled two double bagged paper bags, so a modest haul for my family of three, but it was also two heavy bags that I had to carry three blocks and an avenue.

    I was out of shape for that; carrying stuff any distance, and it really wasn’t that long of a distance. We had been doing big grocery shops with the car, so I had forgotten the rule of “You only buy what you can carry.” By the time I made it back to the 96th station, I began to feel the strain in my shoulders.

    I took another B train, uptown this time, and when I stepped on, I took a seat where someone had been sitting who had just gotten off. This was something that everybody does all the time on the subway, and as I sat down, I had the thought that maybe it’s not safe to sit where someone had just been sitting? Then I had to remind myself that I’m vaccinated, and you can’t get it from a surface.

    I departed the B at 125th Street, and when I stepped off the train a smell of fish hit me. I had forgotten that there is a spot on the uptown side of the platform that is right under a fresh seafood shop. It was a little reminder of the quirks at the station. It was a detail that was a fun reminder, but come the sticky heat of summer, it will no longer be so pleasant.

    I made it home, and the total time that the errand took, from leaving the apartment to returning to it, took one hour and thirty minutes. If memory serves, I used to be able to accomplish the task in one hour flat. So, I have something to work towards. Because, I will be doing this again; The riding and walking and carrying, but at some point, I won’t have a mask on, right? That’s the real return.

  • Hey NYC Mayoral Candidates, Buy a Home in Brooklyn

    I quote Desus and Mero on this, “Why would anyone want to be mayor of New York?”

    It is a job where 80% of the city hates you, at any given time, no matter what you do.

    Mind you, I have only lived through two mayors in my time here; Bloomberg and de Blasio. Neither one of those guys inspired me to vote for them. But this election cycle, I feel more civically involved and plan on voting this time around. The truth of the matter is that the Democratic Primary for Mayor is the real election, as the Republican candidate doesn’t stand a chance. Full disclosure, I am not registered as Democrat, I’m an Independent, so I will not be allowed to vote in the primary of either party. General election all the way for me.

    So, there are eight people running for the Democrat nomination; Andrew Yang, Kathryn Garcia, Shaun Donovan, Scott Stringer, Maya Wiley, Ray McGuire, Eric Adams, and Dianne Morales. I haven’t done much research on any candidate, so I’m not sold on anyone. But, the nomination is out of my hands, so, I’ll have to see who is selected.

    But, there are a few things I do want whomever becomes mayor of this city to be aware of, and that’s how much it costs to live here, which is stupidly expensive. (Not San Francisco stupid which is like a whole other planet of unreasonable stupid.) Donovan and McGuire were asked what they thought the median home price in Brooklyn was, and their answer was in the range of $100,000 and less. So you know, the median price of a home in Brooklyn is $900,000. You can read the story here for more information on what the other candidates said, which was closer to being correct.

    Odds are that Donovan and McGuire, who are not leading in the polls, won’t get the nomination, but still, how did these two come up with that number, which was so far off? Clearly, they are out of touch, but do they think $100k buys a lot, or do they think that $100k homes are still available today, or was that what $100k could buy 40 years ago and they just defaulted back to that number?

    Either way, except for Yang, all the candidates got he question wrong. It doesn’t bode well for us if the person who wants to lead has no idea how difficult it is to live in this town. See, who wants this job?

  • Sounds of New York

    There is a guy singing in the construction site behind our building. At least, I think he’s singing. It’s more like a deep belly “Huh!” followed by several other “huh’s.” With the construction site being a hollow cement post and lintel structure, that has yet to be filled in with walls, or pipes, or anything, so it just behaves like a big echo chamber. Every sound, hammer pounding, yell, or really terrible idea of signing, is just amplified in the neighborhood.

    When we were staying up at our friend’s house for the weekend, we slept with the windows open. Now, the house was not in the country, though it was a small town, but in a small neighborhood subdivision. Yet, for an occasional car passing by, it was very quiet out there. Nothing happening, just the sound of still.

    Last night, back in New York, we slept with the windows open. I woke up around 4am, and as I lay in bed, trying to fall back to sleep, I listened to the City. It was a quiet night, no weird honking sounds, or sirens going by, but there is a hum to the City. It’s like a white noise hum. I couldn’t place my finger on it, but it was there, just a very low humming; like a machine running automatically.

  • Personal Review: The Real World, Season 1, 1992

    The wife and I have been looking for a TV show to watch at night. Something to wash the pallet clean at the end of the day, but not too serious, but also not totally dumbed down. After searching around all the streaming services, we landed on The Real World from MTV on Paramount+.

    When we started season 1, which took place in 1992 New York City, it was a fun reminder of what early 90’s life was like, as we were in high school when the show premiered, and it was a neat snap shot of what pre-Giuliani New York was like. Also, this was the show that birthed the “reality” genre, so to go back to the source, so to speak, was enlightening; not only for the way things were, but how they are now.

    I was 15 when I watched the show originally, and my memory of the show had holes, but it was rather intact. Now, 44-year-old me watched it with a more cynical eye, and found the show slanted to a very specific perspective.

    Of the seven cast members, six of them were currently living in New York at the start of the show, while one member, Julie, was from out of town, Alabama, but she has aspirations to be in New York as a dancer. Thus, the fish out of water storyline that followed through the whole season. The other six members were all in the arts, at the start of their careers; one writer, three musicians, one painter, and one model. A very liberal arts group.

    15-year-old me remembered that this was my first experience with seeing people of my generation pursing the arts, and struggling. Before this show, if I wanted to see young people in the arts, it was either the Lost Generation of the 20’s, the Beats of the 50’s or the Hippies in the 60’s. What the 44-year-old me saw was that some of the people were working much harder than others. My memory of the show was that it had a very voyeuristic quality, but remained true to the proposition that it was showing people being “real.” Older me, having experienced other “reality” shows, could see the manipulation of the cast and certain situations.

    As I finished the first season, it was much tamer than I remembered. Knowing what is coming down the pipe with the reality television genre, you can see the start of how things will be edited and presented to have a desired effect. It was like a quarter of the way through the season, the producers realized that this wasn’t a documentary, but a story that needed to be compelling, so the audience would tune in next week.