Beards. They’re everywhere. The NHL post-season Playoff Beard shenanigans promotes scruff on all participants’ faces (if they can grow them.. remember Sidney Crosby’s awkward facial hair?), more baseball players than usual have sweat dripping off their grizzly-haired faces, and I just saw a commercial for an upcoming show, Whisker Wars, which highlights competitive beard-growing. I personally am a fan of beards, but it seems like the mustache is being completely ignored. I grew up with a father that sported a seriously badass handlebar mustache, so maybe I’m biased, but this post marks the start of what I’m calling Mustache Sighting. I am seeking legit mustaches in any form.
I was shuffling home yesterday, looking for signs of life in my neighborhood (read: new places to buy/eat delicious meals) when I happened upon this. I have no idea what business or home resides in this building. I was too surprised to investigate right at that moment. Also, it had started to rain.
Amidst the scrawling variety of crude drawings, sloppy signatures, eyeless movie posters, and the ever-present F-word, there sometimes exists a subway quote of a different flavor. I stared at this one for a while before I took a picture.
Last week I traveled to Phoenix, Arizona for work. I was put up in a swanky hotel replete with stellar amenities and mountain backdrop. I arrived looking like I always do when I travel — seat-mashed hair, sweaty complexion, and in heavy footwear (inappropriate in 90 degree weather) so I wouldn’t have to lug them in my carry-on.
As I rolled up to the gorgeous Royal Palms Resort & Spa, I instantly felt that there had been some mistake. Me, at this place?!
I was early and my room wasn’t ready, so I grabbed the shadiest table (I’m so, so pale) I could find near the pool. I looked around; the attractive Royal Palms patrons seemed to all be lounging in designer suits and cover-ups, silently sipping icy drinks. I ordered a quesadilla and a beer, which made the waiter giggle.
The landscape was beautiful, but what struck me was that everyone I encountered was so incredibly nice. Whether it was the attentive concierge or my coworkers out of the Phoenix office, I was blown away by the unfaltering smiles and happiness.
As my three days in Phoenix came to a close, I taxied to the airport for my flight to JFK. People anxious to return to New York crowded the gate. The gate agent was… exasperated. She pleaded with the impatient to be courteous. No one moved.
The night after I returned to NYC, I attended the Unknown Art Show at the Hudson Hotel. I saw beautiful, edgy, and innovative pieces created by local artists, and I felt the energy of the music and people in the basement space. It turned me on.
Even though I savored the sunshine and warm pleasantness in which I was wrapped for a few days, I find I need an edge to my life. A different kind of positive attitude. And that is why I live in New York.