Grills, beers, fireworks and the 4th. This combination is rarely disrupted for me from year to year. Fireworks are in the sun-down future of today, but I’ve already checked off the grilled food and icy beer.
Grilling a meal makes me feel fantastic. Happy 4th of July.
As the MTV Movie Awards came to a close (yes, I watch them. What?), I heard sirens outside, whining to a crescendo. I exchanged quizzical expressions with my roommates and visiting sister. “Um.. is that on our street?” one of them asked. Red light dancing on our living room wall answered the question.
Perched on a balcony, we watched a total of four fire trucks roar onto our street. Most impressively, one of them parallel parked directly in front of our house. Firefighters entered one building and investigated the front foundation of several buildings next to it, seemingly without haste.
After around 15 minutes of scrutiny, the members of the FDNY hopped back into their trucks and rode off without explanation or any sort of fire fight.
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.
For a weekend that was supposed to be dreary and wet, I’ve spent a lot of time outside. This hot spring Easter morning, I lounged on my roof, first with a cup of coffee then with a glistening bottle of Corona. My friends and I listened to music, gazing across other Brooklyn rooftops and the people outside. Someone was washing his car, a neighbor worked on his rooftop garden, and a couple sauntered outside dressed in suits, pastels and shoulder pads, ready for afternoon mass.
Spring in the city. Flowers blooming amidst skyscrapers. It’s beautiful.