Tuesday, October 19, 2004
Fallerrific!
When we landed in New York Thursday morning, it was already raining, and I was kinda bummed. Southern California is the DARE program for the weather, promising a life of disaster and self-destruction to all who indulge the rain. I've lived here for sixteen years, so not even channel 7's Jonny Mountain and the powers of the Doppler 2000 radar could've prepared me.
But then I had to walk around in it, and it actually felt good. Plus, Marah made fun of me, so I had to stop being a pus. When we explained our appreciation of the rain and need for Fall in general to the box office guy at the Lyceum Theatre, he replied, "Yeah, it must be hard in California with that beautiful weather all year round". Ah, New Yorkers.
By the way, I am my Own Wife? Really good. I'm not gonna lie. I had reservations about a one-man show centered on a German transvestite who took in outcasts (which, you know, was just about everybody) in his/her antique shop during WWII. But, unlike most solo performance shows, the character(s) were the split effort of an actor, writer, and director, which saved it from over-indulgence.
So it rained. And we walked. A lot. Walked to the coffee shops, bars, and restaurants of Williamsburg, where we stayed. Walked from Times Square to the Guggenheim. Walked and shopped up and down Broadway. Walked through Central Park and its neighborhoods. Walked around the East Village where our host, Matt, brought us to Coyote Ugly, which consisted mostly of lonely, middle-aged men (who knew?). We all agreed there were fewer exposed ta-tas than expected. Well, most of us agreed. Marah smiled and nodded a lot. She was more emphatically on board than anyone when CU was suggested, but something tells me her enthusiasm had more to do with good sportsmanship.... or she just digs on drunk chicks who flash their boobs. Either way, she gets props. As does Matt, for putting us up in his no-bedroom loft.
What I liked most about Williamsburg is the mix of old neighborhood staples with new developments. It's the Silverlake of Brooklyn, which means there are a lot of painfully cool retail shops, bars, etc. But most of the hipsters flock to one strip, so once you get away from that, Normals abound. Well, mostly Normals. The strangest moment of the trip happened while the three of us were walking near the East River. In an empty parking lot, we ran into three Civil War Re-Enactors getting into costume.
Matt: You guys win?
CWR 1: Oh, we didn't battle today.
CWR 2: (self-conscious, turning on CWR 1) He meant historically, dufus!
However, this might've been one-upped later on the subway, when a fat dude asked Matt to pay him to do twenty sit ups. He struggled through three, and then used his hands to support him for the next seventeen.
Then I got home Sunday and it was raining here, too. Nice. Bring on the sweaters and pumpkin pie, I say.
When we landed in New York Thursday morning, it was already raining, and I was kinda bummed. Southern California is the DARE program for the weather, promising a life of disaster and self-destruction to all who indulge the rain. I've lived here for sixteen years, so not even channel 7's Jonny Mountain and the powers of the Doppler 2000 radar could've prepared me.
But then I had to walk around in it, and it actually felt good. Plus, Marah made fun of me, so I had to stop being a pus. When we explained our appreciation of the rain and need for Fall in general to the box office guy at the Lyceum Theatre, he replied, "Yeah, it must be hard in California with that beautiful weather all year round". Ah, New Yorkers.
By the way, I am my Own Wife? Really good. I'm not gonna lie. I had reservations about a one-man show centered on a German transvestite who took in outcasts (which, you know, was just about everybody) in his/her antique shop during WWII. But, unlike most solo performance shows, the character(s) were the split effort of an actor, writer, and director, which saved it from over-indulgence.
So it rained. And we walked. A lot. Walked to the coffee shops, bars, and restaurants of Williamsburg, where we stayed. Walked from Times Square to the Guggenheim. Walked and shopped up and down Broadway. Walked through Central Park and its neighborhoods. Walked around the East Village where our host, Matt, brought us to Coyote Ugly, which consisted mostly of lonely, middle-aged men (who knew?). We all agreed there were fewer exposed ta-tas than expected. Well, most of us agreed. Marah smiled and nodded a lot. She was more emphatically on board than anyone when CU was suggested, but something tells me her enthusiasm had more to do with good sportsmanship.... or she just digs on drunk chicks who flash their boobs. Either way, she gets props. As does Matt, for putting us up in his no-bedroom loft.
What I liked most about Williamsburg is the mix of old neighborhood staples with new developments. It's the Silverlake of Brooklyn, which means there are a lot of painfully cool retail shops, bars, etc. But most of the hipsters flock to one strip, so once you get away from that, Normals abound. Well, mostly Normals. The strangest moment of the trip happened while the three of us were walking near the East River. In an empty parking lot, we ran into three Civil War Re-Enactors getting into costume.
Matt: You guys win?
CWR 1: Oh, we didn't battle today.
CWR 2: (self-conscious, turning on CWR 1) He meant historically, dufus!
However, this might've been one-upped later on the subway, when a fat dude asked Matt to pay him to do twenty sit ups. He struggled through three, and then used his hands to support him for the next seventeen.
Then I got home Sunday and it was raining here, too. Nice. Bring on the sweaters and pumpkin pie, I say.
