September 7 - Day 2: Let’s Just Slow Things Down a Bit, Shall We?
Well, after
yesterday’s Russian novel of a post, today’s promises to be less involved,
simply because I didn’t do anywhere near as much.
I finally turned out the light last night, it was after 5:00 am. Now, since I’m still on west coast time, that wasn’t too bad, but that’s late even for me.
For some reason, I couldn’t see the clock on the DVR on the other side of the room, so when I did wake up, I had no idea what time it was. I struggled to find my phone and was surprised it was nearly 12 noon. I was a little startled, but figured that since I didn’t have any errands, it wouldn’t be that awful.
I got up, and my adventures with the apartment’s plumbing facilities began. The first obstacle came in the form of the bathroom sink. I hadn’t noticed yesterday because I hadn’t really needed to use it. The problem with it is, though, that it’s about the size of one of Donald Trump’s hands to begin with, and, when combined with a tap that takes up space and a shelf above both of them, a more precise aim than mine is required. I ended up getting quite a bit of toothpaste on the floor, but that’s what toilet paper is for, right?
I did work out the logistics of getting hot water, though. If I start with the kitchen sink to get it flowing, I can get the shower water hot reasonably quickly, then the bathroom sink eventually catches up. The problem there is if I run too much lukewarm water, the sink fills, and I have to wait for it to drain s-l-o-w-l-y.
The shower itself is a treat, since the bathtub is on a six-inch platform, so it’s like climbing into a Sherman tank to get into the damn thing. Even then, the fun doesn’t end, because the showerhead is hand-held, with no way to attach it to the wall, so the process becomes soak down, drop the showerhead, apply soap, pick up the showerhead, rinse and soak my head, drop the showerhead, shampoo, pick up the showerhead, rinse, drop the showerhead, apply conditioner, pick up the showerhead, rinse, turn the shower off, and figure out how to climb back out of the tub safely.
Two months of this is going to be a treat.
After that, I dressed and walked over to pick up a newspaper and stop at one of my favorite places, Tompkins Square Bagels. When I was here last year, I must have timed my visits right, because there were usually no more than a few people in the place at a time. Today, though, it was packed (mainly with kids who must have gotten out of school early). Fortunately, someone got up just as my poppy-seed bagel was ready, so I was able to take up my usual window seat, where I was able to watch many, many people wait for the bus. (Not to mention the teenage girl who decided the best place for her to sit and check her phone was on the three-inch high stoop in front of the shop, right in front of the door. These kids …)
While I was eating my bagel and drinking my tea, I kept trying to think of errands I could run, and kept coming up blank, so I came back to my apartment to do some surfing and ended up taking a very refreshing nap while listening to all the stuff that was happening on a surprisingly-busy street: fire trucks (including one that alarmingly stopped right in front of the window [apparently visiting the church across the way], ambulances, workers, and a delivery of a lovely new refrigerator). It cooled down considerably (currently 72), but the humidity is brutal (83%), so I end up soaked with sweat whenever I’m out walking (5.5 miles today).
Eventually, it was time to leave for the theatre, so I closed things up here and set off. Whenever I can, I try to walk to the theatre district. It’s only about 40 short blocks and four or five long ones, and I enjoy being out in the city. One place I don’t enjoy anymore is Times Square. I used to love it. There was an energy and excitement to it, but those have been replaced by hoardes of tourists gawking at everything while jamming up the sidewalks, street performers trying to cheat people of their hard-earned cash, and those odious people who dress up in cheap costumes (or take pretty much everything off) and try to bamboozle unsuspecting suckers into taking their pictures, after which they demand money. It’s just awful now, so I try to avoid it when I can. I made pretty good time and made it to 47th Street in a little over an hour. As delightful as New York can be during a crisp autumn or cold winter, it’s a brutal hellhole during a humid summer. I’ll keep walking, though.
I saw The Band’s Visit tonight, and it may have been the show I was most looking forward to. It won the Tony Award for Best Musical, and I’m a huge fan of its composer, David Yazbek. There’s something about his music that just runs through me emotionally, and this score was no exception. I’m still feeling the after-effects five hours later. My only disappointment was that Katrina Lenk, who won the Tony for Best Actress in a Musical, wasn’t in the show, so I felt a little, well, cheated. The understudy was very good (everyone was), but she wasn’t who I was hoping to see.
I figured it was time I got something to eat (I hadn’t had anything since the bagel), so I consulted Yelp and came up with a place called Bareburger, which (I guess) refers to their policy of using organic and locally-sourced food, rather than the state of dress of the staff (this isn’t Times Square, after all). The food itself (a fried chicken sandwich) was good enough, but the service left something to be desired. Because I was dining alone, I sat at the bar, and the bartenders, while friendly, weren’t overly attentive. Combine that with the power behind the bar going out three or four times (knocking out the bar refrigerators and credit card processors, which meant they couldn’t ring up anyone) and I was there a little longer than I wanted to be. It wasn’t unpleasant; it was just loud.
Leaving the restaurant, I decided to walk back (again, it was going to be only an hour or so), figuring if it got too wearing, I could take the subway. By the time things reached that point, though, I was so close to home that it didn’t seem worth it. What was worth it was seeing the seemingly-endless supply of teenaged and twenty-something women who were out for a drunken Friday night. How these ladies can be in such obvious stages of inebriation while remaining upright on those heels in those tiny dresses is one of nature’s wonders. That said, I do not envy their Uber and Lyft drivers who are left with the unpleasant task of cleaning up gallons of vomit and other bodily fluids. On the other hand, given the low opinion of have of the majority of Uber and Lyft drivers, it’s well-deserved.
I finally reached the apartment, opened the windows, broke out the fan, washed my face and neck with a hot washcloth, took part in the cigarette and marijuana smoke the people next door and on the porch here decided to share, and set to writing this, which is where I am now.
Saturday is a two-show day, so I’ll have to figure out a way to kill approximately three hours between them while avoiding the mobs.
How will I do it? Stay tuned.
I finally turned out the light last night, it was after 5:00 am. Now, since I’m still on west coast time, that wasn’t too bad, but that’s late even for me.
For some reason, I couldn’t see the clock on the DVR on the other side of the room, so when I did wake up, I had no idea what time it was. I struggled to find my phone and was surprised it was nearly 12 noon. I was a little startled, but figured that since I didn’t have any errands, it wouldn’t be that awful.
I got up, and my adventures with the apartment’s plumbing facilities began. The first obstacle came in the form of the bathroom sink. I hadn’t noticed yesterday because I hadn’t really needed to use it. The problem with it is, though, that it’s about the size of one of Donald Trump’s hands to begin with, and, when combined with a tap that takes up space and a shelf above both of them, a more precise aim than mine is required. I ended up getting quite a bit of toothpaste on the floor, but that’s what toilet paper is for, right?
I did work out the logistics of getting hot water, though. If I start with the kitchen sink to get it flowing, I can get the shower water hot reasonably quickly, then the bathroom sink eventually catches up. The problem there is if I run too much lukewarm water, the sink fills, and I have to wait for it to drain s-l-o-w-l-y.
The shower itself is a treat, since the bathtub is on a six-inch platform, so it’s like climbing into a Sherman tank to get into the damn thing. Even then, the fun doesn’t end, because the showerhead is hand-held, with no way to attach it to the wall, so the process becomes soak down, drop the showerhead, apply soap, pick up the showerhead, rinse and soak my head, drop the showerhead, shampoo, pick up the showerhead, rinse, drop the showerhead, apply conditioner, pick up the showerhead, rinse, turn the shower off, and figure out how to climb back out of the tub safely.
The shower in question.
Two months of this is going to be a treat.
After that, I dressed and walked over to pick up a newspaper and stop at one of my favorite places, Tompkins Square Bagels. When I was here last year, I must have timed my visits right, because there were usually no more than a few people in the place at a time. Today, though, it was packed (mainly with kids who must have gotten out of school early). Fortunately, someone got up just as my poppy-seed bagel was ready, so I was able to take up my usual window seat, where I was able to watch many, many people wait for the bus. (Not to mention the teenage girl who decided the best place for her to sit and check her phone was on the three-inch high stoop in front of the shop, right in front of the door. These kids …)
It's a nice place. You should visit.
While I was eating my bagel and drinking my tea, I kept trying to think of errands I could run, and kept coming up blank, so I came back to my apartment to do some surfing and ended up taking a very refreshing nap while listening to all the stuff that was happening on a surprisingly-busy street: fire trucks (including one that alarmingly stopped right in front of the window [apparently visiting the church across the way], ambulances, workers, and a delivery of a lovely new refrigerator). It cooled down considerably (currently 72), but the humidity is brutal (83%), so I end up soaked with sweat whenever I’m out walking (5.5 miles today).
Eventually, it was time to leave for the theatre, so I closed things up here and set off. Whenever I can, I try to walk to the theatre district. It’s only about 40 short blocks and four or five long ones, and I enjoy being out in the city. One place I don’t enjoy anymore is Times Square. I used to love it. There was an energy and excitement to it, but those have been replaced by hoardes of tourists gawking at everything while jamming up the sidewalks, street performers trying to cheat people of their hard-earned cash, and those odious people who dress up in cheap costumes (or take pretty much everything off) and try to bamboozle unsuspecting suckers into taking their pictures, after which they demand money. It’s just awful now, so I try to avoid it when I can. I made pretty good time and made it to 47th Street in a little over an hour. As delightful as New York can be during a crisp autumn or cold winter, it’s a brutal hellhole during a humid summer. I’ll keep walking, though.
The good kind of crowd.
I saw The Band’s Visit tonight, and it may have been the show I was most looking forward to. It won the Tony Award for Best Musical, and I’m a huge fan of its composer, David Yazbek. There’s something about his music that just runs through me emotionally, and this score was no exception. I’m still feeling the after-effects five hours later. My only disappointment was that Katrina Lenk, who won the Tony for Best Actress in a Musical, wasn’t in the show, so I felt a little, well, cheated. The understudy was very good (everyone was), but she wasn’t who I was hoping to see.
I mean, c'mon ...
I figured it was time I got something to eat (I hadn’t had anything since the bagel), so I consulted Yelp and came up with a place called Bareburger, which (I guess) refers to their policy of using organic and locally-sourced food, rather than the state of dress of the staff (this isn’t Times Square, after all). The food itself (a fried chicken sandwich) was good enough, but the service left something to be desired. Because I was dining alone, I sat at the bar, and the bartenders, while friendly, weren’t overly attentive. Combine that with the power behind the bar going out three or four times (knocking out the bar refrigerators and credit card processors, which meant they couldn’t ring up anyone) and I was there a little longer than I wanted to be. It wasn’t unpleasant; it was just loud.
Leaving the restaurant, I decided to walk back (again, it was going to be only an hour or so), figuring if it got too wearing, I could take the subway. By the time things reached that point, though, I was so close to home that it didn’t seem worth it. What was worth it was seeing the seemingly-endless supply of teenaged and twenty-something women who were out for a drunken Friday night. How these ladies can be in such obvious stages of inebriation while remaining upright on those heels in those tiny dresses is one of nature’s wonders. That said, I do not envy their Uber and Lyft drivers who are left with the unpleasant task of cleaning up gallons of vomit and other bodily fluids. On the other hand, given the low opinion of have of the majority of Uber and Lyft drivers, it’s well-deserved.
I finally reached the apartment, opened the windows, broke out the fan, washed my face and neck with a hot washcloth, took part in the cigarette and marijuana smoke the people next door and on the porch here decided to share, and set to writing this, which is where I am now.
Saturday is a two-show day, so I’ll have to figure out a way to kill approximately three hours between them while avoiding the mobs.
How will I do it? Stay tuned.
Comments
Post a Comment