New York City Stoops: A Short-Lived, Tragic Love Affair

New York City stoops call out to me all the time.

There’s something about late summer that makes me long to sit on a perfect New York cliché stoop and talk the twilight hours away. Perhaps on the phone with a far away friend, perhaps with a man who’s walked me home from a date. Perhaps with an ice cream cone in hand, maybe even a glass of wine in a covert cup.

Stoops are the metropolitan porch swing, the veranda of the concrete jungle. I’m obsessed.

My building doesn’t have a proper stoop. It has two stairs up, and that’s it. Barely a step up from sitting on a curb. I never find myself thinking about my dream apartment. I fantasize about my dream stoop. A perfect perch for people watching. A good number of stairs to provide a fair distance from the sidewalk so I can share secrets with out the whole neighborhood hearing. So I can smooch on my stoop with enough time to disengage if someone starts climbing the stairs.

I don’t walt to sound stoop-id…but I find something terribly romantic about New York City stoops.

Is it terrible that I want to befriend this man just so I can sit on his stoop? Fall is just around the corner. I know warm nights are soon to be a thing of the past. Summer is my favorite season, I want to spend every last-minute that I can basking in humidity. Sometimes I want to escape the crowds and the din of the city: the bars, the streets, even the parks. A simple stoop would solve all my problems…

The whole month I’ve experienced major stoop envy. Walking through neighbors on the Upper East Side, in Chelsea, even my neighborhood- Hamilton Heights, and taking pictures of beautiful stoops. Residents must have thought I was a creep, perhaps a paparazzi (are they ever women?).

Last week everything changed. My stoop-lusting was brought to a swift and immediate halt.

In the middle of the night I was jolted awake by the sound of three rapid sounds. BANG BANG BANG! Must be a car back firing was the conclusion my sleep clouded mind jumped to. No big deal. Time to go back to sleep.

But I couldn’t go back to sleep. People began shouting. I heard a woman’s voice repeating a horrified “Oh my God! Oh my God!” and the smack of her shoes as she ran down the side-walk below my window. My window, five stories up from the street. High enough that I didn’t feel unsafe, even as it became very clear that I had heard gun shots. Panicked voices cried out and then a groan of agony echoed down the city block. Someone was hurt. Should I call some one? Did I need to do something? A moment after the consideration, sirens joined the cacophony of noises. My roommates and I shut our windows, blocking out the scene. We stood in our pajamas, shaken.

A man was shot and killed on our street, a mere five doors down from us. He had been sitting on his stoop at 2AM in the morning. It’s the worst kind of New York cliché. No one knows the story behind the murder, we assume drug activity.

It’s strange. Since this incident, I do not feel unsafe in my home. I have no plan to move to a different neighborhood. However, I am a bit more cautious at night. Additionally, my fierce infatuation with stoops has turned to ambivalence. Faster than summer turns to fall.

Let me leave you with a picture of beautiful dogs sitting on a stoop.

First Date Part 3: This Date Just Got Disgusting(ly Cute)

This is Part 3, the final part, of this Epic First Date. Click for Part 1 and Part 2

It’s all been fun and games up to this point. Fun and margaritas and roller coasters and sand castles, if you want to be specific.

Nothing stays fun and games forever.

When we last left the story of this first date, I was riding piggyback down to the shore line of Coney Island. That was just a gate way. This date’s about to get gross, guys. Dear readers, shit is about to get so disgustingly cute it might make you want to hurl. You’ve been warned.

Maybe you saw this coming, maybe you were hoping for it. Hoping we would embody every cliché of a cute couple at the beach. In that case, we exceeded expectations.

Wading in to the water so I was holding my dress exactly like Miley here (help, I’m comparing myself to Miley Cyrus).
Giggling while he splashed me with handfuls of water. Yep, being chased. Yep, giggling and screaming, “You better not throw me in!” I could see him consider it. Did he pick me up and throw me in the water?

No. He did not. He’s not an idiot! Yay! This was still a first date!

I maintained some level of dryness. My date however, embraced the waves. He got soaked, drenched, to the point where he said “fuck it!” and went swimming in his Nantucket Red chino shorts. Thus proving he’s more spontaneous than I (and less prone to being freezing no matter what time of year it is).

He came back to dry land and we stood on the sand, the waves lapping our feet, looking out at the Atlantic. I was overwhelmed. I wanted to kiss him, wet clothes and all. I didn’t consider wanting him to kiss me first (something I’ve done before). Nor did I think “I should kiss him now, it’ll make for a better story” (I don’t manipulate my life like that). I didn’t even think, “I wonder if he wants to kiss me.”

Nah, I didn’t think. I just kissed.

couplebeachkiss — Like this (so cliché) but with about 500 people all around us. via

Remember how crowded the beach at Coney Island is? Really not a great place for PDA….Sorry beach goers. Sorry. I really wasn’t thinking. Because I was too busy kissing.

After that, my cute date and I got matching tattoos.

No, I’m not kidding.

Haha, don’t freak out! They were airbrushed tattoos! A pink kitty on my elbow (don’t ask why I chose my elbow) and a black puppy over his heart. “Now we have something to remember this date by- until they wash off in 2-3 days.”

Whattaya think of my tatt? And this elbow shot? Wicked sexy right?

We left Coney Island at sunset. But not before he won me not one, not two, but three shitty carnival stuffed animals. My childhood dreams at last came true. Their name’s are Happy Pig, Melancholy Bunny, and Apathetic Bear.

The trio currently sits on my futon and I have no plans on burning them ever. The man who won them for me? What became of him after this epic 8 hour date? Well, we’ve been on not one, not two, but three dates since. I have no plans of burning him either.

Don’t expect a play by play. Suffice to say, they’ve been pretty great. And the smile that spreads across my face as I type that is enough to make a jaded New Yorker ralph on the subway tracks.

August 21, 2014August 16, 2018

Best First Date (Part 2): Roller Coasters and Coney Island Sand Castle Contest

This is Part 2 of this story. Read Part 1 here.

“How does that saying go? _____ by the seat of your pants?”

“Shit by the seat of your pants?”

“Hahaha! No. That’s not it!”

“Fly? Fly by the seat of your pants?”

“That’s it!”

This was a conversation we had had at brunch. Now we were doing just that. Flying, not shitting- to clarify.

Flying by the seat of our pants.

Flying down the highway, on a spontaneous visit to Coney Island, on this, our very first date.

“I don’t actually really know where this Coney Island Sand Castle Contest is,” I confessed when we arrived at our destination, “I assume if we wander the beach we’ll find it?”

“We’ll find it,” he said, utterly unperturbed. We began the search.

A PErfect NYC Summer Date at Coney Island

A first date at Coney Island allows for some valuable insight into a potential relationship. Questions come up that might otherwise have remained unanswered for months. Questions crucial to the potential compatibility of two people. Example: Do you like roller coasters? “Yes,” I replied, “I do like roller coasters. That said, the anticipation of a roller coaster ride always makes me jumpy. I may clutch you. I will, without fail, scream the whole time.”

“Good. You like roller coasters. We’re going on this one.”

Then we were doing just that. Flying through the air, flying by the seat of the Thunderbolt: Coney Island’s newest ride. It starts with a 90 degree vertical drop. I screamed the whole time. It’s only thanks to years of performing outdoor theater that I didn’t loose my voice by the end. Stepping off the ride, adrenalin coursed through my body. My head was turned upside down but I didn’t even consider the wind spun bird’s nest my hair probably resembled. I was having too much fun to care.

We walked down to the beach and stumbled upon our sand castles almost immediately. Easy as pie. Easy as having fun at the beach on a beautiful summer day.

Coney Island Sand Castle Contest

Some were master pieces sculpted out of sand.

Did you know there are professional sand sculptors? When do you realize that’s your calling?

I’d love to have seen what these guys did on their family Florida vacation at age nine. Was the talent there already?

The amateur attempts were just as fun.

When was the last time you built a sand castle? I can’t even remember!

Okay, I can remember because it was on this date. (The time before that though I have no idea.) We were inspired. We dug into the sand and spent, oh, maybe 3 minutes building.We created a bunch of hand prints in a mound. Very abstract. No, I did not photograph it. Yes, it was fun.

This one was called New York Cliche! (Yeah, by me. No one else called it that.)

Recognize this guy? He’s the Coney Island mascot!

“So the Coney Island Sand Castle Contest is way cooler than I thought it was going to be,” my date said, “I’m really glad we came. I’m having fun. Let’s go down to the water.”

He motioned for me to jump on his back and I did. He ran me piggy back, dodging umbrellas and little tykes with sand in their suits, all the way down to the shore line. I clutched him around the neck and laughed. I felt like I was flying. Flying by the seat of his pants.

There was still more fun to come! Part 3 tomorrow! I told you it was epic!

Now you can find Part 3 here: First Date Part 3: This Date Just Got Disgusting(Ly Cute)

August 20, 2014August 16, 2018

The Best First Date Ever: A Spontaneous Trip to Coney Island (Part 1)

Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve wanted a man to win me a shitty, ridiculous stuffed animal at a carnival.

Why?

Maybe because my mom never let me play carnival games.
Maybe because it’s the epitome of romantic, American cliché.
Maybe because I want something solid and highly flammable to burn if the man later breaks my heart.

What ever the case may be, last Saturday suddenly my dream was well within my grasp…

It wasn’t part of the plan. The plan was a first date (with the guy from my last post): brunch at A Mexican place with outdoor seating. You don’t win stuffed animals at Mexican restaurants, you win frozen margaritas, chips and salsa. A much more practical win, but not exactly the stuff childhood dreams. We sat licking the salt off the rims of our glasses and talked about things you talk about on first dates: family, fears, hopes, dreams. He guessed I was an only child, siting independence and self-confidence rather than spoiled-princess-cliché (good save, buddy). We are both much more frightened of failure than of clowns (so much in common). The question, “why are you still single?” was one left unasked (phew).

Conversation flowed easily on both sides. He’s the sort of person who puts people at ease. Until you end a sentence with a preposition. Then he corrects your grammar. But- yeah I’ll start a sentence with a conjunction, suck it grammar- even as he revealed Grammar Nazi tenancies, he some how never seemed pretentious. No easy feat, I was impressed.

“What are you doing the rest of the day?” he asked.

“Going to Coney Island to see sand castles,” I replied.

“Seriously?” he laughed.

“Yeah! There’s a sand castle festival this weekend. Maybe I’ll blog about it.”

“Are you going by yourself?”

“Yes,” I said, “Wanna come?

The next thing I knew, we were sitting in an Uber (he balked at my original plan of taking the subway and I was more than happy to for go an hour on the D train) on the way to Coney Island. A place well known for carnival games with many chances to win shitty stuffed animal prizes…

This date suddenly became an epic Coney Island date.

How epic?

I’ll tell you tomorrow!

Find Part 2 here: Best First Date (Part 2): Roller Coasters and Coney Island Sand Castle Contest

August 18, 2014May 26, 2016

I Say Yes to Day Drinking During a Work Day

Three things I wish to always say yes to:

The call of a sunny day.
Drinks with charming strangers.
Only in New York experiences.

It was the Thursday afternoon of a long week, one spent working behind a desk. At 3PM I couldn’t take it any more. The only way I’d make it through Friday was if I left my cubicle immediately. So I did. I grabbed a mango-banana-spinach smoothie from the cart outside the office and decided to walk around the block. Sun shining down from the clear blue sky, it was a beautiful late summer day. I sipped up vitamin C, soaked up vitamin D, and smiled at how much better I felt instantly.

I walked down Lexington Avenue, lost in my own little introverted world of if-my-lunch-is-this-healthy-I-can-totally-have-ice-cream-for-dinner and how-breathtaking-does-the Chrysler-Building-look-always? Suddenly my daydreaming was interrupted.

“Hey, do you want to come get a drink with us?”

The question came from two guys walking past me on the street. They were cute, age appropriate, nice-looking fellas dressed in checkered button ups and chino pants (I would ask them later- “Did you guys coordinate your outfits?”). They were jovial, smiling, they didn’t seem threatening or crazy.

Still, my initial response was to say no.

No, I can’t get a drink with you, I must go back to the office! But…I didn’t really, I could take an hour for lunch if I wanted to.
No, I can’t, I don’t know you guys! But…I could sit in a bar in a public place and get to know you guys…
No, I can’t, I’m wearing my glasses! Yeah! How could you possibly stop me on the street when I’m wearing my glasses? I don’t look cute in my glasses! Is this a trick?

MaryLaneglasses — A rare photograph of me in my glasses. See? Hideous. (note: I’m both kidding & mocking myself for feeling self conscious.)

It wasn’t a trick. They were inviting me and all four of my eyes.

So I said yes.

Yes! Because all my excuses were kinda lame and I especially need to get over worrying how I look when I wear my glasses.
Yes! Because where else but NYC does this sort of thing happen?
Yes! Because who am I to turn down something that might, at the least, be a good story?

I said yes and the next thing I knew I was sitting on a bar stool, sandwiched between two tall men in matching outfits. One was blond, the other brunette.

“We’re not gay, you know. In case you’re wondering.”
“I know. I could tell by your shoes.” #newyorkcliche

They were terribly charismatic, and probably already a bit drunk when I met them.

“You have to get the Budweiser here. I highly recommend it,” said the brunette.
“Well, with that kind of recommendation, how can I say no?” I laughed.

The next thing I knew, the three of us each had a bottle of Budweiser in front of us.

“You know what I want? A Bloody Mary,” said the blond.
“Okay, we’re getting three Bloody Marys,” said the brunette.
“Whoa guys! I can’t drink this much!” I said.

The next thing I knew, there was a Budweiser, a Bloody Mary, and a shot of whiskey in front of me.

They both worked in sales.

You try saying no to doing shots with two guys who work in sales in Manhattan. Especially when the job you have to return to is a temp one…
This shot will give me an opportunity to actually use my BA! I studied acting so I can hide the fact I’m slightly buzzed as I sit behind a desk answering emails!

“We’re taking the afternoon off work. You should join us. We’re getting steak dinner.”
“No. I can’t.”

Now I said no without hesitation. An hour for lunch and returning with a slight buzz was one thing. No one would notice or care. Ditching my job completely? I’m not entirely irresponsible.

“Come on. I’ll write an excuse note to your boss.”

And he did.

By the time my hour lunch break was up, I had a slight buzz, an excuse note for the ages, and a date set for Saturday.

I went back to work where no one noticed anything out of the ordinary. On the outside I was stoic. On the inside I was giggling. What a funny, random encounter with two ridiculous guys. I don’t think I’ve ever laughed that much with two strangers. (Don’t worry, I didn’t actually finish my 3 drinks.) It was an excellent reminder to open myself up to possibilities. Especially because my date on Saturday? It was great. Maybe I’ll even tell you how great later this week…

Thank you for reading. If you liked this post, please consider sharing it.
And if you follow me on Twitter/Facebook/Instagram I ♥ you as much as I ♥ NY!

August 14, 2014March 4, 2016

Governor’s Island: Always an NYC Summer Adventure

Oh Governor’s Island, you’re the best. You’re the perfect time-crunch NYC get-away. There you are, a mere five minute boat ride from the southern tip of Manhattan. You’re so accessible and yet you’re a different world. NYC loves you- you are open space, recreation and relaxation.

I spent my Saturday on Governor’s Island. I went with my two friends, Rose and Lilly. We had no plan, no agenda. We knew we could get on a ferry, sail over, and wander until we found fun. This couldn’t have been a safer assumption. We had a fantastic day filled with hammocks, ice cream, mini golf, sculptures, tree houses, civil war reenactments. Go to this Island any day of the week and you’ll happen upon something special. I promise.

The ferry ride alone is worth the trip!

IMG_0954[1] — The incredible view from the ferry.

This year they’ve opened an entire new section to the public. It’s full of black-eyed susans lined paths perfect for wandering.

hammock grove governors island — The cute older couple walking in front of us.

governor's island freedom tower — Me and my boyfriend, New York City! My boyfriend has the best looking Freedom Tower, don’t ya agree?

You’ll happen upon a baseball field and most exciting- the Hammock Grove! Some day in the future the trees will tower above and bathe the hammocks in dappled sunlight. But for now it’s a vitamin D concentration!

gov island hammock grove — But we got lucky! Lilly and I!

At one time Governor’s Island was an army base. Hundreds of military personnel and families called it home. Now no one is allowed to live there. No one! It’s full of abandoned houses that in the summer time turn into boutiques and art galleries.

It was Civil War History weekend! During the war, troupes were stationed here. Now reenactors invade for one weekend to give us a taste of history.

governor's island civil war canon — You should’ve seen how long it took to prepare this canon!

I’m 28 years old and until this weekend I’d never played mini golf. Can you believe it? Well all that changed thanks to Figment NYC on Governor’s Island! Figment NYC is a free participatory art event that is 100% volunteer-powered. As part of their experience this season, Figment NYC has set up mini golf and other art sculptures in the great field of the island. Each mini golf par was hand made by an artist, featuring a NYC theme or political issue.

figment nyc mini golf — Lilly and Rose gearing up for mini golf. (Yes, that’s a giraffe statue in the background!)

governors island mini golf — My first thwack at mini golf! On every one’s favorite New York cliche- pizza!

figment nyc mini golf king kong — Mini golf team! That is a King Kong with Chris Christie’s face if you’re wondering!

Mini golf is a sport, right? After such exhilarating exercise we needed ice cream. The selection of food trucks on Governor’s Island does not disappoint. Our favorite was Brooklyn Soda Works with the fanciest, most refreshing sodas you’ll ever taste made from cold-pressed juices like Watermelon- Tarragon and Apple-Ginger.

But wait, there’s more! Figment also has an amazing tree house!

An interactive giraffe (you can draw on him) sculpture!

Cloud palace similar to last year– a canopy made of cups!

Have I convinced you that you must visit Governor’s Island? You still have time! It’s only open until September 28th. It’s open 7 days a week, the ferry is 2 dollars round trip (if you go on a weekend before noon the ferry is free).
If you go this weekend, you can check out the Jazz Age Lawn Party– I went back in June and you’ll never find an event more nifty! I’m telling ya, it’s beyond the bee’s knees!

Governor’s Island is such an NYC treasure, every one should go. I hope to make one more trip before the season ends!

goivernor's island phone are — Call me (or leave a comment) if you have any questions about visiting!

August 11, 2014June 5, 2015

So Many Laughs, So Many Tears: RIP Robin Williams

I remember the first time I ever saw my dad cry.

I was six years old and we were sitting in the beautiful Alhambra movie theater on Polk Street in San Francisco. This was a single run movie theater, one of the last. It had red velvet seats, a glorious chandelier, and an ornate ceiling. It was magnificent, the height of sophistication to my young eyes. It was at this theater that I saw my first movie, The Little Mermaid, followed by all of the films of the “Disney Renaissance”.

I was six years old, I was sitting in the Alhambra Theater with my dad, we were watching Disney’s newest film. I was excited because I was out with my dad! Because we were seeing a movie! Because red velvet seats! Because giant screen! It could’ve been a film on par with Home on the Range and I would have loved it. But my dad was just as excited as I was. He had read the reviews, he knew this was something special.

The film was Disney’s Aladdin. The magic! The lush animation! The musical songs! I was mesmerized, transfixed, nothing could pry my eyes away from the screen! That is until I heard a sound I had never heard before coming from the seat next to me. There my father sat, bathed in the changing colors reflecting from the movie screen, with tears streaming down his face. But he was laughing at the same time! Laughing and crying, I’d never seen anything like it before! He was laughing so hard he could barely breathe much less see his daughter staring at him with a worried expression. My first instinct was fear- what was going on? Was my daddy ok? I studied his face and wrapped my six-year old mind around this expression of pure joy.

I thought Aladdin was funny, I laughed countless times while in that theater. But my father really grasped the comic genius of the Genie, the performance which made the movie spectacular, for both adults and children. Robin Williams made my father laugh harder than I’d ever seen him laugh before. Easily more than I have ever seen him laugh since.

That was the first time I was ever exposed to the brilliance and comedic genius of Robin Williams. He was the first celebrity I could ever identify by name. He was the first actor I ever called my favorite. He was my neighbor, he called San Francisco home too. In 5th grade when I decided I wanted to be an actor when I grew up, a substantial part of that was thanks to the influence of Robin Williams. He brought people joy. That was what I saw on my father’s face at the Alhambra movie theater. The kind of joy that makes you forget everything else and dwell in pure happiness for a fleeting moment. I wanted to make people feel something like that some day.

This evening I was on Facebook when the press release was issued. Suddenly Robin William’s name was trending. The first mention I saw, I held my breath. You can’t emit a sob while holding your breath. When I heard what had happened, oh boy. My heart broke.

He brought so much joy to the world. He inspired countless numbers of people. His immense talent will live on in his great body of work. His legacy perpetuated by all the laughs he’ll bestow on generations to come. Not just laughs. The second time I saw my father cry was while watching Mrs. Doubtfire. William’s speech in the court room near the film’s end moved my father to tears. Not from laughter this time. The actor’s heart-wrenching portrayal of broken-hearted man who loves his family more than anything else in the world was so vivid and affecting, it moved my father to tears.

My father doesn’t have Facebook. He is rarely on the computer in the evenings. In all likelihood my dad still lives in a world of blissful ignorance, where Robin Williams is alive and well with great performances still to come. He could live in that world for one more night until he sees the morning paper. Or I could give him a call, become the bearer of bad news. We live on opposite sides of the country (and he’s too stubborn to bother with Skype), I won’t be able to see his face. But considering the times I have already seen Robin Williams make my dad cry, I will imagine the tears leaking from his eyes. This time I won’t be too young to understand. Oh Robin Williams, you may very well be the reason my dad and I cry together for the first time.

Rest In Peace Robin Williams. You’ll always hold a special place in my heart.