Day Three Post-Date: The Day of Reckoning

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It’s been three days since my date. I have not heard from him since. Day Three in the land of dating is the day of reckoning. The cliché goes that you’re supposed to wait three days after a date before calling again. It’s a bit antiquated, especially in this day of third-appendage cell phones, but some people still swear by it. The games we play. Speaking of games, yes, I’m waiting for him to call me. Yet another artifact of antiquity. Yes, that means I’m hoping he calls me.

3 Reasons Why He Should Call

1. I looked great. With some coaching from Walter, (who says don’t wear jeans on a first date) I decided on a red wrap dress with a pattern that nods to the 70’s. Black boots, jean jacket to make it casual, and then the more risky nude-colored fishnet stockings. I know, just the word “fishnets” make some people cringe and visions of TACKY dance in their heads. My opinion is nude fishnets are actually really subtle and sexy. Especially with a dress that hits just above the knee and boots that hit just below it. That’s just 7 inches of exposed fishnet, that you don’t even notice at first glance because their colored to match your skin. I love them. I think boys do too. Right, Walter??

2. We discovered our families both vacation, and have for the entirety of our lives, in the exact same tiny town on the coast of Maine. This is a town usually no one has ever heard of. It was a remarkable discovery, sparking quite the conversation of deep childhood memories we both share. It was magical really. That’s worth a second date to me right there. I’d be happy to just sit and talk about New Harbor, Maine all night.

3. We met for beers, then we went across the street to an oyster bar. They had clams and oysters on the menu, neither of us had tried clams on the half shell before. So we opted for culinary adventure and got one order of each. Now it’s easy to see how the conversation of Main came up, right? We were surrounded by seafood, it’s only natural. When we finished our shellfish, which was delightful, we headed out to the streets of the West Village. Here’s where I suggested a walk. The night didn’t feel over. So we took a stroll in Washington Square Park. Standing by the fountain, the arch in the foreground, the ugly construction that’s been there for ages at our backs, he kissed me. Come on, you kissed me by a fountain! For all intents and purposes that warrants a second date, in my book.

3 Reasons Why He Shouldn’t Call

1. Something clicked as I walked from the subway to the bar where we were meeting. Shit! I’m on a date! I haven’t been on a first date in ages! And WHAM, seconds before I arrived, with no time to shake it off, I encountered this wave of nervous energy. I honestly can’t remember the last time I was nervous for a date. So it was kind of a good feeling. But it made me more awkward than I normally am. Like, repeating myself, apologizing for being 10 minutes late and rambling about how I always am late! Hahaha, sorry, it’s genetic, I get it from my mother! I can’t even blame the subway! Don’t you love conversations about tardiness? Awesome. Some times it’s like I embody the New York version of New Girl.

2. So the awkwardness didn’t put me at the top of my game. I knew he had just graduated from law school, but I didn’t know which one. It comes up that it is one in Boston.
“Oh, where’d you go?” I asked.
“In Cambridge,” he replied.
I laughed. “So Harvard. Does Harvard make you guys sign something when you’re admitted? Why does no one just come out and say ‘I went to Harvard.’?”
So he went to Harvard Law. The doubt creeps in my mind, “Am I smart enough for this guy?” A horrible thought to have in your mind on a first date. Especially one where your just kinda off your game to begin with.

3. He gave my butt a squeeze as we kissed by the fountain. Come on dude, this is A. too early to be handsy and B. too public for such a display! Don’t grab my butt on a first date. You went to Harvard, any guy with an ounce of brains should know that’s a stupid move to make.

It’s looking like I’m adding this one to my pile of dead-end dates. Ah well. But you know what? I think it was just what I needed. I had fun on a date. I’m getting back in it again. It’s the process of moving on. Next date, when ever that may be? My game will be back on. I think. I hope.

Opening The Doors, Trumpeting in a First Date

“When should I start dating again?” That is the question.

“Probably not less than a week after writing about how I miss my ex.” That is one answer.

“As soon as a cute guy asks me out.” That is another.

♥

“Am I ready to start dating again?” Perhaps a better question.

“Probably not less than a week after writing about how I miss my ex.” Again, is an answer.

“Let’s find out the hard way!” is another.

Guess which one I choose.

♥♥

I have a date tonight. It feels good to say! I like the way the words feel in my mouth. They’re sweet, refreshing, and smooth, like mango sorbet. A palate cleanser they serve at Indian restaurants to help a mouth move on from a chicken tikka masala dinner. A fresh start of a heart moving on from lost love.

We at an outdoor concert in Brooklyn. Over the soundtrack of a soul-stirring seven-piece brass jam band, we attempted small talk. What’s your name? Where you from? What brought you here? Wailing trumpets demanded mouths oh-so-close to ears, just for a hope of hearing answers. A shouted conversation soon abandoned. We gave up and just danced. Danced just the way I like to, with no regard of any other eyes watching, fancy-free from concerns of “cool”. He twirled me on the dance floor. My skirt went spinning, my heart went spinning, a girlish giggle cartwheeling from my lips.

The next song was a rift on The Doors classic, “Light My Fire”.
“Not my favorite Doors song,” claimed my dance partner, his hand on the small of my back.
“But it’s such a classic!” I cried, “What could you possibly prefer?”
“Oh, I’d say Whisky Bar. But maybe that’s just because I like whiskey,” he smiled.
I grinned. I’d had a gulp of whisky from my friend’s flask but moments before. It coursed its way through my system: warming my belly, clouding my mind, and lubricating my vocal cords.
“‘Show me the way to the next whiskey bar,'” I sang, as we danced to and fro. I paused.
“‘Oh, don’t ask why. Oh, don’t ask why,'” he picked up as I left off, not missing a beat.

I’ve never hoped for someone who finishes my sentences. I dread being so predictable. But someone who finishes my random outbursts of song? That’s long been a dream of mine.

♥♥♥

Ah, the time right before a first date! When hopes are high and logic low! I hardly know him at all, beyond his singing capabilities (and he does have a nice voice). He has the potential for everything and nothing. I’m simultaneously excited and atwitter with trepidation. I’m rusty, it’s been a while since my last first date. I can’t help but remember- I’ve been on many more first date failures than successes. But that doesn’t matter. It’s just a date. One I didn’t plan any aspect of accept my outfit! You can bet I’m wearing heels! Thus, it’s everything I wanted. Perhaps exactly what I needed? I’m not sure, but I’m about to find out.

September 27, 2013May 26, 2016

Other NYCs: The Only Woman Who Can Rock a Banjolele

There are a lot of cool people in this city called New York. However, it can be hard to find them. This is a city notorious for people who look incredible, interesting, and awesome all at once. From a distance. When you get within conversing distance you can just smell the douche simmering below the surface. This brings to mind the “hipster” phenomenon. But sometimes, if you’re lucky, you will meet someone who just embodies incredible, interesting, and awesome inside and out. Sometimes, if you’re even luckier, they will agree to be featured on your blog.

These people usually march to the beat of their own drummer, to go by cliché. To the beat of their own banjolele, to defy cliché. That’s Lilly Vanek for you. A remarkable lady you just can’t wait to know more about as soon as you see her. She has a tattoo of a possum, and she makes it cool. She plays a cross between a banjo and a ukulele, and she makes it cool. Perhaps intimidating from a distance, both because she is 6′ and because, well, you’re worried she’s too cool for you. Within conversing distance though, you’ll discover the most friendly, bubbly, spunky, warm person you could ever hope to find in NYC. That you could ever hope to find featured here, as this week’s Other New York cliché!

Name/prefered pseudonym: Lilly Vanek (or just Lilly)

Borough and neighborhood: Washington Heights, Manhattan

How are you a New York cliché?
I’ve been thinking this question over, and I guess I have been several New York clichés over my time here. When I first moved here at 16, I was the purple haired art school student picking through thrift stores and dragging her cello on the subway. When I came back after a few years of college in Maryland I was the starry eyed girl following some stupid boy who thought he was a rock star. Then, when he wasn’t, there were a few times when I was the girl crying on the train. Then I became the quirky nanny taking care of two mini hipsters while finishing school and pursuing my own musical affinities, writing songs and playing them in bars on an obscure banjo-ukulele hybrid. It’s kind of hard to put myself into any one cliché, but I’m cool with that.

They say no one who lives in New York is actually from New York. Where are you from?
I am actually from Baltimore, Maryland (or Bodymore, Murderland, depending on who you ask). Our claims to fame include John Waters, The Wire, and the fact that Edgar Allen Poe died running drunk and raving mad through our streets. Be it ever so humble.

Bloomberg is banishing you from NYC. You have 24 hours before you have to pack up and leave for ever. How do you spend them?
First of all, since it is Bloomberg we’re talking about, I would spend the day drinking as many giant bottles of soda as I possibly could, in public, while purposely not burning all the calories contained within. But to get to the actual question, I’d travel with my banjolele so I could play and sing along the subways throughout the day. That’s something I’ve yet to do but plan on doing. A lot. So Big Tiny (that’s my banjolele) and I would start out walking through Washington Heights uptown to the Cloisters museum, which is my favorite museum in the city. Tons of beautiful gardens and medieval art and architecture. It is where some of the most beautiful architecture in the city can be found.

Then I’d walk through Washington Heights to Harlem, where there’s more cool architecture. I’m always finding weird old anachronistic houses among the high rises, and I feel like walking is the best possible way to see New York. So then we’d walk down the Upper West side, probably stop by Central Park and then the MoMA. I’d continue down to the village, find as many cheapo thrift stores as possible, then end up at Coney Island, where I’d watch, and then audition for, Sideshows by the Sea Shore. Because if I’m getting kicked out of New York, I may as well run away with the freak show. My fingers are double jointed, and I can touch my tongue to my nose… that’s pretty freaky, right?

What restaurant/bar you keep going back to, even though you’ve been meaning to try a dozen others?
Spain on 13th street between 6th and 7th. It’s incredibly kitschy and weird inside, decorated with Christmas lights at all times and black velvet paintings of conquistadors. The waiters and bartenders are all approximately eight million years old. But the real reason I keep going back: free meatballs. They give you free, delicious meatballs when you buy a drink. It’s beautiful. It renews my hope in humanity.

Favorite pizza place: I know it’s a chain, but I love me some Two Boots. Their pizza is delicious and they have cool art on the walls, often featuring Divine, and I’m pretty sure they have a Divine pizza, too. I am, after all, a Baltimore girl; Divine forever has my heart.

So you live in NYC, but what’s one super-touristy thing you secretly love?
Well, Times Square on a Saturday drives me absolutely bonkers. But that’s where they keep the biggest Forever 21 and they have good sales. A good game to play if you find yourself there with somebody else, is weave in and out of as many tourists as possible, meeting in the middle for a high five whenever you can. I haven’t worked out a points system for this, but I should. Again, to answer the actual question, I have a weakness for food carts. Also whenever I see the Empire State Building from a distance, or the Statue of Liberty from Battery Park, or the Brooklyn Bridge, my heart smiles a little bit and I remember how fucking cool it is that I live here.

Ever had a run-in with a celebrity (A-D List)?
One time I swear I saw H. Jon Benjamin (voice actor, Archer, Bob’s Burgers, etc) in the Two Boots in the village. I wasn’t sure it was him, though, cause he’s a voice actor and all. And I on account of him being such a schlubby little man. I stared at him for a while, but then he started staring back, looking quite alarmed. (I don’t blame him, really, as he was being stared down by a six foot tall woman in red cowboy boots and space tights). I probably could have said “Hey, aren’t you that guy?” But instead I just made like I was really interested in the garbage can.

You totally saw something weird on the subway or street today (you may not have registered it was weird because you are jaded), what did you see?
I sat down with the intention of eating a sandwich, cause I was starving, on a bench on the platform of the 1 train, and there was poop on the floor. Needless to say, I didn’t eat my sandwich. Another time, like two summers ago, a man’s teeth fell out on my foot. I was wearing sandals. It was not great.

What is your favorite fictionalized New York? How does it compare with reality?
The one I had a dream about the other night where I was married to a young Tom Waits and we lived in the Cathedral of Saint John the Divine, except it was made entirely of marshmallows.

Plug something! Be it something you are involved in, your significant other/roommate/cat is involved in, or just something you think is extra-special going on in NYC.
I do know what I want to plug! Music. I have not been writing for very long, just a few months, but I have recorded a solo demo, which is available here: https://lillyvanekstop.bandcamp.com/.

I am also one half of a two girl ukulele band, we are called stops. and are currently on hiatus until my other half returns, in October, from cooking for sailors on a ship in the arctic circle. We will be playing shows, as I have been solo, promoted by Chris Andrews at One Mighty Ugly Backpack productions. Check out One Mighty Ugly Backpack Presents on Facebook. In addition to us, there are a ton of incredibly talented local bands promoted by OMUB, and you can usually see them for free or cheap. Support local music! Yeah! And also me. Support me. I’m great.

Thanks, Lilly, for being this week’s Other NYCs feature! I’m sure I’m not the only one who didn’t know banjoleles even existed before. I loved listening to your demo, and I can’t wait to hear more. I might even stalk you on the subway, once you start performing there. Hope that’s ok!

What do you think of this series? Love it so much you want featured? Come on, why wouldn’t you want to? Don’t be shy, email NewYorkCliche@yahoo.com.

September 25, 2013June 5, 2015

No Shame: Yes I Miss My Ex

I won’t send the cliché “I miss you” text. Seriously, I won’t. I promise. Hold me to that. You have my permission to throw my phone out the nearest window if- actually, let’s raise the stakes. If I go back on this vow, you may go so far as to cut off my fingers. No fingers=no texting ever again. I grant you this right.

Not that I haven’t thought about texting him. Especially when over the weekend there was a party in my apartment and tequila shots were in my belly: perfect conditions for bad decisions. This was the one time I got dangerously close to sending such a disaster. But I refrained, kept my feelings to myself.

Not that I don’t miss him. I do.

I miss him when ever I take the 4 train. Now I associate it with him rather than my first year of commuting hell. I don’t take it often, but when I do, I find myself wondering if he’s on the train.
I miss him when anything in my apartment breaks. He was a man who knew how to fix things, knew how to build things. I miss him when my shelves are unleveled and a cabinet has come off its hinge.
I miss him when anyone says “mozzarella”. He couldn’t help but say it with an Italian accent that I thought was adorable.
I miss him when I lie awake in bed, the morning sun streaming through the curtains. My cat is meowing at the door. I miss letting the cat in and the 3 of us cuddling in bed, talking long after we should have gotten up. He loved my cat and didn’t mind the layer of cat hair that consistently covers my apartment.
I miss him when I see a stranger wearing a t-shirt with his favorite wrestler on it. If it weren’t for him, I’d have absolutely know idea what “CMPunk” even meant, but now I’ll always remembe r.
I miss him when every other man in my life is talking about football, fantasy teams, and how they can’t hang out because they have to watch the game. He had no interest in football. The other day I found myself wondering, Is constantly smoking pot a less attractive hobby than constantly watching football? Yes, yes it is. Still, the question did cross my mind.
I miss him when I see a man with a long ponytail. I can’t help but wonder what his hair looks like now: if he got a proper hair cut, or just left it a cropped mess. I have no idea. (No, there aren’t any pictures on Facebook. Yes, I’ve looked.)
I miss him when I wear the skirt I wore on our first is-this-even-a-date? I remember exactly what I wore, and though I would have denied it at the time, that obviously meant something.

It could be worse. At least I don’t miss the sound of his voice. Or the touch of his hand. I certainly don’t miss his smell.

But it’s been over six weeks now, I know I’m passing the point where it’s socially acceptable to still have feelings for my ex. I’m not savoring these feelings. I’m not clinging on to them in some vain hope we get back together. That’s not happening. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he is not the guy for me. ~~There, I even wrote it down for all the internet to see.~~ His negative qualities and the reasons we don’t belong together are much more prominent in my mind than any positives. Still, he was a huge part of my life for a significant amount of time. Oh yeah, and I loved him.

I don’t let people in easily. I don’t trust people easily. It’s very New York of me. Hell, it took me four months to call the guy my boyfriend! Now, if it takes me four months to stop thinking about him….ugh that will be exhausting. But if I need that much time, okay. I’m granting myself clemency. “Time heals all wounds.” Is there a more truthful cliché?

In the past, it always took me a long time to get over people. I always felt ashamed of this and pretended to have moved on long before I actually had. Of course, this just made everything worse, the process more painful and drawn out. I would think to myself, “He’s over me, so I have to be over him!” I wish it worked that way, wish I could force my feelings. But I’m wise enough now to know I can’t. This time around, I won’t judge myself. I’m not over my ex. Yet. And I don’t care who knows it. This is my process, on my clock.

The best part of this whole thing, something I can say with pride? I can miss him and not care if he misses me. I honestly don’t need that ego boost.

September 23, 2013June 5, 2015

Jazzed About Serving New York City Jury Duty? You Crazy?

“Why so cheerful?” questioned the perplexed man holding my camera, “You getting your divorce settled today or something?”

This was the only explanation he could muster for the smile on my face. What other reason could I possibly have to request my picture be captured in front of the New York County Courthouse at 9AM?

Positively tickled, I responded, “Yeah, or something! Thank you!”
I retrieved my camera, pushed my sunglasses up on my head, and laughed the whole way up the steps of 60 Centre Street.

The morning had started with swears rather than smiles.

“Fuck. I can’t believe I have fucking Jury Duty today,” I groaned to my cat and I forced myself out of bed. I grumbled all the way to the bathroom, “It’s going to be the worst.” Thoughts of WHY and UGH and INSUFFERABLE lathered up inside me as I shampooed my hair. I brewed my morning tea, adding a spoonful of honey, but nothing tasted sweet this morning. I sipped the bitterness and shuffled to my closet. Radiating crankiness, I stood and faced the daily dilemma: What to wear?

What do I wear to Jury Duty?

Liz Lemon suited up as Princess Leia, Carrie Bradshaw wore questionable cover-alls, how is a New York Cliché to dress? It was a daunting decision, one that could easily affect the likelihood I’d have to serve. I considered obvious choices: the lunatic-look, the hippy-hyper-liberal, the radical-punk-rocker. Then in the back of my closet, I saw a dress I hadn’t worn in months, and everything changed.

jurydutyCarrie — “I feel terrible but I don’t think I can serve jury duty today. You see, I work for myself as a freelance writer and no one can cover for me.” – Carrie Bradshaw via

jurydutyLizLemon — “I really don’t think it’s fair for me to be on a jury since I’m a hologram.” -Liz Lemon via

I call it my Rainbow Bright Dress. I brought it one summer’s day when I walked into a thrift store post-happy hour. It’s the only item of clothing I have ever purchased while intoxicated. It is more colorful than a Lisa Frank notebook, more twee than a Zooey Deschanel-Taylor Swift love-child. While not particularly flattering, the dress is CHEERY in fabric form. It’s impossible to be cranky while wearing it. [See photo at top!]

I put on the dress and decided that to make the most of the day, I’d have to throw away cliché. See, every one hates Jury Duty. Everyone bitches and moans about it. Everyone tries to get out of serving. What if I showed up happy, gleeful, excited about the possibility of serving, eager to at least share my experience, say, on my blog? No one would know what to make of it! They would never guess this was a front to get out of Jury Duty. Everyone would really think I was a total wacko.

This point was immediately proven by the man I asked to take my picture outside the courthouse. No sane person can be happy about Jury Duty, it does not compute. I pranced up the steps and joined the line of people waiting to get through security. Instead of fuming about the wait, I admired the art decorating the ceilings and walls of the courthouse.

A security guard yelled at me for talking pictures and confiscated my camera. Instead of peeved, I smiled at him, “So sorry sir, I didn’t know! No problem, I’ll pick up my camera when I leave! You have a nice day!” He looked at me like I was insane! Haha, success! I was fully committed to my sunshine-and-rainbows demeanor. Bring on your worst, Jury Duty, for I will have a positive day, dammit, and you will think I’m crazy for it!

Oh, New York City Jury Duty brought it. The film they show you at the beginning is truly demoralizing. It made me want to gauge my eyes out. The only way I kept a smile on my face was to laugh out how poorly it was done. It was as if the director’s intent was to make everyone detest the experience. Why, Walter Cohen, why? Yes, Walter Cohen, I wrote down your name as it rolled in the credits! I wanted to remember the man responsible for directing such a reprehensible excuse for an informational video! How the hell did they chose you? Have you worked since? Are you ashamed of yourself for submitting millions of New Yorkers to your monstrosity?

After the film, we just sat around. There was free wifi, I had my laptop and head phones. I’ve spent countless mornings similarly, on my computer at home. At 12:30PM a woman got on the microphone and announced we were all released. I couldn’t believe it! It was too good to be true! But true it was!

I waltzed out of Jury Duty barely 3.5 hours after I waltzed in. I can’t help but consider it a testament to the power of positive thinking. I put a smile on my face and was granted a New York miracle. The best part? Now I don’t have to worry about Jury Duty for six years!

Actually, that’s not the best part. The best part is that right after I was released, I received a call from one of my best friends from childhood. She told me she was at the airport, on a layover in the city for just 6 hours. Suddenly I had the afternoon free to spend with her! We spent it exploring the Highline. Who ever would guess the date of their Jury Summons would end up so well?

September 20, 2013May 26, 2016

The Dawn of iPhone Insanity

Where were you at 5AM this morning?

The majority of you will say “Asleep. ~~Duh.~~”
Jealous.

The party girls and playboys present will say, “Stumbling home.”
Well now, aren’t you fabulous.

Yours truly will say, “On 5th Avenue, joining hundreds of people queued in a massive line circumferencing an entire square block.”

Arriving at dawn, we waited hours for the release of the new iPhone 5s/5c.

Those of you who know me personally may be thinking, FINALLY.

…..I have a confession to make….

I’ve claimed for years to be a New York Cliché, the New York Cliché, really. But it’s all been a facade! A lie! There is one piece of the puzzle so remarkably glaring that I have no business claiming such a title! Dear readers, I hope you’ll forgive me after I share with you this deep, dark secret…

Crumbs, this is embarrassing. Okay, okay, here goes:

I don’t own a smart phone. I never have.

She calls herself a blogger AND a New York Cliché and she DOESN’T HAVE A SMART PHONE!? IMPOSTOR! WHERE’S MY METAPHORICAL PITCHFORK SO I CAN CHASE HER OUT OF THE INTERWEBS?

I know! I know! It’s bizarre! Unthinkable! Would you have ever guessed I’m such a big weirdo? Go ahead, ostracize me, I deserve it!

Or do I? Did all this change today? Am I now one of the first to own the fancy pants 5s? Should you put the pitchfork down?

No dear readers, I can not claim this. I’m still a freak with an archaic phone. A luddite wolf wearing modern sheep’s clothing. Keep that pitchfork in one hand and get a burning torch for the other.

I worked an event this morning at dawn. For a company taking advantage of the captive audience of Apple enthusiasts camping out around the flagship store. That’s all. I pretended to be one myself. Oh, the forgeries I commit for day jobs.

Before you burn down my blog, know that I will likely succumb soon. The lure of a smartphone and all the convenience is stronger than ever:

It would make me a better blogger.
It would make me more popular.
It would make me a better lover.

Someday I’ll no longer be able to resist. Likely someday soon.

Until then, I’m with Louis CK on this.

…..Can we still be friends? Please?

September 18, 2013October 23, 2014

Other NYCs: The Hyper-Active Theatre Kid

I have a lot of energy. It’s a gift, either from nature or from life-choices, I couldn’t tell you which. I basically make my living because of it. I can run around like a crazy maid or pirate for nine hours, hardly stopping for breath. I can stand on my feet handing out sample s or talking about cars all day and remain engaging. It’s rare that I find someone with energy that matches mine. Rarer still is when I find someone’s who exceeds mine.

My friend Scott is such a man. Dynamic, chatty, lively, Scott is a true embodiment of “bouncing off the walls”. It’s awesome, in the true sense of the word- awe inspiring. Other people with this kind of energy may come off as manic, off-putting. Scott however, carries it with what I can only describe as grace. Personable and witty as hell, he has you dying to keep up with him. When I have pleasure of performing interactive theater with him, it truly makes my job a delight. Now he’s here to delight my blog as this week’s featured Other New York cliché!

Name/prefered pseudonym: Scott Lilly – Scott/Scottie/Scooter/’Hey you”.

Borough and neighborhood: Hamilton Heights, Harlem.

How are you a New York cliché?
I’m that hyper-active theatre kid from that small Southern town that came up to the Big Apple to be a Broadway star…is there a bigger New York cliché than that?

They say no one who lives in New York is actually from New York. Where are you from?
I’m from Asheboro, North Carolina (no, not the cool, college hippie town, Asheville, AsheBORO), home of the NC Zoo…oh, and I think they’ve got a Walmart now, too!

Bloomberg is banishing you from NYC. You have 24 hours before you have to pack up and leave for ever. How do you spend them?
You mean besides wracking my brain for a logical reason as to how I could have offended Bloomberg so completely? Assuming I get to start with the sunrise, I’d be sure to get up early enough to grab some lox and coffee from my favorite local deli and watch the sun come up over the skyline from my rooftop, after which I’d make my way downtown through all my favorite spots in Central Park, stopping on the West Side to walk through my favorite Museum…the one with the giant whale.

Then I’d trek down to the Village to soak up as much unconventional conventionality as possible before heading up to Midtown to try to hit up any Broadway show I could wrangle tickets for. After what would be, I’m sure, an emotionally moving evening of theatre, I’d make my way over to Restaurant Row with as many friends in tow as possible, and work my way down and back, savoring as wide a palate of culinary and liquid delights that the Big Apple has to offer…and what my wallet can manage.

What restaurant/bar you keep going back to, even though you’ve been meaning to try a dozen others?
I developed quite a personal and complex history with the Saigon Grill on 90th and Amsterdam, but it recently closed, so I guess it’s time to finally start looking into those neglected dozen.

Favorite pizza place: There’s this wonderful hole-in-the-wall pizza place down in the West Village whose name escapes me. I’ve only been there twice and can never find it when I’m looking for it. It’s like the Brigadoon pizza place of NYC. Just another urban mystery, I suppose, but if you find it, you won’t regret grabbing a slice!

So you live in NYC, but what’s one super-touristy thing you secretly love?
I am a museum-junkie. I’ve never had a problem seeing the same collection over and over again. Also, I’m pretty fond of riding the Staten Island Ferry for no reason at all other than taking in the view.

Ever had a run-in with a celebrity (A-D List)?
I was working at the Time Warner Center at Columbus Circle and was on my 10 minute break and having a serious caffeine-crash. I was rushing down the escalator headed for the nearest Starbucks when I stumbled and fell backwards right into the arms of the poor guy I had just brushed past. I turn around to apologize and low-and-behold, I find myself in the arms of Kevin Klein. He was very nice about it all. If that doesn’t tickle your fancy, remind me to tell you about the time I had jury duty with Michael Kors or the time I did shots with Neil Patrick Harris and Boy George. 😉

You totally saw something weird on the subway or street today (you may not have registered it was weird because you are jaded), what did you see?
Is seeing a drunken Santa Claus throwing up on an elf on the 94th street subway platform at 4pm still considered ‘weird’?

What is your favorite fictionalized New York? How does it compare with reality?
I grew up on all the Golden-Age Kelly/Astaire/Rogers films, which explains a lot, I guess. Coming from a small town, it somehow got instilled into my 5 y/o-head that NYC was this sort of Emerald City-Wonderland that hadn’t changed in the past 5 decades. My perspective changed a bit once I was introduced to the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles movies from the 90’s. Still, after almost a decade living in reality, there’s still quite a bit of fantastical elements in this city, if you know where to look.

Plug something! Be it something you are involved in, your significant other/roommate/cat is involved in, or just something you think is extra-special going on in NYC.
I’m making the transition from professional actor to professional director…and found I’m actually pretty darn good at it. So, you know…if you looking for one… 😉

Thanks, Scott, for bringing back my Other NYCs feature! Can’t wait to see what directorial masterpieces you take on and work with you soon!

What do you think of this series? Love it so much you want featured? Fabulous! Email NewYorkCliche@yahoo.com.