Tag Archives: travel

In the Bowels of the Beast: The New York City Subway

subway trash

subway trash

To enter the New York Subway system is to leave postcard New York City and experience its bowels, a system of interconnected tunnels that merge and gape and fill with garbage and rats and the ashes of broken dreams.

What could be easier than trying to get from point A to point B? What could be simpler than just following the train line with your finger until you land on what looks like Canal St. and say, “Looks like we’ll need to transfer to the J train there and then get off at Melrose.”

What could be simpler? What could be more difficult?

Because you have no idea that there is a vast sea of information about the subway system that you don’t know. In fact, everything you don’t know about getting from point A to point B using the subway would fill entire tomes. Encyclopedias could be written on how to do the very thing you think you’re about to do, and there would still be more to say.

Because you think you’re about to go from point A to point B, but really you’re not even at point A. You’re at point 1, and taking the train you think you need to take will get you to point D.3, which would be okay except it’s the weekend and the train isn’t running at all. So you’ll have to get from point D.3 to point 72, and then take a courtesy shuttle to point E (which is the closest you’ve gotten and you just consider walking at this point).

But you wait it out at the platform for 20 minutes until you realize that you’re heading in the wrong direction and you need to go Uptown not Downtown and as you run up the stairs and almost slip and fall in a puddle of subway water leaking from some godforsaken place in the ceiling (which is really just the floor of the previous level), you see your Uptown train departing and you sigh in despair. It’s 2:30 a.m. and your feet are screaming and you have no book to read.

So you wait it out at point E for the right train and watch the rats and when the right train comes and you go one stop and it’s clear you’re heading in the correct direction you thank God and realize finally that this exercise is not one in knowledge – not at your level.

It’s an exercise in faith and patience and belief in a higher power. It’s about the stupid, idiotic, blind hope that if you try at something for long enough, and even if you make gigantic embarrassing errors along the way, you’ll still get to where you need to go, and the trains won’t stop running.

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Where to Find the Man You Think You’re Looking For

Looking for love

Looking for love

Being single is awesome. There’s nothing better than the astronaut-like freedom of living life solo.

That being said, it’s nice to be with someone too. Relationships are the meaty part of life, and it can get boring out there in space without someone to inconvenience you and add layers of complication and richness to your life.

I’ve done some traveling this summer and have seen men of all different stripes and beard sizes. If you’re bold enough to think you know what you want and go out there and get it, I’ve compiled a very incomplete list of the different kinds of men and where you can find them. So when you’re ready to tie yourself down, you know where to get the man you think you’re looking for. Just remember, you probably don’t know exactly what you want. Also, this list is not comprehensive.

Flannel-shirt wearing meat-eaters with loud voices and future possessors of a beer gut: Chicago, Black Mountain (NC), some neighborhoods in Boston, your hometown

Fashion-oriented, well-groomed men with a cultivated taste in books, music and food: New York City, San Francisco (some parts) (Warning: these kinds of men spend too much money)

Men that say they love you and then leave you for someone who is the complete opposite of you: Eastern seaboard

Men who wear camouflage and wolf t-shirts without a sense of irony and carry a rifle in their truck: Asheville, NC

Long-haired hippie types who find no value in bathing, automatically think dirty things are more authentic, and know the location of every coffee shop in a 2 mile radius: Allston/Brighton, Oakland, Brooklyn

Backwards baseball cap wearing men with poorly designed tattoos who would rather blow $60 at a sporting event on hotdogs than go to a museum: everywhere

Thin armed software engineers who are “working on their facial hair” and love puns way too much to be sane: San Francisco and New York City (much smaller population)

Cross fit fanatics that work 70 hour weeks wearing blue dress shirts and khakis and party pretty hard on the weekends: Everywhere, but especially NYC

Men who not only make you laugh but will also laugh at your jokes: anywhere except the financial district of any city. Also, avoid self-righteous places like specialty bookstores and some religious institutions

Gentlemen with wild beards, a penchant for soft leather, country music and drinking whiskey outdoors: Nashville

Gentlemen with wild beards, a penchant for vegan food, bluegrass music and drinking whiskey outdoors: Asheville

The tall, broad-shouldered, kind-hearted, dimple-faced, aw shucks attituded man of your dreams: Your dreams

Human man that you will actually fall for “when you least expect it:” the last place you look

So there you have it – now go out there and get it!

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Eating Flesh with All the Other New Yorkers in Mordor

SoHo fashion ghetto

SoHo fashion ghetto

I’m in NYC now, the Chobani cafe in SoHo to be exact. Everyone here is beautiful. Many people have shopping bags and are wearing patterned clothing that is expertly mixed. Also, since when does Chobani have a brick and mortar store where I can buy a $2.50 coffee or get yogurt creations? It’s a crazy world.

I’m in a fashion ghetto. There are designer stores as far as the eye can see, and everything except the trash on the ground screams I’m not good enough. Even the pigeons look groomed. Thank God I wore all black today. Maybe people will think I’m making a fashion statement and not just wearing the top layer of my backpack. Also, since when do I care what people think? New York is changing me.

If you ever wonder where all the attractive people in your hometown have gone, they are either in California or NYC. There are too many people here to fall in love with. My heart can’t take it. But could I date a man who spent more time thinking about his appearance than I do? Could I date a man wrapped up in his Warby Parkers and the New York lifestyle? Is that what I want for the children?

When I got in last night, the friend I’m staying with in Brooklyn told me that New York City is Mordor, that the people who inhabit Mordor are orcs, and that orcs eat human flesh. We are human flesh eaters.

San Francisco is too shiny, I said. I need something dirtier.

New York is the grossest place on earth, he said.

Good, I said.

He had to leave at 4:30 this morning for work at the cafe and gave me directions to the subway. It’s just around the corner, he said. The vagrants will help you find it, he said.

Good, I said. In the morning, I remarked on just how much his neighborhood reminded me of Cairo.

I sat today on the High Line – the former above-ground railway turned into walking path/garden/park – and read the book I bought in Capitol Hill. It’s called “Cowboys are My Weakness.” It’s a collection of short stories about women who fall for burly, hunty, meaty, cowboy type men and are invariably hurt by them. It’s not exactly feminist literature, but Chobani isn’t exactly a coffee shop. Sue me.

In one of the stories, a woman flies to New York to meet up with a man her father knows. He plays a Texan cowboy in a soap opera. They kind of fall in love in Chelsea. I’ll be in Chelsea tomorrow night.

Cowboy, if you’re out there, meet me tomorrow at UCB. If you’re the one for me, you’ll know what that means.

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How an Overachieving Work Monger Learned the Benefit of a Good Nap

staged napping photo

staged napping photo

I’m staying at a friend’s co-op which is unsurprisingly full of long haired hippie types with slow eyed dreams. Despite the fact I’m also pursuing an “alternative” career as opposed to something in office dronery, I’m still skeptical of those who dream of nothing more than working on a farm for six months out of the year and going south to roost with the birds come October.

Where’s the ambition? Where’s the love of early mornings and hard work? Where’s the drive to produce every single moment of the day and have a list of goals hanging from the wall and over your head that you must accomplish or suffer failure?

To me, even travel can and should be considered work, which I love. If I’m successful at the work of travel, I go out and see a great many things, write a good many blog posts and thoughts, draw a picture, talk to a stranger and spend little money. I fail by staying in bed and being lazy. Being lazy must be avoided at all costs.

I’ve always felt righteous about my overbearing work ethic, which has often stressed me out and caused me to spend too much time working on things that didn’t matter as opposed to relaxing with friends. In fact, I hate the very word relax. It offends me. I don’t want to relax. I want to learn, to work, to be productive, to produce, to experience, etc. etc. It’s exhausting.

When one of these hippie types pulled out a book two days ago called “How to be Idle,” by Tom Hodgkinson, I nearly vomited in my quinoa. Could there be anything more disgusting than a book dedicated to laziness and encouraging these kinds of people who needed nothing more than a swift kick in the ass? I scoffed at the very idea of it.

Then, minutes later, I picked it up. I started reading the first chapter “8 a.m.: Waking up is hard to do.” And within a couple more minutes I was hooked. I saw my life and culture in a completely different light. The emphasis on productivity hasn’t served me but my corporate overlords. Busyness is a cult that degrades our quality of life, our freedom, and the ability to reflect on and live contemplative existences.

Though I don’t agree with Hodgkinson completely on everything about the idler lifestyle, I did suddenly realize that my relentless focus on production is not productive. Boom. It’s as simple as that.

I’ve not finished the book, but it has been interesting to hear this man’s thoughts on how our culture of work conspires to keep us chained to our desks, away from home, and most of all, to keep us from thinking.

In honor of my newfound appreciate for idleness, I took a nap and spent five hours today in a cafe merely reflecting. It was certainly time well spent.

Here are some of my favorite quotes from the book so far: 

On working long hours and doing nothing: 

“After all, aren’t modern companies always saying how much they value creativity and innovation? How much they need ideas? Perhaps the truth is rather sadder, that they actually value steadfastness, application and your bum being on your revolving seat for as many hours in the day as you can stand.”

On the culture that rejects illness and taking any time off for it: 

“Drug companies make vast profits out of magic beans which promise to deliver us from torment and return us to the desk.”

On napping: 

“Don’t think that you will be doing less work because you sleep during the day. That’s a foolish notion held by people who have no imagination. You will be able to accomplish more.” – Winston Churchill

“Employers would rather you put in four hours of sitting and accomplishing nothing than an hour’s nap, clothes or otherwise, followed by three hours of productive toil.”

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Everything I Need to Know about Life, I Learned from the Overnight Megabus Trip from Washington D.C. to Boston

Megabus

Megabus

1. Happiness is a choice. You can either spend your 8 hours wallowing in self pity and regret, or spend your 8 hours thinking about coffee and the possibilities of the future.

2. Get work done and don’t procrastinate. Because you never know when you’ll be able to blog, wash your face or brush your teeth again.

3. Every moment can hold something special. The journey is not the destination, but it’s not nothing either, so take advantage of those miles in the middle of nowhere.

4. Don’t give up. Just after you’ve tried every possible sleep position, you just might stumble upon the one that will allow you to rest longer than thirty minutes.

5. People make life incredible. Nothing beats seeing the smiling face of a friend in the wee hours of the morning in a city you love after 8 hours of purgatory.

6. Assume nothing. The person behind you may have terrible taste in music, but they might be going through a hard time in life and need the crappy music to get them through. You don’t know.

7. Baggage sucks. The less you have, the better. That goes for personal baggage as well as possessions.

8. Other people exist besides yourself. The bus was not made for you and your needs. There are other people with different life stories, different clothes, different allergies and literature tastes, and their way of life is just as valid as yours.

9. People are people everywhere. This one goes without explaining.

10. Smile. Your smile will open more doors and give you more free donuts than your fist.

11. Think. Preparing ahead of time and thinking about the repurcussions of your decisions can lead to better, more effective outcomes. For example, bringing a pillow would make sleeping easier and the next day less exhaustion-filled.

12. Think positive. Since you’re already thinking, you might as well make it positive. Stress causes your brain to ferment, and too often you spend it worrying about things you can’t control, like what you’re going to eat for breakfast at South Street Diner.

13. Call Mom when you get in. She really cares about you and wants to make sure your trip went safely.

14. Sleep more. You probably need more sleep than you’re getting and especially more sleep than you’ll ever get on the overnight bus.

15. Bring warm clothing.

16. Infinity is everywhere. It is in the lengthening hours of the bus trip, it’s in the distance between your legs and the back of the seat in front of you, and it’s in the distance between you and a golden time in your past that you can never return to.

17. Love others.

18. Beauty is everywhere. It’s in the way rain hits the windows, in the color of a German’s hair and in the rich brown of a cup of Dunkin’ Donuts coffee.

19. Care. Care about other people, about yourself, about the bus and the cities that you’re passing through. Care about the quality of work you produce and about the state of the nation and the world. Care even though it’s risky, even though it might hurt, even though it takes energy. Care.

20. Remember that life is heartbreakingly beautiful for reasons you will never quite understand, and that your great privilege and duty is to chase this beauty for as far as you can go, until your Megabus reaches its final destination and not a second sooner.

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