Yeah, I am still here...

Those of you that keep checking each day (I may not know who you are, but I know are checking) are probably wondering when I will do a new post. Well, this isn't quite what you are looking for, but just know that I do plan to keep writing posts. I've just been a bit busy with the job hunt lately.

In the mean time, enjoy the pretty pictures on my other site 24gotham.

I will be back soon with more.... Really!

The Hippest Blue Light in the World...

On the list of big-box stores, I generally wouldn't be caught dead shop in, Kmart ranks second only to Walmart. And while I have proudly never spent a dime in a Walmart (I have been to two Walmarts on reconnaissance missions, the second time I felt so dirty I had to run from the store... but that is a different post), I grew up going to Kmart in California, and have many childhood memories of shopping there. I remember the lunch counter with its limited menu of processed crap food, along with the cranky lady behind the counter, the sticky sweet smell of blue and red Icee's. (I was fond of the polar bear on the Icee machine) and the center isle with all the bargains. My fondest memory, however, was the box on wheels, covered in wood-grained Formica with a pole sticking out, atop of which held the famous flashing blue light. Then the PA would crackle:

"Attention Kmart Shoppers: we'd like to direct your attention to our Sporting Goods Department where we are having a Blue Light Special on all rifles and ammunition. For the next five minutes only, you can take an additional 10% off of all rifles and ammunition... Thats right, an additional 10% off of all your hunting needs for the next five minutes only. And remember, always look for the flashing Blue Light for savings at Kmart, and thank you for shopping Kmart today."

Shoppers would rush to the flashing blue light, even if they didn't need or want the item on special, as if just to see the frenzy of other shoppers snapping up the deals. Of course, I was always urging Mom to go over and see the action as well.

When I was nineteen, I somehow (I have no memory of how it happened) ended up working at Kmart on Howe Avenue in Sacramento. For a couple of summer months, in 100 degree plus heat, I would corral carts from the parking lot, stock shelves, and then collect my pay in cash each Friday from the 'cash office'. They kept me pretty busy, but a couple of times when nobody was looking, I rolled the big wood-grained blue light box to a nearby department, pluged it in, and flipped the switch, just to see how many people would gather around (I got caught once, and had a shift canceled as a result). To this day have no idea what possessed me to want to work there. Ahhh... good times, good times indeed...

After leaving California at 21, I lived in urban centers where Kmarts were miles away, and I had no need for them. As I got older, I grew to be a bit of a snob (it's true, I'll admit it) about the discount stores, and Kmart was just a place I had no need for. Instead, I became a Target shopper... It was mainly a style thing. Kmart sold ugly things... things I wouldn't be caught dead with in my home.

So, the other day, I found myself sweating profusely in the sauna that is Manhattan in the summer, wishing I had a washcloth with me to wipe my brow. I neglected to pack any with my boxes I shipped from Chicago, and I didn't want to use all of my hosts washcloths. So, what to do? Well, I still don't know where everything is in Manhattan (and probably never will), but I did remember the Kmart near Astor Place, and being only a few blocks away, I thought what the hell.

Well... I expected it to be a bit ghetto'ish, with plenty of people of lesser means pushing strollers around with five to seven children in tow (did I mention that I can be a bit of a snob?), which I did see, but not as many as I thought. But what I didn't expect to see were the hoards of LES and Village Hipsters walking up and down the aisles. So many that you couldn't swing a baby without hitting a Hipster. I was also pleasantly surprised by how the store was relatively clean, relatively organized, and while it was still Kmart and the merchandise was still mostly cheap and ugly, I actually found an item or two that I could envision in my home (inside of a cabinet of course).

As I left the store with my $2.00 washcloths (exactly what I wanted), I found it interesting how my childhood memories had flooded back, even though I was in a three level store in the middle of Manhattan. Of course the big wood-grained box with a flashing blue light atop is history (now it's just a picture of an animated blue light bulb on in-store signage), the memory will always linger on. I might actually go back again....


Someday.

Do you have Blue Light Special memories?

Tar and Fedders...

(photo: Witness Housing, Brooklyn Heights, Devyn Caldwell)

New Yorkers have been experiencing a typical heat wave this past week, and it looks to continue into the next week as well. No surprise, it is the beginning of August, and this is normal no matter how much I loathe heat and humidity. Walking around this week has been a futile effort avoiding sticky things melting on the sidewalk (I stepped in tar twice), the shocking yet pleasant surprise of sprinkles of water from window/wall air-conditioners falling to the sidewalk and staying cool by ducking into stores that are chilled like a refrigerator.

Contributing to the heat island (literally) that is Manhattan and Brooklyn (Queens too, but we won't go there... Really), is the (previously mentioned) ubiquitous window/wall air-conditioner. Among the most ubiquitous of air-conditioner brands is Fedders. They along with Friedrich are everywhere... And I mean EVERYWHERE!

There are a lot of contributing factors to the large numbers of these lovely additions to our city scape, from the fact that nearly all Manhattan and much of Brooklyn housing was built long before the invention of the wheel, electricity, air-conditioning was available, and the fact that there are a lot of tiny apartments crammed into many large buildings. Fedders and their ilk can be found in the homes of the poor, the commoner (such as myself) as well as homes of those that have the ability to afford more than 500 square feet (read; the wealthy). Central air (like a washer/dryer) is a luxury that few have, and that isn't likely to change any time soon. But that's OK, it wouldn't be New York otherwise.

So, as I sit and write this post (next to the window air-conditioner on high), I will continue to appreciate the quirks of New York City, and be thankful that I can escape the heat, just like a wealthy person.

Edit: I forgot to mention... I am still feeling a bit under the weather, but as per usual, it takes a while to recover from Bronchitis. The coughing lingers on. Even though it has been two years since I quit smoking, the previous 24 years of smoking still take their toll on me from time to time.

There is a Very Cute Doctor in the House...

Follow up on my previous post... I had a better than expected experience at the DOCS walk-in clinic on 34th between Madison and Park this afternoon. Within 30 minutes, I got in, saw a cute doctor, and got out with my prescription. I have a Z-Pack, and will be all healed in four days or so.

Is there a Doctor in the House?

I have been feeling under the weather for the past few days as a result of my semi-annual bout with bronchitis (Although this time it has been nearly a year.) I had the first clue on Sunday with the sore throat, and then on Monday, I was achy and cranky, so I stayed in.

On Tuesday, I got up, and using the power of the internet, I went to my insurance company's website to look for a doctor that was close by me in Brooklyn Heights. After spending an hour calling a dozen or so numbers, I finally got a person that would speak to me about making an appointment, but she asked if she could take my number and call me right back. Didn't happen...

After three hour of waiting, I began the search again, dialed another dozen numbers (I just know I am going to blow my minutes this month on my new plan for my iPhone). The results were as follows: "The doctor isn't taking new patients", "There are no appointments available for two weeks", "Go to the emergency room". I also got transferred countless times, told to dial another number, and was hung up on twice.
Frustrated that I had wasted so much time, it was now after noon, and I felt I was getting nowhere.

Next step... I got dressed, and walked the ten or so blocks (which is where I found the lion on the curb) to a local unnamed hospital to see if I could get in to see a doctor. Not knowing where to go, I found the admissions desk and the nice person (the first nice person of the day) told me to go a block away, and there was a clinic where I could try to get an appointment. When I arrived at the clinic, the waiting room had at least 100 people in the waiting room, including several screaming babies (like fingernails on a chalkboard). I thought to myself, I am not this sick, and walked out.

After leaving, I called my host who lovingly said he would check into his doctors office, and call me in a few minutes. Turns out his doctor is on vacation for two weeks, and the other physicians are not taking new patients. Exasperated at this point, I began to convince myself that I felt better, and that I didn't need to see a doctor after all.

Yesterday, I lounged around and did nothing as I willed myself back to health, and this morning, no improvement. So, the process begins again... I have thus far made only six calls, when I finally got a relatively nice person who informed me of a walk in clinic in Mid-Town. I am headed there within the hour.

It is pretty amazing what one has to go through for eight minutes of face time with a doctor, and a prescription for Ketek.

I will be the first to admit that I have been spoiled by good insurance, and the same doctor for the past seven years. Whenever I needed to see him, it was a quick phone call and a few hours away. I can only hope that I am able to find a regular doctor here, and establish the same relationship as well.

Under the Weather...

So it is week two in NYC, and I am down with bronchitis (at least I think that is what it is.... I usually get it once or twice a year). Stay tuned, I promise to write more...!

We Can... Because its New York... Part II

After yesterday's posting, I was reminded of another interesting curiosity of NYC. Why are there price tags on all my stuff?... My curiosity drove me to a Google search... which revealed yet another factor contributing to groceries being obscenely overpriced in New York City. It is burried section 5, article 67 in the summary of the New York City Consumer Protection Law (link is a pdf), I found the following:

"5-67. ITEM PRICING IN FOOD STORES - Stores are required to mark individually the prices of most food items. This applies to stores, or chains, doing at least $2 million of business yearly. Exemptions include frozen foods and sales items that appear in special displays."

So, that means pretty much all food stores are required to put price tags on nearly all merchandise. How much does the union labor for that drive up the cost of food? (5 cents an item perhaps?) Now, I understand that it is nice to have a little paper label on everything that I put in the basket (I haven't seen price tags on merchandise in a grocery store for the better part of twenty years), but is it really necessary?

The reliance of shelf labels and use of scanners has worked pretty well in the rest of the country since the last century, and when faced with penalties for not charging the correct price, retailers elsewhere are pretty good at self regulating. Besides, it cost more to do business when a customer has little or no faith in the scanner system, and it is in a stores best interest to get it right.

And what about the two million a year in sales requirement? That equates to an average of about $5,500 in business a day.... Or, 220 customers spending $25 bucks on groceries.

Given the 99.5% reliability of scanners, I would rather take my chances.

We Can... Because its New York...

My friends apartment where I am staying has a typical New York kitchen for a studio apartment. By local Realtor™ standards, it would be called a "cooks kitchen" (it has a drawer!). This 5 x 5 space would be the laughing stock of the rest of America, but in New York, there are many that would give a testicle or finger, or something else comparable just to have this much space to make coffee.

You see, New Yorkers have small kitchens not because they live in small apartments (which they do), but because nobody cooks here. Why cook, when you have have anything you want delivered within the hour... or walk a few feet from your door and have a wide variety of restaurants to choose from. It also doesn't help that landlords live by the rule that; to spend any money on such items as cabinets or counter tops is an absurd waste of their profits.

Well, as I am at the moment unemployed, and trying to watch my duckets, I decided that I would learn to make do with what I had, and do some grocery shopping to get some basics ( things that don't involve a lot of actual cooking, since my dear host is among those that uses his oven for storage). So, this afternoon, I headed down to the Brooklyn Heights Gristede's to stock up on real groceries that could be used to put together meals and save the need to eat out three times a day.

It was as I pushed my cart down the 36' wide isles, squeezing between people, displays, and support columns for the housing above that I had a complete and total realization of the real reason that people eat out as much as they do. It's Cheaper!!!! (Note to any fellow New Yorkers that may be reading this... do you know how much you are being screwed when you got to the grocery store?)

Now I know that rents are higher for grocery stores too, but that is why NYC grocery stores are tucked into small basements or other crevices, to help make up for the higher rents. And, I expected things to be more costly.... But, as I walked down the isles, everything was 20- 30% more expensive that what I was used to paying in Chicago. And if it was even remotely healthy, that gave them an excuse to increase the price even more. I saw items that I would normally expect to be $3.99 priced at $7.99. WTF??? I then found myself spending the next 45 minutes wandering around the store to see just how expensive everything was going to be. (Example: Kellogg's Crispix Cereal... In Chicago, I would usually pay about $4.19 for a 12oz box, here... $5.29!) After the initial shock wore off, I went through the check out and spent $75.00 on four bags of groceries... I felt worse than I do when I leave Whole Foods spending the same amount on the same quantity... At least Whole Foods gives the illusion that it is money well spent.

So... Lesson learned... New Yorkers eat out all the time not because of their impossibly small kitchens, but because it is simply cheaper and easier.... Not to mention the added benefit of using one's oven for additional storage.

Birthday Revisited...

Last night I celebrated my birthday by going to a going away party for Ken, a friend of a friend. OK, well enough... I had had a nice dinner the night before for my b-day, and being that I am not exactly established yet, I tend to go with whatever comes my way.

So, back to last night and the going away party... After having an average dinner with friends at the venerable Fortune House (not) in Brooklyn Heights where I am staying... I found myself watching gay men line dancing to Country Music on the tiny dance floor at Catty Shack, a lesbian bar in Park Slope. Now, I am not exactly a fan of Country Music, I couldn't tell you who sang what, but I do enjoy watching line dancing, and two stepping. There is something to the rhythm of it that I find quite appealing. Not that you would likely ever find me doing it. In the end, the juxtaposition of it all, made for quite the fun evening, and a memorable way to spend my birthday. I also got to finally meet several people I had heard about over the past few years.

Good Luck in Arizona Ken.

Another Birthday...

Today is another birthday for me. Yes, if you have been paying attention, I have actually revealed that my age is 42. I don't feel 42 in my head, and since most of my friends are younger than I am, I feel that at times, I am at somewhat of a loss for what to talk about when I am with people my own age. Perhaps it because I am not married with children living in the suburbs with a white picket fence and two SUVs in the driveway, listening to 80s music... I'm not sure.... But what I do know is that I have no intention of growing old in a way that will eventually shutter me off into a corner. My worst fear is being stuck in a poorly decorated old folks home with a bunch of boring people my age, still reminiscing about the 1980's. Another words, life is about moving forward, no matter how old you become.
Happy Birthday to me!

Pay Phones Everywhere...

It seems like every corner I turn, there is another pay phone in New York City. I find this quite curious being that it is 2007, and even homeless people have cell phones. After living in Chicago for the past eight years, I have (or thought I had) come to the understanding that pay phones were a relic from the 20th century, and that there were occasionally a few to be seen (such as "L" platforms in Chicago) they were pretty much gone. I cannot think of a single free-standing pay phone in the Chicago Loop (let me know if you know of any). I never see anybody using them, as all the drug dealers have Blackberries, so I ask.... Why are there pay phones everywhere?