Big City Living

New Yorkers and the Side Hustle

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New York is filled with interesting people. Master of None did an episode in Season 2 called “New York, I Love You” where it explored the lives of the people we pass in our everyday lives: the taxi drivers, the guys who sell you your breakfast sandwich at the bodega, the doormen. But the reason I find New Yorkers fascinating is because even the people you see in their normal jobs, they all have a side hustle. I consider myself the Queen of the Side Hustle. I deserve a crown. For a while, I was even taking surveys online just to get free Starbucks gift cards. Most recently I joined Influenster in the hope that they send me free products. Hopefully I’ll start instagramming them soon.

New York is a tough place to live; the average price of a one bedroom apartment is $2,700/month, $3,000 if you only look at Manhattan. One job just won’t cut it. The New York Post recently wrote about it, as did CNN. CNN reported that over 44 million Americans have side hustles. Roughly the same amount of Americans who have student debt. I wonder if that’s a coincidence. But this multiple-jobs-just-to-keep-a-roof-over-our-heads lifestyle is what makes us all interesting. And multi-faceted. And tired. But that’s for another post.

Here are a few things I know people do as side hustles: uber driving, waitressing, bartending, lululemon educating, blogging. Oh, and of course group fitness. Don’t get me wrong, there are some people who do all of these things full-time. But it’s more likely that people cobble together multiple things to make a living. Waitress/Actor. Or is it Actor/Waitress? Does it make a difference?

Even the people who don’t think they have a side hustle often have one, but they call it a “hobby,” like investing. As far as I’m concerned, if you spend a few hours a week on it, follow finance blogs, have a special tweet deck for finance, and it makes you some mulah, it’s a hustle. Cough Cough Emoji BF Cough Cough.

One of my coworkers who just started at my full-time job kept one shift a week at her old job, bartending at a bar/restaurant/karaoke spot. She only works on Friday nights, but the extra cash she gets pays for her expenses for the week. Plus, it can be fun to meet people at your side hustle! People whose paths you probably wouldn’t otherwise cross. It’s fun for me too, because I can visit her and sing karaoke to my heart’s desire. It’s always helpful to know a bartender in New York. The problem is, she also works at our full-time spot on Fridays. That means her work day is basically 9 am to 4 am, 7:30 am to 5 am if you include the commute. WOAH. In what other city is working 22 hours normal? But I can’t judge, I do it too!

For a while, I was flipping clothes. I know you’re thinking that is ridiculous, but there is a HUGE second market. I would go to SoulCycle sample sales every time they happened, and I would go as soon as they dropped prices a second time. I would scoop up ANYTHING lululemon brand (they had other brands, too, but ew), and then I would sell it on apps like Poshmark (SIGN UP WITH MY CODE JLDNQ for $5 off!) and Mercari (SIGN UP WITH MY CODE FDXTKW for $10 OFF)! as “NWT” or, New With Tags. I turned hundreds of dollars in profit! It took time to take the photos, post them, monitor the listings and re-post them to my followers. And of course it took time to pack and ship them, but it was worth it!

Another side hustle of mine: retail. Two years ago, I worked at lululemon for a holiday season. I won’t lie, I did it first and foremost for the discount. Also, I liked the company and its goals. (Read: I drank the luxtreme koolaid.) When I had my interview with the manager, she asked me if I was sure I wanted to do this, and made sure I would have some semblance of a work-life balance. She only let me work Fridays after my other job and Sundays, insisting I took Saturday off. Most other companies wouldn’t give a sh*t about your “balance” from another job, but I did appreciate having that one day to myself every week. In fact, working at lululemon was one of the highlights of my past few years. As I’m sure you know, I have a passion for fitness, and it was fun to just chat about workout clothes and new niche studios with customers (also have some of my classes comped!) and get paid for it! My Fridays often went from 8 am to 10 pm, but I found myself looking forward to it. Having a side hustle is a good way to get out of the daily 9-5 grind and to keep yourself on your toes.

My main side hustle is being a fitness instructor. I’ve had that side hustle fitness job for 11 years and counting, through undergrad, “unemployment,” law school, lawyering, and now, my #JewJob. When I started, it was my only job, on the side of being a full-time student, but it was fun to have extra cash in my pocket, and it was also fun to see people at the bars who recognized me from my classes. I felt like I was semi-famous. In NYC, I get paid 3 times what I was paid to teach in Florida. Granted, my rent is more than three times as high. Also, since February, the YMCAs of Greater New York centralized their subbing system online so I can pick up classes at gyms throughout the five boroughs. If I need some extra cash, I pick up an extra class! Who am I kidding, I ALWAYS need extra cash (did you see my ongoing series about my student loans?!) and I am always looking for an extra workout. I pick up every class my body and schedule allows! The best thing about this particular side hustle is that it also good for my health. That’s a win-win. Until I sprain my ankle again.

Do any of you guys have a side hustle you enjoy? Can I join it? A penny saved is a penny earned is a penny saved. Or something like that.

 

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Big City Living, Miscellaneous

Solar Eclipse of the Heart

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In case you live under a literal rock and never come out, yesterday there was a full solar eclipse across the United States. A solar eclipse is a celestial event in which the moon passes between the sun and the earth, and blocks the sun from view. We are in a unique position on Earth because it only happens because the sun is 400 times the size of the moon, and also 400 times further away. No other planet can enjoy this phenomenon, not  like anyone is planning to travel to Neptune any time soon (remember when we had a space program? LOL). Anyway, if you are in the path of totality, it gets dark like nighttime in the middle of the day, and it lasts approximately 2 minutes and 40 seconds. A LOT of people I know traveled long distances to see this awesome event, the first full eclipse in the USA since 1979.

I didn’t leave the state (or the city), and unfortunately, we were only able to see a partial eclipse from New York City, but it was still a pretty amazing experience. One of the best things about this eclipse, IMO, was the full-out frenzy for eclipse glasses. According to NASA, you should never look directly at the sun (duh), so you needed these “ISO 12312-2 compliant pair of these special shades!” Quote from NASA, not me. There were different vendors like Warby Parker, and certain public libraries that were giving them away for free. There were some satirical conspiracy theories about how it was all an Amazon scam to get people to buy them. Again, in case you live under a rock and haven’t seen a million photos of these on social media, they basically look like the crappy paper glasses they used to give out at 3D IMAX movies, the ones that never actually stayed on your head, before they started using the actual plastic, recyclable ones. FYI, if you have extra eclipse glasses after yesterday, you can click here and learn how to donate or recycle them!

I loved the people crowdsourcing for eclipse glasses on Facebook and Twitter. Who knew we all loved astronomy so much? Honestly I hadn’t thought much about it since my Astronomy for Dummies class, freshman year of college to satisfy my GenEd Science credits. But as Monday got closer, my social media followers and followees starting ramping up for the eclipse, and I am totally guilty of getting wrapped up in it.

When I got to the office, I immediately went to NASA’s facebook page, where I heard they would be live broadcasting starting at 11 am. As the countdown to the first totality in Oregon went down by each second, I got more and more excited. I originally didn’t care about procuring glasses, I figured I’d just look straight at it, like an idiot, or use one of the other ingenious contraptions to see the sun’s shadow. Of course, I didn’t bother to make one of those contraptions. Once I had the NASA live feed up, I started to worry about not having the correct equipment. I walked down the hall in my office to ask around to see who had super special 3D movie glasses. THANKFULLY, a girl whose father loves science sent her 5 pairs. I made sure to have her come pick me up on her way to watch.

As the morning went on, my best friend on the west coast was sending me photos of the partial eclipse in Seattle, where she is, and of the total eclipse in Oregon, where her friend with an amazing photography hobby was. I was giddy with excitement. When I got outside, I was not disappointed. The sidewalks were filled with people with all different viewing contraptions, from cereal box pinhole viewers, to double paper plates, some colanders, a printout from the NASA website, and of course, the handy-dandy 3D movie/eclipse viewing glasses. Regulation, as per NASA.

Overall, I was incredibly impressed. It left me super jealous of my friends who traveled to see the totality, and I’m already thinking about how to get to Texas or Maine on April 8, 2024, when the next total solar eclipse is visible in North America.

My favorite part of the eclipse was possibly the social media aftermath and memes. And of course the fiasco and ridiculous memes after our Commander in Chief looked directly at it. Some of my favorite tweets:

https://twitter.com/thetylersopland/status/899701811166158848

 

https://twitter.com/lewiscurtwright/status/899703369861877762

And of course, some of my own. My memes were fire:

Other non-social media highlights of the eclipse:

  • Leaving the office for 15 minutes in the middle of the day, with an excuse no one could argue about.
  • The temperature dropped for a few minutes. Any respite from this heat, I will appreciate.
  • I got to socialize and meet other people in my office building, and strangers on the street.
  • Seeing Bonnie Tyler’s Total Eclipse of the Heart go to #1 on the iTunes chart. That’s a 2,859% increase in the U.S. and an 827% increase globally.
  • Seeing New Yorkers, in general, socializing with one another.
  • Looking at the packed streets in midtown via social media.
  • Forgetting for two short minutes that our entire country is going down the you-know-what.

Now back to our normally scheduled programming of antisocial behavior, looking down at our phones instead of up to the sky, and shielding our eyes with expensive shades instead of free paper ones from the library. Until next time in 2024!!

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Big City Living

NYC Date Night

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Saturday I went on the most epic NYC Date Night. Spoiler alert, Broadway was involved. This is my first blog post where I actually rave about living in New York, so get excited.

Back Story: My bf told me I am not allowed to write about him on this blog (hence why I always cover his face with an emoji), so I won’t give much detail about the back story. But, suffice it to say, I had not spent any meaningful amount of time with him in weeks, unless you count hours of sleep, and I told him he owed me a date night. If you don’t say what you want, how will you get it, AMIRITE? My emoji-bf’s idea of a date night is almost always the same: dinner at a restaurant where the cheapest aperitif rings in at approximately $25 and you are expected to have a glass of wine to pair with each course. Now don’t get me wrong, I can appreciate a good meal every once in a while, but I’m more likely to appreciate a dinner at the Meatball Shop, where I can go Balls to the Wall and still end up with a total bill of $20. I simply told my emoji-love-of-my-life that a fancy dinner would not do for date night, and I wanted to do a “fun activity.” I was thinking mini golf. Maybe bowling.

But no, he ended up surprising me with tickets to Book of Mormon on Broadway, and a dinner afterward! With 4th row orchestra seats. It was amazing.

If you are an avid longlegsbigcity reader, you know by now that I complain about New York more often than I rave about it (disgusting hot summers, terrible rainy days, smelly, non-air-conditioned subways, mystery slush lagoons in the winter). But I must say, Saturday was a day where I was incredibly thankful to live in the city that never sleeps.

Here is a rundown of the day that made me fall in love with NYC again:

Morning: I taught a spin class in my neighborhood, meaning, 30 blocks away. It was hot so I hopped on the subway (free with my unlimited Metrocard) and for once, the train came on time. I got there in 10 minutes. I made $50 and got my workout in. I picked up my new spin shoes on the way home, at the bicycle store that is conveniently located on the same street where I live.

Afternoon: I did 4 loads of laundry while I tanned on my rooftop. I am one of the lucky New Yorkers with both laundry in the building AND a rooftop for tanning. More on the #RooftopDweller Lifestyle later this week.

Later Afternoon: I asked Emoji-BF what I was supposed to wear for later, since he had told me he had planned a surprise date. He said “semi nice” which is not a thing. So I asked him more specifically and he said “we are going to see a show.” Keep in mind, he had never been to a Broadway show before, so I wasn’t sure if he meant show like, comedy club, or what. I showered and put on a sundress, and we walked to my sister’s house to hang out. Did I mention my sister and her husband live 11 blocks from me? It took us 10 minutes to get there by foot. Another great advantage of NYC.

Evening: E-BF (“emoji boyfriend”) called a Via and the two of us got down to midtown for $5.95 total. (Use my code to sign up for Via, and you can get super cheap rides too!! Use the code emily5s6e to get $10 free!) Anyway, we got to midtown and he handed me a ticket for Book of Mormon. I was ecstatic. Not only had I wanted to see that show for years, but we are going to Utah in 10 days! Perfect time to brush up on my Mormo-trivia. Not a typo, I call them Mormos.

Anyway, we entered the theater and the ushers told us to proceed down the aisle to the “front section usher.” What?! OUR TICKETS WERE IN THE FOURTH ROW. Guys, these seats were amazing. It turns out that there were 3 seats together, and they were still available that morning because you are not allowed to book 2 seats together on Ticketmaster when only 3 are available. However, E-BF tricked the system. He reserved (but didn’t purchase) one ticket, which holds it for up to 8 minutes, and doing so opened the other 2 up for purchase. Then he opened another browser window to purchase. BAM. I date him because he is so stinkin’ smart.

The show was absolutely AMAZING. Probably one of my favorites I have ever seen. And I have seen a lot. In order of most recent to least recent: Fiddler on the Roof, Porgy and Bess, Jersey Boys, Chicago, Aida, Riverdance, Bring in Da Noise Bring in Da Funk, Miss Saigon, Phantom of the Opera, and possibly more that I don’t remember. Anyway, HIGHLY HIGHLY HIGHLY recommend The Book of Mormon. I was laughing out loud within 1 minute of the curtain rising. I was smiling the whole time. My face literally hurt by the end. And the songs were so catchy, I have been listening to it on Spotify ever since. More importantly, I feel completely prepared for Utah.

Minor spoiler alert if you know absolutely nothing about Book of Mormon. The main characters, Mormon missionaries, get stationed in Uganda for their mission. This was a tiny bit awkward since my boyfriend is of African heritage. They make fun of African issues in a very satirical way, but it goes on for quite some time. Aids, people who think they can have sex with virgins to get rid of their Aids, dysentery, war lords, etc. I think E-Bf was a pretty good sport, but there were a few times I was worried to look over at him. He was born in New Jersey though, so I thought I was pretty safe. Maybe less safe at Jersey Boys.

When the show ended around 10:25, we were hungry and guess what, it is NYC so every single restaurant was still open. We went to Dutch Fred’s for dinner, one of E-BF’s fav spots. Then we took another $5.95 Via home.

What a successful NYC day/night. In what other city can you just decide on a whim at 11 am that you are going to buy tickets to a world-class production for that current day and take a 10 minute, $6 car there? Sometimes it’s really cool to live here.

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Big City Living, Long Legs and other Personal Problems

Sick and the City

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I apologize for not blogging much recently, but it’s because I am SICK! I have been sick 6 times since January. For those of you counting, that is almost once a month. I know I complain about New York as the worst place to live, and sometimes I am exaggerating, but when you’re sick, it REALLY is the worst place.

Let’s start with the obvious: tissues. How do you carry them? I used to keep a box in my car, but obviously that is not an option. You know we have all had days where grabbing 3 or 4 individual tissues is just not going to cut it, but carrying around an entire box on the subway seems excessive. Or is it? I’ve taken to carrying a roll of very super soft toilet paper. Always triple-ply. It’s more totable, it’s cheaper, AND there’s a lot of paper on there.

Which brings me to my next point – what do you do with this plethora of tissues once used? It’s not like a trash can is available on every subway car. Do you stuff them in your bag to make all your other things gross, and then hope you remember to trash them when you exit the train? Do you hold them in your hand until you get off? First of all, ew. Second of all, you need that hand to hold on to the subway pole! Come to think of it, maybe this is why I’m getting sick all the time. All of these gross New Yorkers’ tissue hands on the poles. I have seen old ladies only touch the pole with tissues, but again, this seems excessive. Also, I’ve probably used up all my tissues by that point. Then again, those old ladies with medical masks, holding on to the pole with a tissue every day aren’t the ones snotting all over the place every month (how’s THAT visual?) Maybe they’re on to something.

Phase two of sickness: major coughing. This presents another problem in New York. Namely, everyone assumes you have The Plague, yet there’s absolutely nothing you can do about standing in extremely close proximity to people at all times. Taking the subway to the doctor, waiting in line for matzah ball soup (the Jewish penicillin), there’s no getting away. I remember being sick back during the Ebola epidemic. I coughed once in the subway, and the subway car cleared out as if it had no AC. I had the whole thing to myself! There’s the silver lining. People run from you.

But the worst part of being sick in New York by far is just getting around. You know those days when your muscles are failing you and it feels like you just did CrossFit but really all you did was roll out of bed to the bathroom? Well imagine having that feeling but still having to walk 7 blocks to the subway, then do multiple flights of stairs. WOOF.

Here’s hoping I get better soon. Long Legs Sick City signing off. I will now go buy stock in Kleenex. Or Charmin. And I’ll leave you with my favorite poem of all time, Sick, by Shel Silverstein.

“I cannot go to school today,”

Said little Peggy Ann McKay.

“I have the measles and the mumps,

A gash, a rash and purple bumps.

My mouth is wet, my throat is dry,

I’m going blind in my right eye.

My tonsils are as big as rocks,

I’ve counted sixteen chicken pox

And there’s one more—that’s seventeen,

And don’t you think my face looks green?

My leg is cut—my eyes are blue—

It might be instamatic flu.

I cough and sneeze and gasp and choke,

I’m sure that my left leg is broke—

My hip hurts when I move my chin,

My belly button’s caving in,

My back is wrenched, my ankle’s sprained,

My ‘pendix pains each time it rains.

My nose is cold, my toes are numb.

I have a sliver in my thumb.

My neck is stiff, my voice is weak,

I hardly whisper when I speak.

My tongue is filling up my mouth,

I think my hair is falling out.

My elbow’s bent, my spine ain’t straight,

My temperature is one-o-eight.

My brain is shrunk, I cannot hear,

There is a hole inside my ear.

I have a hangnail, and my heart is—what?

What’s that? What’s that you say?

You say today is. . .Saturday?

G’bye, I’m going out to play!”

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Big City Living

Rainy Daze

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It has been raining all morning. And afternoon. Ok, it’s basically been raining since Saturday. In New York City, this weather brings a certain type of lethargy. It’s the “why is the subway 4 blocks from my house” lethargy. Or the “I am soaking wet by the time I get to work because the bus didn’t come for 14 minutes” lethargy. Or it’s the “I was stabbed in the eye 5 times by an umbrella and now I can’t see” lethargy. People look soaked, dejected, and depressed. Sort of like an entire city of Eeyores.

I never had an appreciation of how this terrible weather can affect your mood until I started living in a city that requires an outside commute. In Florida, you got in your car and besides driving 5 MPH below the speed limit, you were fine. It sucked when it was raining because you couldn’t go to the pool or beach, but most of the time it rained for an hour, and then you were back out on the beach, or on your chaise lounge. Here, when it rains, it POURS. Literally. In New York, when it starts to rain, you know it is not likely to stop for a few days. Also, the rain here is not like god saying “oh the grass looks yellow, let me give it a sprinkle,” it’s more like god saying “YOUR ENTIRE CITY HAS WRONGED ME AND THEREFORE YOU ARE TO DIE OF A FLOOD LIKE NOAH AND HIS ARK.”

The one respite from this monsoon weather is scaffolding. TGFS. Thank God For Scaffolding. I often plan my walks during monsoon days by picking the side of the street with the most scaffolding. Most routes have scaffolding on one side of the street or the other. So I zig zag my way to my destination. But just when you think you are safe under some scaffolding, a car pulls up too close to the curb, into the huge puddles of water (because why would the drainage in this city be any better than the public transit system?) and sprays a high-tide wave of water on all innocent bystanders. This morning, I decided to take the bus to work because the subway never works in the rain. Don’t ask me why. It baffles me that a public transit system specifically designed to go UNDERGROUND, away from the rain, is somehow ALWAYS effed up when there is any sort of weather. Hot, cold, snow, rain, anything besides 72 degrees and sunny. Anyway, I digress, you have already heard me gripe enough about the subway. This morning, after waiting 10 minutes in pouring rain for a bus, I was already wet. Like to the very last layer. And then the bus finally pulled up and it sprayed a tsunami-like wave puddle. Happy Monday to us.

Now as I mentioned, some New Yorkers find it necessary to carry umbrellas. I do not understand this because the rain here does not fall from the sky. It comes from east and west, north and even sometimes from the south. An umbrella does not help protect anything except MAYBE the top of your head. And even then, the wind is constantly turning umbrellas inside out. There’s a phenomenon here called the “5 block umbrella.” Basically, you buy it on the street for $5, and it lasts you exactly 1 block per dollar you paid for it. On every corner, you will see what I call an “umbrella graveyard,” where piles of these 5-block-umbrellas have reached their 5-block capacity, and are laid to rest in various stages of broken. Torn from their metal bones, inside out, and tossed away. Not worth it.

A few years ago, I invested in a rain jacket, and it is the best purchase I have ever made in New York. Don’t get me wrong, I still get completely soaked wherever my rain coat doesn’t cover, but at least it gives me a semblance of dry, and I can maneuver easier around the aforementioned umbrella dummies. The one great thing about this rain, the temperature has dropped 30 degrees! It was 68 degrees this morning. I’ll take it! Stay dry, y’all.

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Big City Living

This Past Weekend I Did Nothing

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This past weekend I did nothing. Of course, that is not true. But New Yorkers don’t always say what they mean. When New Yorkers say they did nothing, what it really means is that they had a couple hours specifically carved out where they were not running from one event to the next. And on those rare unicorn occasions, it is glorious.

This past weekend, here’s what I really did:

Friday: Worked a full day, grocery shopped and cooked dinner, then watched Moana with my boyfriend. He LOVED it. Maybe because he’s an emoji and it’s an animated movie, and birds of a feather flock together.

Saturday: Went to breakfast in Greenwich Village with my boyfriend and 3 friends, took a few photographs of my food, then meandered around and said bye to my BFF who was traveling back to Australia. Then did 5 loads of laundry.

Sunday: Taught 2 hours of fitness classes in Brooklyn while my brother was a participant. Took the local train there and back because, weekends in NYC, transit is literally the worst (this is an activity in and of itself). Went to lunch at an Indian buffet. Third best on the Upper West Side according to foursquare! It tasted like second best. Went shopping at CVS, where I saved $25 in coupons. Beware Extreme Couponing, I’m coming for you.

As you can see, this was not, indeed, nothing, but compared to a usual NYC weekend, it is incredibly tame. Almost every New Yorker can tell you when the next time they have nothing planned is, and they generally will be very happy about it, looking forward to it, sometimes counting down they days until it happens. One of my favorite comedians, John Mulaney, has a bit specifically about this. He says, if you ever ask an adult what they did over the weekend and they did nothing, their faces LIGHT UP. It’s so true! My coworkers asked me this morning how was weekend was, and I regaled them with tales of my binge-watching Jane the Virgin, and sang them a few lines from my new favorite soundtrack, Moana. Ok, maybe I didn’t do that last part, but I did hum some of it on the subway! Those songs are seriously catchy. Thanks Lin Manuel Miranda.

Doing nothing is a luxury that I cannot often take advantage of. There are things to do, people to see, food to eat, and the feeling of FOMO is so real. When I first moved in with my boyfriend, I thought I would be running out of the house at every possible moment to get away from him (no offense babe). But in reality, I have found that I am more and more likely to turn down invitations. Why? Well first of all, I’m poor. Thanks student loans. But even more, I already have someone to keep me company at home! And after nearly 7 years of go-go-go in New York, I am ready to slowww down. Don’t get me wrong, I am still going to go out to drunch every once in a while, but now that I am 30, I need a full day to recover. Also, sometimes it is the most luxurious feeling to find out that Pocahontas is streaming on Hulu and you can watch it over and over again. With the closed captioning on, it’s basically Disney Karaoke. You’re welcome for that Saturday serenade, neighbors.

I hope all of you guys had a fantastic weekend filled with lots of fun activities. Or not. Because sometimes that’s better.

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Big City Living

Dante’s Inferno Subway Car

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20 days into summer and it officially happened to me. The most dreaded thing for all New Yorkers. And yet the most inevitable as well. No, I do not mean finding a roach in your apartment (inevitable). Or a mariachi band on your commute home after a 14-hour day (also inevitable). This is arguably worse than both: an un-air conditioned subway car.

You have heard the stories, and if you have ever lived through a summer in this steamy, garbage-stenched city, you have probably experienced it. This living horror story never happens when you are on your way home, minutes from a cold shower, or on your way to a pool where you can cool off (supposedly a few of these exist in Manhattan-proper; it’s like a unicorn). No, these 5-10 minutes of Dante’s Inferno hell ALWAYS happen on your way to work, or worse, on your way to an important business meeting or interview. This is Satan’s way of making sure that when you show up, you smell half like a homeless person, and half like rotting garbage, and your hair is plastered to your face to really accentuate your cheekbones and the mascara-tinged-sweat that is still slowly dripping down the sides of your previously well-made-up face. Am I exaggerating? Maybe slightly. But for the most part, no. This is by far one of the worst things that can happen to a New Yorker in the summer besides finding out your landlord is raising your rent 15% (this actually happened to me).

In the past, I have recounted several experiences in stream of consciousness, from my one and only half marathon, to my thoughts leading up to my first date with my emoji boyfriend. Dante’s Inferno Subway Car is one of those highly-relatable phenomena that lends itself to second-by-second analysis. Every second’s thoughts being mostly, “GET ME THE F*CK OUT OF HERE.” Read my thoughts below and let me know in the comments if you’ve ever had the same feelings.

  • “YES. Only 2 minutes until the next train. Maybe I’ll actually be on time.”
    • Note: You are ALWAYS running late when this happens, it’s like Newton’s 4th Law
  • “Empty car? This is too good to be true.”
    • Note: It’s ALWAYS too good to be true.
  • *doors open* “Hmm, the air coming out seems warm, is it warm?” *walks in car*
  • *doors close* “OMG I HAVE ENTERED THE GATES OF HELL. SOMEBODY HELP ME.”
  • “I have 3 stops, can I make it all the way there in this steam room of rotting human flesh?”
  • *looks around* “There are at least 10 other people in here that are managing. I can do this.”
  • “I CANNOT DO THIS. HOW ARE THESE 10 PEOPLE DOING THIS?!”
  • “3 stops to go, though, is it worth switching cars?”
  • “I’m switching cars at the next stop.”
  • *peeps through window to next car, sees it’s completely full*
  • “Ok maybe it’s actually better in here with all of my room! It’s hot, but at least no one else is in here.”
  • *legs slide down seat because of sweat between them* “It’s not better. Still 2 stops to go? I gotta get out of here.”
  • *train stops between stations* “You’ve got to be kidding me. Am I being Punk’d?”
  • *looks around, sees no cameras, sees a lot of other miserable people* “Why is no one else sweating as much as me?”
  • “Do you think they would notice if I wiped my face with my shirt?”
  • *wipes face with shirt* “SHIT I forgot I was wearing foundation. Now my makeup AND my shirt are ruined.”
  • “Who even cares, no one will be able to see past the fact that I look like I casually popped in a pool on my way here.”
  • “Remember that time when I blow-dried my hair this morning? LOL”
  • “Well at least I remembered waterproof mascara today. Was my eyeliner waterproof?”
  • “They should really advertise this specific situation in makeup commercials.”
  • “No, they shouldn’t. No one would buy a product with anyone in the commercial looking like how I look right now.”
  • “I know my parents constantly remind me that subways never had AC back in their day, but ‘their day’ was BEFORE GLOBAL WARMING WAS A THING.”
  • “What if I actually die in here? How long does it take to die from heat?”
  • “Ok, I’d probably faint first. That might be more comfortable than consciousness.”
  • “Is it possible to make oneself faint?”
  • “Then I’d definitely be late, though. But it would be a great excuse.”
  • *doors open* “One stop to go, switching cars!” *runs faster than I have in years of going to run club*
  • “OMG I never thought I’d get to heaven and yet here I am.”
  • “Are wet t-shirt contests still a thing? Because I think I’m #Winning”
  • “Does this count as my workout for the day? I think I sweat more in the past 7 minutes than I did in Spin class last night.”
  • “What are the chances I dry off before my destination? Probs slim to none.”

Well, there you have it. In all of its #sweatzilla, disgusting glory. Note to the tourists visiting NYC in the summer, BEWARE the empty subway car, don’t even bother trying to do your hair, and ALWAYS bring extra deodorant.

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Big City Living, Travel

July 4th at Travers Island

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It’s July 10th, so it’s about time to review July 4th. I’m a bit behind. My 4th of July Freedom-Fest came together at the very last minute, but it included all the makings of a fantastic day: a quick getaway from NYC, best friends, a pool, and (most importantly?) unlimited food. Oh, and of course, I can never resist a good theme. I was in red white and blue EVERYTHING, all day, toes to bows, with multiple outfit changes.

My best friend is a member of the New York Athletic Club, an incredibly exclusive social and athletic club in NYC. Memberships are by invitation only, and you need to appear before a membership board for an interview before acceptance. It’s so exclusive, in fact, that they only began admitting women in 1989 (“voluntarily”… after the Supreme Court mandated it and some controversy ensued that it was not a business club, etc. etc.). They have had their share of controversies over admissions and have been picketed by demonstrators by the Congress for Racial Equality. Enough about that history. Read their Wikipedia for more. Anywayyy, I was pretty psyched to get an invite to Travers Island, full-Jew-blood and all.

NYAC has two houses, one in Manhattan (City House), and one in Westchester (Travers Island). I couldn’t wait to explore this country oasis 15 miles from Manhattan. Since my emoji bf had hurt his back the day prior, we made it a girls’ day, and boarded the free shuttle from NYC at 10 am, loaded up with multiple red, white, and blue clothing items, and varying SPF’s of sun protection. Upon boarding the bus I hid my Jew curls, and thanked my stars that my POC bf had stayed at home for fear of the WASP-illuminati. JK. But also really. So many blondes! More than I had ever seen in New York before.

The charter bus ride was quick, and we arrived at this beautiful house on the Long Island Sound, complete with an Olympic-sized salt water pool. There were chairs, beautifully-manicured trees, and young men (boys?) to help us move our chairs to the perfect half sunny/half shady/prime fireworks-viewing position. And yes, it was only 11 am, but we were thinking ahead. Totally paid off. We changed into swimsuits in the huge locker rooms (2nd themed outfit of the day), and sunscreened it up. We spent the day hopping between the huge pool and the buffet BBQ with multiple salads, roasted fennel, hot dogs, hamburgers, and all-you-can-eat popsicles/ice cream bars.

We did a few laps around the pool so we could get some fitbit steps in and burn off maybe one half of one ice cream bar. On one of our laps around the pool, we discovered the kids’ area. We asked around, and found out that we were probably too big for the bouncy water slide, but snow cones and cotton candy were fair game and they opened at 5 pm. They had temporary tattoos as well, but the line was too long (and I was a little embarrassed since most of the 30-year-olds there were accompanied by their own children). We continued our circuit from food to pool to laying out to walking around to kill time, and at 5 pm we circled back to the kids’ area and finally got cotton candy AND snow cones, because go big or go home. Everything was amazing. The sun was still high in the sky, and our unlimited food wristbands included dinner as well. Dinner added seasoned and grilled shrimp skewers, which were AMAZING. I had decided at 1 pm to skip all bread and rolls to save room for more food. Good strategy, worked all day for me. I may be done with #30Years30IceCreams, but I am clearly failing at any attempt I thought I’d make at a diet.

The sun finally started to set at 8:30 pm, and we changed into another dry, red, white, and blue outfit, and parked ourselves on blankets for the 10 pm fireworks. After 20+ rounds of Heads Up!, the best way ever to kill time, we brought out our glow sticks and prepared ourselves for the show. We had seen the pyrotechnics crew at the buffet earlier (the only visible tattoos and facial hair I saw all day) and there were 20 of them, so we were hoping for a great show. We were NOT disappointed. The private show lasted 15 full minutes, and they were some of the closest fireworks I had ever seen! I took at least 4 boomerangs for my insta story (because pics or it didn’t happen), and then we packed up to go. We boarded the VIP shuttle back to the City House, and half-slept/half-watched fireworks along the East River as we drove back into Manhattan. 9 hot dogs, 5 shrimp skewers, lots of tan lines, and innumerable trips to the bathroom later, I’d say we had a fantastic day. We didn’t even have one drink! It was real American clean fun. Until next year, maybe they’ll allow emoji-humans entry to NYAC by then. U-S-A! U-S-A!

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Big City Living

Drinking in New York (while not breaking the bank)

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New York is the City that never sleeps. It’s also the city that never DRIVES. Which means we drink. A LOT. Going out with colleagues? Happy hour. Meeting some friends? Wine bar. First date? Lounge with drinks. College Football? Dive bar. Girls day Saturday? DRUNCH. REALLY have to pee and the closest Starbucks is 5 blocks away? Hop in a bar for a quick drink (and pit stop).

But how does one go out to drinks 4-5 nights a week when a single drink can cost $18? Especially someone who went to law school and does not use or think about her degree (except to calculate her debt on mint.com?) There are few ways to get cheap/free drinks, all of which I have taken advantage of over the years.

First, make friends with people who get work perks. My best friend happens to work in media, and I have taken her up on open bar invitations more times than I can count, and had more drinks than I can count (… literally, I could not count by the end of the night). If you are not in a field that has drink perks, find a friend that has them. I have seen the Knicks from box seats, the US Open with free-flowing sushi platters and champagne, attended a pre-party with a rented-out bar for the Sweet Sixteen… you absolutely MUST have friends with benefits. Alcoholic ones.

If this plan does not work, then you must always find the oldest man in the bar. This is a fool-proof plan for a girl, and probably does not work the same way for a guy, but feel free to try. Old men love to buy drinks for girls. I know this is very “Samantha” from Sex and the City, but I swear it’s true. They may ask for your number, but always just say, “How about I call YOU instead.” This past St. Patrick’s Day, I had a 70-year old man tell me I was his soul mate and add me on Instagram (privacy settings are key here). Meanwhile, my tab for the night was $10 and I barely remember the subway ride home. Although I am speaking about drinking in NYC, this plan works EVERYWHERE. When I lived in Florida, we used to have contests to see who could find the oldest man in the bar. (We also had contests for who could find the sweatiest man, but that was mostly for the photo opps. I digress).

Another fool-proof plan: drink specials. In Florida, “Ladies’ Night” meant girls drank for free. In New York, it’s rare to find a Ladies Night at all. There are so freaking many of us, why would they want us to come out in droves any more than we already do? But there are other specials to be had. I TRY not to go out during the week, but BOGO drinks on Tuesdays? Ok fine. You got me. Friday night $6 cosmos and pig in a blanket before 7? I’ll skip the apartment pregame for that.

Which brings me to my last, MOST important drinking necessity: THE PREGAME. Not just for college students anymore. What’s cheaper than having 10 drinks out? Having 6 drinks at home and 4 at the bar. It’s simple math. 5 glasses of wine while you do your hair and makeup is 5 less vodka sodas you need to ask Old McDonald for at the bar. So what’s the difference between a 21-year-old pregame and 31-year-old pregame? Nothing but the hangover.

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Big City Living

Sizzling City Summer

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Yesterday was approximately 1009 degrees Fahrenheit. Who knows what that is in Celsius (really…  no one knows), but the point is, the second I left the house, I regretted it. And I started to count the hours until my next shower. 13. FML. If you haven’t noticed, New York City hates the heat. They also hate the cold, and love to complain about pretty much anything, but they especially hate the heat. That’s proven by our rise in violent crime in the summer. We get hot, we get angry, we literally kill each other. Seems logical.

There’s no avoiding the stifling heat. And I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but it’s not even summer yet. That means it’s about to get EVEN WORSE. The heat is everywhere if you choose to leave home. And for some of us, due to our jobs, it’s inevitable on a Monday morning. The first sign of heat (besides the insufferable humidity and difficulty breathing) is the look on everyone’s faces. Gone are the friendly Christmas-in-New-York-Isn’t-The-Rockefeller-Tree-So-Pretty faces. New Yorkers are known for perfecting the RBF, but this version of Heat RBF is next level. Example of unspoken Heat RBF: “if you move one inch closer to me on this subway, I WILL CUT YOU.” No words are necessary. The eyes say it all.

Although the heat is undeniable and unavoidable, some places are worse than others. Here’s a list of the worst places to be in the heat:
  • Outside. We already covered this. Avoid at all costs. But if it’s impossible to avoid, reduce your outside time to small doses. That means if it’s more than 5 blocks away, it is now out of your “summer radius.” Enter Seamless/GrubHub/instacart. It’s worth the delivery fee. You’ll save that money in the amount of water you’ll save by not having to shower for the fourth time that day.
  • Rooftops. Plainly speaking, they are closer to the sun. Also, heat rises. It’s science. Some of us still believe in it. If someone asks you to grab drinks and chooses an outdoor rooftop in summer, with no air conditioning, they clearly hate you. Decline politely. Or not politely. Automatic swipe left.
  • Subway Stations. Now guys, I know this is unavoidable since we are already not walking more than 5 blocks. But if at all possible, avoid this. Can you take the bus? Subway stations are notoriously hot. Standing on the street in the heat and sun, though counter-intuitive, is actually much cooler than descending into this Hades-like death trap. It’s comparable to the depths of hell, I’m pretty sure. When people tell me I’m going to hell (happens a lot on the phone at the rabbi job), I generally tell them I am well prepared because I’ve been in a subway station in the summer. If it’s a subway station that has the option to wait upstairs, do that until the last possible moment. TRUST ME. Is it worth a cab? With MTA fares increasing every month, the answer is, probably yes. Or use Via. It’s only 5 bucks! (And you can get $10 free if you use my code emily5s6e #ShamelessPlug #HelpMeImPoor #InsertReminderThatIWentToLawSchoolForNoReason).
  • My Spin Class. The YMCA has been having some trouble controlling the temperature in the Spin room. 33 people. 33 bikes. 4 fans are simply not enough. So far, no one has fainted in my class but it is only a matter of time. I accidentally closed the door for 3 minutes (one song), and the mirrors in the front of the room completely fogged up. I drew a heart with my finger. But what I really wanted to draw was “KILL ME.” For some reason, nobody left before the 60 minutes of class were over. I would like to credit my amazing playlist (follow me on Spotify!), but I think these people are just SUPER-driven. If I wasn’t teaching, you can bet I would have pranced out of there by the second song.
  • A Subway Car with No AC. At this point, most New Yorkers have read about the epic F Train Near-Massacre last week. Everyone’s worst nightmare: the subway was between stops with no wifi, and it lost power. No power = No AC. People were stuck for almost an hour. They stripped off their clothes. They asked for help by writing on the fogged up windows like in my spin class. They screamed. They cried. Horrific. This phenomenon of subway cars with no AC requires its own blog post. For now, just know that as a rule of thumb, this is the ultimate thing to avoid.

Long story long, there’s no good place to be in New York City in the summer. It’s crowded, it’s hot, and it’s way too small. There are bad places, and there are worse places. My advice: make friends with someone who has a house in the Hamptons. Then tell me who they are, because I’ve been here 7 years and I haven’t found one yet. Godspeed, fellow New Yorkers, it’s going to be a scorcher. And please, for the love of god, do not forget deodorant. 

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