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.
On Saturday, I took my emoji-faced boyfriend on a day trip adventure “down the shore” i.e. to the beach in New Jersey. This term is well-known in the northeast, and even the New York Times recognizes it as a thing. Other terms like Bennies and Shoebies are less well known, but well-documented. We were gone for 16 hours, and we returned with memories of Wawa Hoagiefest, full bellies of fresh clams (both of us), very sunburned legs (mostly just me), and salt in our hair.
Our adventure started at 8 am. During the summer, there are select NJ Transit express trains to Bay Head on Saturday mornings, so we wanted to make sure we got on the 9:01 am train! We had to first stop at the bodega, because you know what they say, “never leave home without a bodega sausage egg and cheese.” #DietStartsThisWeek. After the bodega, we got to the subway to find out that the next train was not coming for 14 minutes. SURPRISE SURPRISE, foiled by the MTA’s “constant service” yet again. We hopped into a cab and made it to Penn Station with plenty of time. The NJ transit was surprisingly reliable compared to the MTA, and we arrived on time!
I haven’t told you the reason for this adventure, but here we go: Wawa towel delivery. Yes, you read that correctly. I dragged my boyfriend on a $30/person train ride down the shore to hand-deliver a Wawa Hoagiefest towel. It was THAT important!!
Backstory:My dad works at Wawa, and before he started working there, he heard they had a cult-like following. However, he had no idea the extent of it. Sure enough, as soon as he started to tell people that he worked for Wawa, their first response, WITHOUT FAIL was “OH MY GOD I LOVE WAWA!” My dad soon realized that he had access to some great perks, like employee benefit drives selling Wawa paraphernalia! As soon as word spread to my friends, they were asking for things left and right. I now have friends in Ft. Lauderdale, FL, Las Vegas, NV, Burbank, CA, and Chadwick Beach, NJ who wait on the edge of their seats for the yearly fundraising drive items. This year, we were lucky enough to have the holiday sale AND an extra Hoagiefest towel sale to benefit Associates in Need.
Arrived! BF looks so happy to be in the sun!
I brought my own Wawa Tervis for the trip! Never leave home without it.
What’s cuter, the towel or the kid??
You’re right, the kid’s cuter.
Rewind 33 Years and Fast Forward to Last Saturday:One of my sister’s friends, Sara, from nursery school 33 years ago, grew up going to the Jersey shore and she has been obsessed with Wawa ever since, a shore staple. She even celebrated her 21st birthday with a 1 am Wawa trip! Needless to say, she needed a Wawa towel. I was happy to be the messenger and hand-deliver the precious cargo, and make a day out of it! Sara picked us up from the train station and our first stop was, OF COURSE, WAWA. We picked up $4.99 hoagies and to my chagrin, they were selling the very towels I came to deliver RIGHT IN THE STORE! WOOPS. I was disappointed, but hey, at least the one I was toting was for a good cause! Also, I got a day at the beach and I got to visit with old friends.
Sara’s husband, Dave, was already at the beach holding down the fort with their almost-3-year-old daughter, Lyra, and he didn’t mind waiting, since we came bearing hoagies and Wawa Iced Tea (absolute necessity at the beach; Half and Half, diet). We brought 2 liters. We settled in, and then Sara and I went for a swim while Lyra had a snack. Sara and I started chatting with two guys in the ocean and they told us that sting rays were out in full force. We spent 30 minutes chasing waves and we finally saw a huge sting ray in one of the waves! It was amazing, in a #CrocodileHunter way. #RIP. No photos, unfortunately
We headed back to our chairs, put Lyra down for a nap, and cracked open a couple of beers. Perfect day, except I forgot one crucial accessory: SUNSCREEN! I’m not used to being prepared for the beach with chairs etc. When I was in high school, we just pulled up to the beach with a towel I mostly stayed laying on my stomach, usually hungover from the night prior. Now as a full-grown 30-year old, lounging on chairs, I totally forgot to use sunscreen on my stomach and legs!! #HelpMeCoppertone I remembered my shoulders and face, but as you can see (below), my legs turned lobster-red. Oops. Around 4 pm, we were evacuated from the beach due to lightning spotted nearby, and we moved to Sara’s family’s shore house, where we lounged on the deck, ate happy hour snacks, and drank refreshing Portuguese white wine. Lyra helped me put lotion and aloe on, while commenting on how pink my legs were. #NoSh*tSherlock #KidsHaveNoFilter.
Soon enough, the storm caught up to us, so we moved inside, I took a quick shower so I could reapply aloe and protect my poor red legs, and then I had a Duplo-building party with Lyra. Why are large Legos so much more fun than the regular-sized ones? So much less stressful. Also, almost-3-year-olds’ structures are easier to build than the elaborate sets my brother used to make me help with. Soon enough, it was time to sit down to dinner beginning with amazing fresh clams that Sara’s dad Ray had found the day prior. We ate them raw with cocktail sauce and hot sauce. Check out this boomerang of me shooting it.
Lounging on the porch of the shore house. Check out those RED legs (and pre-diet belly!)
Seriously fresh clams.
Ready for some shooters!! BF looks scared!
Sara’s mom, Olga, is an amazing cook. She apologized profusely for “only” cooking what was left in fridge. Well let me tell you, I have never cooked such a great meal even with much preparation! There was fresh corn on the cob, steak, tomato salad, sautéed escarole, and roasted potatoes. YUM! What a great end to our day! I love when I don’t have to cook!
Emoji-Bf and I said goodnight to Lyra and headed back to the train. Unfortunately, there were no express trains and we were a bit delayed, but we eventually got back to NYC. It was pouring rain when we got back to the city and there was not an empty cab in sight. Luckily, I had my sunburned and aching legs with me to remind me of our amazing sun-filled day. Three days later, my legs have faded to light pink, and I already can’t wait to go back (assuming I’m invited)! I will need to stock up on some more Wawa swag to make sure I am needed.
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.
As I write this, I have earbuds in my ears and I have air traffic control headphones on over my earbuds. Am I at an airport directing planes to their gates? FALSE. I am sitting at my desk in my office. While 20 construction workers are literally drilling into the wall outside my window. I can see them. In fact, last week, one of them was texting and I could actually read the words in his text. That’s how close they are. One guy left his iced coffee right outside my coworker’s window yesterday and she almost grabbed it for herself.
Typical morning here at the office.
Taken right after he waved to me. We are friends.
No caption needed.
Just a couple work permits.
Was this construction completely unplanned? No. But does that make it any better? ALSO NO. I did not know when I started working at this non-profit in a seminary that I would be dealing with asbestos warnings posted in the lobby. Nor did I know that I would be learning the very important skill of typing on a keyboard that literally vibrates from a drill as I type. So exciting. I’ve never been within centimeters of a blowtorch before. How enthralling. This is all very thick sarcasm. In case you didn’t catch that.
The access to the elevator on our floor has been cut off for 6 weeks and counting. The original warning email they sent said that “work will proceed in the hallway on Wednesday June 7th.” It went on to say that the elevators would not stop on our floor “while this work is in progress.” At first skim, it looks like it will only be for one day. June 7th. Well here I am on July 20th, and there is no sign of it being finished anytime soon. Now, I know I am a fitness instructor and that these stairs should not be a problem. I take the elevator to another floor, then go up a flight. But after teaching 4 spin classes in 2 days, that single flight of stairs may as well be the Mayan ruins. And the last thing I want to do is three flights of stairs every time I have to use the restroom. I almost cut down on my coffee consumption for this reason. ALMOST.
Speaking of teaching fitness classes, I change clothes at work 3-4 time/week to teach at the gym. Sometimes when I am running late, I use our empty conference room as a changing room. I always make sure the door is locked. But of course I sometimes forget that there are now men scaling the exterior walls of the building. Two weeks ago, one of those men got more than he bargained for while walking outside the conference room on newly-erected scaffolding. No pun intended. Good thing they wear harnesses.
Asbestos Abatement. NBD.
Another one of my good friends.
Anyone need some duct tape?
Another day, another air traffic control look.
The blocked off hallway to the elevator.
The stairs are not even the tip of the iceberg. There is smoke. A lot of it. Here is an actual excerpt of an email I sent the head of Facilities Management:
There is quite a bit of smoke throughout the hallways. It is visible to the eye, it looks like it’s foggy. Also, the fact that the people doing the work are wearing welding masks, and keep walking through the halls, and yet nothing has been done to protect the people working here for 9 hours each day is alarming.
They have repeatedly told us that it is “not dangerous,” but I can’t help but wonder why the workers are wearing masks. And a girl who works on my floor and is pregnant has started to take an alternative stairwell to avoid the smoke. For now, there’s not much I can do, and from what they tell us, it’s only going to get worse. They have barely even broken ground on the new building yet! This is just “prep work.” Kill me. Since I am here for the long haul, I guess I need to get used to wearing air traffic control headgear to the office, and try to be optimistic.
Here are a few positives I can glean from this experience:
I know how to work a blowtorch, simply from my extensive observation.
My calves are lookin’ GREAT from all the stairs.
There’s never a dull moment. The people walking by my office are always carrying fun things: steel beams, piping, insulation, etc. Sometimes all three!
I like to think I make some of these guys’ days when they accidentally see me in various stages of undress.
If I die from asbestos, I can tell my mom to stop worrying about liver cirrhosis from my drinking.
I never have to answer the phone; I can’t hear it ring!
There are a lot of cute guys walking around the building. The rabbis weren’t cutting it.
It makes me more thankful that I have air conditioning, looking at the guys outside sweating (even though we have been instructed not to use the AC on certain days when welding fumes from the scaffolding will be “too intense”).
If you need me, comment below, and don’t call as I will not be able to hear the phone! I’m well on my way to Career #5: Air traffic controller.
What’s your idea of a good workout? A combination of cardio and strength moves utilizing state-of-the-art treadmills and rowers, all while tracking your exertion and heart rate on TV screens? Burning more calories even after you leave the gym? If so, then Orangetheory Fitness is for you.
Orangetheory Fitness is an interval workout backed by science, designed to keep your heart rate in a target zone that spikes metabolism and increases your EPOC or afterburn calories. In theory, the more you can keep your heart in that zone, the more splat points you get (more on that later), and the more calories you will burn after the workout is over. It’s a little complicated, but that Wikipedia link on EPOC explains it pretty well. Nothing like citing to a good Wikipedia article. Erin Andrews (another wiki link) is one of their spokespeople, so obviously it works; look at her! Also, she’s a Gator so I’m biased. Throughout the workout, you wear a heart rate monitor, or you can choose not to, and you can track calories burned, percentage of max heart rate, and OTF “splat points”, based on the amount of time you spend in the orange HR zone. My favorite part of this workout is that the point is not to burn out and go “all out” in the red zone the whole time. You leave feeling like you got an awesome workout, but you don’t leave feeling like you are going to die, or barf in the lobby on the way out. This has happened to me before (cough cough TONEHOUSE).
Anyway, as I mentioned last week, I recently went to OTF with my brother when I went to Washington DC, and we had a blast. One of my best friends from college is a head trainer for OTF and now trains and manages the trainers of the region, so I knew I was in good hands taking her class. This was not my first rodeo, however. I had been to Orangetheory a few times before in three different states: New York, Virginia, and Florida. The cool thing about OTF is that every day, the workout is the same in every studio around the country, so it doesn’t matter if you are traveling often. But even better, the workout is different each day! I have been to a class where they had an endurance day, a class that was a sprint-based power class, and a combo day. I have never been to this thing they call “Tornado Tuesday,” nor do I ever plan to go, because I do not hate myself. HA. Reddit has a glossary of OTF terms if you can’t keep up. Anyway, point of this story is, even though I’ve gone 5 times, I have never been bored.
My first-ever time at Orangetheory, at the Chelsea studio in NYC
My second time at OTF in Arlington, VA
OTF in Boca Raton with my elementary school friend.
When I went with my brother, it added a competition aspect that I did not even know I had in me. My brother is incredibly competitive. I’m talking, “throw a tantrum and leave the table during a game of monopoly” competitive. Me? Not so much. In my 4 previous times at OTF, I had only worn the heart rate monitor once. It is interesting to track and see my statistics after, but it’s not too important for me to watch it during the class. For my brother, though, it was not an option. So I strapped my heart rate monitor on under the strap of my sports bra, and readied myself for a massive competition. My brother has literally run the length of Israel before, whereas I have run one half marathon and sprained my ankle twice in the past 3 months. I was prepared to lose. But I didn’t let him know that!
The workout of the day was pretty complicated to follow, but we warmed up on the rowers, then started with floor exercises, which were demoed on the screens. I mostly followed the screens, but called Julie over to explain a few times. She didn’t treat me like a complete idiot, so that was a plus. I think some other people were lost, too. There were 3 rounds of 3 exercises, and you could pick the order. We used dumbbells, a step, and the TRX to do a combination of moves working all major muscle groups. Then after 25 minutes, we switched to cardio intervals on the treadmill then rower. After the floor section, my brother and I each only had 3 splat points, and the goal is 12-20. As I said above, you get a splat point for each minute you spend training in the orange zone. Clearly we had our work cut out for us on the treadmills.
My brother stared me down from his adjacent treadmill with a look in his eyes that could only be described as, “you’re going down, bitch.” Or maybe it was, “you’re going down, sis,” but either way, he made it clear he was playing to win. And sure enough, I had my eyes on the screen tracking his splat points more than I had my eyes on the treadmill. Probs dangerous, in hindsight. Anyway, my brother skipped his second interval on the rower to add more points and stay on the treadmill, aka HE CHEATED. He swears he just read the workout wrong, which is possible, because, like I said it was pretty complicated, but I choose to say he cheated. Anyway, joke was on him because while he was slaving away on the treadmill at 12.0 MPH, I was at a casual 5.8, and since I’m such a worse runner, my heart rate was the same as his, and soon enough, we were neck and neck at 14 points even. With 2 minutes left of class, I was ahead 17-16, but he caught up with seconds to spare, and we tied at 17 splat points.
Overall, OTF is super fun. I love the idea of having a workout that changes every day because I have a bit of workout A.D.D. and I get bored quickly. Watching your points go up on the screen adds to the feeling of accomplishment, and even though I wish I had beat my brother, I still feel like I had a great workout and left completely sweaty. I worked off at least one of my post-workout-sake-bombs. It was extra fun to have Julie as our instructor because she grew up with my brother too, and felt comfortable egging him on over the microphone. Plus, she always has a fab playlist. I highly recommend checking it out. Most first-timers are free if you’re local. In Manhattan it’s $20 for your first class because everything in this godforsaken city is expensive, but what else is new? It’s $319 unlimited for a month in NYC, which is out of my budget, but if you go 4 times a week, it works out to less than $20/class, which is cheaper than any other studio in NYC. Try it out and see if you can beat my brother’s and my splat points!
This was clearly posed. I was not smiling IRL when I was on the rower.
COACH JULIE!
My bro needs to work on his chest press form.
WE SURVIVED! (Barely).
Arms shaking post-class, she thought we would drop her.
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.
Strap in, this post is a doozy. Last weekend I traveled to Virginia for my cousin’s wedding, and I had a jam-packed 3 days in the Greater Washington D.C. area. I promise to travel to further and more interesting places soon, but for now, this will have to do for the blog.
I arrived on Thursday night, and luckily, my brother, a new DC resident, picked me up from the train station. Unluckily, he was pulled over by the cops on the way, who said that it was illegal to drive through a yellow light. What?! Isn’t that what yellows are for? Anyway, a bit delayed, we changed and went to dinner with his Home Plate Family. What is Home Plate? It’s basically the coolest invention ever, founded and run by the WashU Chancellor’s wife, Risa Zwerling Wrighton. If out of town students at WashU miss home-cooked meals and dinnertime, they can sign up for this program and get matched with a family. My brother’s “family” was even featured on the WashU website 5 years ago! Since my brother was a WashU student for 7 years (8 if you include the gap year), he basically grew up with his “family.” Therefore, we all grew up with them! I have been hearing about my brother’s second mom for almost a decade. He has been attending all of the kids’ recitals, ceremonies, and graduations for years and his “mom” is my favorite part of our family group texts! Anyway, we had a delicious dinner at Lavagna, where I heard about their time at the Newseum, which I absolutely must go to the next time I’m in DC.
After dinner, I met up with a friend from middle/high school, who I hadn’t seen in 3 years. We had a drink and talked for a while, until we realized it was getting late and now we are real adults with jobs and it was a work night. LAME.
Bus to D.C. with Purple Bear, as usual.
Home Plate Family Reunion!
Old friends; we age like fine wine, right?
The next morning, my brother and his gf and I woke up and went to my brother’s favorite bagel place, Bullfrog Bagels. It was ok, but nothing compared to NYC bagels (don’t tell him I said that). I’m spoiled. After barely digesting, we drove out to Arlington to work out at Orangetheory Fitness with my best friend from college. She is the head trainer for the region, and she definitely gave us a workout! My brother and I wore heartrate monitors so we could compete with each other on the screens. More about the actual workout later, I’ll do a full review. Suffice it to say, we left completely drenched in sweat, and she played one of my fav weekend ramp-up songs, Hello Friday by Jason Derulo and Flo Rida. I promptly added it to all of my playlists (FOLLOW ME ON SPOTIFY!). We took about 100 pictures , some below, some saved for my OTF blog review, then we went home to shower. The afternoon was STEAMY hot. We ate Ethiopian food, then had a few sake bombs to stave off heat exhaustion, as one does. The boomerangs were pretty epic.
Coach of the Year!
Arms shaking at this point fo real.
This was before the soreness set in.
We finished packing and headed to the suburb of Reston, VA, where the rest of the wedding weekend popped off. Something to know about my family: we don’t see each other often, but when we do, we have a BLAST! We started Beth and Kenny’s wedding weekend with hors d’ouvres and drinks at American Tap Room, which conveniently was a 3 minute walk from the hotel #DrinksOnDrinksOnDrinks. My uncle put together a slideshow and I had three cameos in it (#winning). I only cried three times. Ok, maybe four. I’m such a sucker for a slideshow! I got to mingle with all of my family, meet some of Kenny’s family for the first time (shoutout to my dance partner Shawna!) and better yet, I got to introduce my mom to the Moscow Mule. Her life is forever changed. We went to Thai food after, because duh, never enough food, and then we went back to the hotel.
Photos are always made better by a Moscow Mule. Or two.
Dance Partners Forever!
The blushing bride and her Grandma, the queen of the dance floor!
Can you see the resemblance?
Cousins!
Meanwhile, my favorite emoji-bf STILL had not arrived! When I got back to the hotel, I found out his flight had been delayed 4 times, then canceled, after he had already been on the plane for an hour! Ultimately, he made it to the hotel by 7 am the next day, without his bag. He took a 3 am Amtrak and managed to piece together a wedding outfit from a tux shirt, a blazer he keeps in his office, and some too-tight slacks (photos below). Don’t worry, we are currently in negotiations for some compensation from Delta. Putting my ESQ. to good use.
Since the bf had barely arrived by the time we were supposed to leave for our Segway tour, I subbed in my brother’s girlfriend for the tour, instead. We had some epic Metro issues; I guess NYC isn’t alone in their #publictransitproblems. But the good news is, we made a new friend on the Metro who we shared an Uber with. Renee, are you out there somewhere? I should have gotten your contact info! Anyway, we embarked on my longest Segway Tour to date, by Bike and Roll DC. We got a Groupon (major tip here for Segway tours), and it was so much fun! Our tour guide Jen was so awesome, I made sure to write a review on Groupon and Trip Advisor. Also, it came with free popsicles and water. We rolled around DC for 2.5 hours with a family from Copenhagen, learning awesome little-known facts and taking a million photos. Did you know, legend has it that the 50 US flags around the Washington Monument were originally supposed to be state flags but the states couldn’t agree on which would be closest to the White House so they are all US flags instead? Did you know that Truman barely got to live in the White House because when he tried to move in, his piano broke through the rotting floor boards? He had to move out while they gutted the whole thing. Some say they approved the plans to add the Truman Balcony (now one of the most-noticeable things on the facade) to commemorate him and make up for the fact that he could barely live there.
Ready to Roll!
Cliché, but so worth it.
Partner in crime.
Our adopted Copenhagen Family. And the Capitol Building.
Lincoln Ussie.
Post-Tour popsicles with our awesome tour guide.
After the awesome Segway tour, we headed back to the hotel for a quick dip in the pool, then got ready for the wedding! We took the shuttle bus to the Stone Tower Winery, which was even prettier than the photos. Really, the pictures do not do it justice. And the sunset… woah. Anyway, I’m getting ahead of myself. I was scared it would be blazing hot (outside wedding in July? NO THANKS), but it wasn’t as bad as I had feared. There was a nice breeze, they had a table with lemon-infused water and champagne to the side of the ceremony, and instead of classic programs, they had the information printed on little fans. Very cute touch.
Bus on the way to the winery. After I did my hair. On a moving vehicle.
Staying cool with water and custom fans.
Blushing MARRIED WOMAN and her wine.
This place really was breathtaking.
My cousin looked absolutely amazing, not that I’m biased or anything 😉 She was walked down the aisle by her mom and dad, which I always find sweet. They asked for no phones out during the ceremony, so no photos of that. Also, they wrote their own vows, which is so much more personal. I was listening intently since I was a rule-follower and had put away my phone. I only cried two more times. Okay, three. The officiant was actually their backup officiant, after a particularly gruesome kickball accident, and he totally killed it. Short, sweet, funny, and he could pronounce both of their names! (Trust, me that is not always the case). Both bride and groom added One Direction lyrics to their vows, which was hilarious and amazing and unplanned. They each broke individual glasses, which was a new tradition I had not seen before, but I liked the concept of not just having the guy do it.
The reception was so much fun. The dance floor was poppin’ (extra shoutout to my 88-year-old grandmother who never left the dance floor), there were glow sticks, there was an open bar, and an outdoor patio if you needed a break from the music. The hora was fun, minus a minor chandelier-tiara-head incident, and the toasts were hilarious. I got to sit with my cousins and next to my aunt and uncle. The craziest thing that happened all night: someone from the same floor of my college dorm, freshman year, 12 years ago, recognized me! She is married to a friend of the groom. Craziest small world ever. Things like that do not happen when you go to a school with over 50,000 students. It was so great to see you, Anna!
The real star of the reception was the fire pit and the DIY s’mores. With Reese’s cups! WHAT!? It was amazing. My emoji-bf informed me that since he was an Eagle Scout, I need not show him how to roast a marshmallow. Excusez-moi. We had a sparkler sendoff for the bride and groom, which was a super fun ending to a great night.
Lessons Learned:
I have too many friends in DC and I need to visit more often (next time Brittany/Davon/Tahon/Kristina!)
Orangetheory will leave me sore for days (ok, already knew that).
Segways are amazing (I knew that too).
I really like my brother’s gf (don’t screw this up, bro!)
I need to get together with my extended family more often.
Weddings in July are not always as hot as you’d fear, with enough champagne.
The GatorNation is Everywhere!
I need to write shorter blog posts.
Family Photo! One of these things is not like the other hahahha
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.
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.
Group shot in front of the amazing Travers Island house.
All You Can Eat. All Day. I think we definitely took full advantage.
Our half-shade spot and out red, white, and blue regalia.
Things under water are smaller than they appear. Maybe.
Never met a theme I didn’t love.
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.
Can you tell she’s Australian? She fully embraces the culture.
Snow cone extravaganza!
Never too old for pure sugar on shaved ice.
The view was spectacular. As was the company!
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!
Gearing up for the show.
These fireworks were RIGHT over our heads!
More fireworks. In case you’ve never seen them before.
Last week I reviewed 305 Fitness, and now, I need to tell you all about my experience with The Dance, another dance-cardio class, emphasis on dance, no emphasis on eating.
My roommate from law school has been capital-O-OBSESSED with this class, and has been raving about it, swearing it’s the most fun and best workout she has had in a long time. I had to try it out, even though at $35/class, I knew it was probably a one-time-thing. It’s held in Studio B, on the third floor of Bandier on 5th Avenue. I was 30 minutes early to class, and having enough self-knowledge to know that I cannot resist buying when I’m around workout clothes, I walked straight up to the studio without passing go, or collecting $200 in debt by shopping in the store on the ground level.
Amanda Kloots, a former Radio City Rockette-turned Broadway performer, created The Dance, as well as The Rope, an all-jump-rope workout, which I was definitely not ready for yet. Amanda was a ray of sunshine from the moment she walked in the room. She is about 6’1”, all legs and abs and blonde fitness-model physique. And that Rockette smile training did not fail her. How intimidating. She was a ball of energy, and her smile was intoxicating #nohomo. I had scoped out her Instagram (@amandakloots) before the class to see what I was up against and what I should wear. Most of the people were wearing crop tops, which was definitely not going to happen after my #30Years30IceCreams binge last month, so I decided for the exact opposite: a not-so-subtle tank top I received as a gift, that said “I Run For Ice Cream.” Fact, but embarrassing.
When I walked into class, I realized my epic wardrobe fail. Not only did I look like I had eaten ONE HUNDRED ice creams on my way over compared to everyone else, I was advertising it on my shirt! I was pretty sure I was the only one who had eaten all day in that room. Oh well. I guess I should have expected it from my Instagram pre-research. My friend insisted that I not go to the back row, so I sucked it up (literally, I was sucking in my stomach as much as I could), and readied myself for some dance.
I will admit, I am generally pretty coordinated. Both of my parents dance (they met in an international folk dance troupe!), I took classes in ballet, jazz, tap and Irish dance from the age of 2, til I was 12, AND my favorite fitness class to teach is step aerobics. However, I would never consider myself a “dancer.” This class was COMPLICATED! She taught the combos quickly and assumed you would catch on. I later learned that she does a lot of the same routines over again, which made me feel better because I was wondering how everyone was so much better than me! I guess I will have to go back (and spend another $35) to hone my The Dance skillz. This must be how they earn their money! There was only one prescribed water break during the whole class, which meant the cardio kept coming at me!
In summary: this class was a BLAST. I got a great sweat on, I learned fun dances, I shook my butt to Bootylicious, and every time I caught my reflection in the mirror, I had a huge smile on my face. My self-consciousness was all in my head, and Amanda definitely made me feel welcome, despite the fact that I was the size of a Tonka Truck compared to her Hot Wheels car-sized body. She even came over after class and asked if I was new, introduced herself, and told me I was “cute” because I was smiling the whole time. I didn’t admit that half of the time it was because I was laughing at myself as I was 3 beats behind. I would recommend this class to anyone with impeccable coordination, stamina, and rock-hard abs. Or substitute the rock-hard abs with unwavering self-confidence, and you will be good to go. As Amanda would say, #JumpSkipSmile!
