Saturday night I went to see Hamilton. If you’ve been living
under a rock and you haven’t heard of it, it’s a musical on Broadway. According
to Wikipedia, “in
2016, Hamilton received a record-setting 16 Tony nominations, winning 11,
including Best Musical, and was also the recipient of the 2016 Grammy Award for
Best Musical Theater Album and the 2016 Pulitzer Prize for Drama.” So yeah, it’s
sort of a big deal. And since it’s such a big deal it’s semi-impossible to get
tickets. For example, on Ticketmaster right now, the cheapest seat is $448. Per
person.
To be honest, there are some serious Hamilton-heads out
there who know every single lyric and even go to themed-spin classes with the
songs. I am not one of them. Or I wasn’t. In fact, I didn’t even
know any of the music before this weekend. Except the one song performed on the Tony’s.
I always knew I wouldn’t have the money to go to see it on Broadway so I
figured, why bother trying to know the songs?
My best friend was in town over the weekend from Seattle
because her boyfriend bought tickets to Hamilton on presale OVER A YEAR AGO. He
flew from Seattle to see it! He had 4 tickets, and at the last minute, one of
the people going to the show canceled. I told him I would advertise the ticket
on my Facebook so he wouldn’t lose the money. My brother, the protagonist of
this whole story, LOVES Hamilton. He has seen it on tour, but never in NYC. He saw
my Facebook status and texted me asking why I wasn’t going. He said “do you
know the music? Is money the only thing holding you back?” He knows my student loan
situation. I was about to text him back when I heard phone “CHA-CHING!” and
I saw that he Venmo-ed me the money for the ticket!! I texted him back my
extreme gratitude and deleted my Facebook post advertising it to anyone else –
I WAS GOING!
HE’S THE BEST!!
I called my brother, so he could tell me his favorite songs,
and I got to listening! I had 24 hours to learn a VERY
LONG soundtrack. Literally, there are 46 songs. I listened to the songs all
day Saturday and by the evening, I had a better idea of what would go on. The
play was LONG. But it didn’t seem like it! The lyrics are fast, since most of
the songs are rapped, and my brother had warned me I would probably not
understand all of the lyrics. However, maybe it’s the decades of listening to
rap, but I understood a lot of it! The music is super catchy and I’ve been listening
to it ever since.
Mandatory pre-show marquee pic!
Playbill pic.
THE ROOM WHERE IT HAPPENS!
In our seats waiting for an amazing show!
Besties on Broadway.
The coolest part of the story, if this isn’t cool enough
already, is that my best friend’s boyfriend and his brother, went to school
with the musical director, Kurt
Crowley. They’re from Helena, Montana, and not too many people are from
there, so they kept in touch. Kurt stayed after the show and let us onto the
stage to talk with us about the show, and to take photos. There were actors
from the show all around us on stage signing Playbills, but since I didn’t know
the cast well, I didn’t ask for any signatures. We did get some awesome pics,
though! And it’s an amazing experience to be on a Broadway stage, looking out
at the theater; it’s not as big as you’d think! We took some more photos, and
then left. We hadn’t realized that more than 3 hours had passed! A testament to
a great show is that there can be nearly three hours of FAST speaking, and it
seems quick.
Full cast post-show, asking for donations for something (I wasn’t paying attention when they started asking for more money)
I feel the need to end this post with some serious cliché’s –
it was such an incredible experience to be IN THE ROOM WHERE IT HAPPENED IN THE
GREATEST CITY IN THE WORLD! I recommend it to anyone who has the money, or a
SUPER SWEET BROTHER with the funds. THANK YOU AGAIN, BABY BRO!
I love surprises. I don’t understand people who don’t. Why would anyone not like the suspense and excitement behind someone planning something for you!? It’s the best! Thankfully, my mystery (emoji) boyfriend knows this. I mean, he better, it’s been a while, ya know? In honor of Valentine’s Day, here’s a blog about one of the best surprises he’s pulled off.
He has taken me on many mystery date nights before. From random restaurants he has found, to dinner at a restaurant I love but he doesn’t, and even to row 4 tickets of a Broadway show! You may remember that he even took me to a staycation once in a hotel room that overlooked the freedom tower. I know, I know, I bagged a good guy, here. Well, not to gloat, but he outdid himself. This time he planned a whole getaway!
I went to Washington DC for MLK weekend, and since I was
going to be away all weekend, he asked me what I was doing the next weekend. I
assumed he wanted to Netflix and chill, because we are old and that’s the usual
date night for us. But then he asked me what my plans were for all weekend, and I knew he had something
up his sleeve! I told him I’d reserve the weekend for him. The next Friday, I
packed an overnight bag, and we walked 4 blocks to Avis. He had told me that
Amtrak was too expensive (it generally is, if you only book a week in advance),
so he rented a car instead. I had no clue which way we were going until we got
on the west side highway toward the George Washington Bridge and realized we
were going north.
I wish I could tell you I figured it out then, but I didn’t.
Plus, with traffic, we were barely out of the Bronx an hour later. And then I
had to pee. Word to the wise: don’t drink coffee before a road trip. We had to
stop at McDonalds for a pit stop and a few Chicken Selects. Because duh. We
finally arrived at our destination at 10:15 pm, thankful for the fast food
sustenance along the way.
We were in Hudson, New York! Not Hudson Valley, Hudson Hudson. I knew we were driving
for a while, but I didn’t realize how far it was until our Uber driver later
told us he lived in Albany. I gasped and said “wow, you must have taken a long
trip to get here!” And he told me it was 40 minutes. Woops.
Unfortunately, we arrived so late that only two restaurants
in town were open, so we took an uber to one of them, and had drinks and
appetizers. The food was good, but we were exhausted. We went back to The Wick,
where we were staying, and fell asleep within minutes.
Thank goodness for these drinks after a long drive!
Hudson, New York is home to a very quaint strip of
restaurants and stores, and is supposedly a food destination. This is why my
emoji man chose it for our getaway. What he didn’t know, is that it is also
home to Etsy headquarters. I happen to have a good friend from the gym who
works for Etsy, and she spends a good amount of time in Hudson. As soon as she
saw I was there (because if you don’t Instagram it, it didn’t happen), she started
sending me recommendations. Funnily enough, when she goes to Hudson for work,
she stays in the same hotel we were in! She told us the best food and drink
spots around town, and we took one of her recommendations, Le Merche, for
brunch. She did not lead us astray! This place was fab. I had an egg sandwich
on SUPER fresh bread, and my bf had the Croque Madame, which was delicious,
fresh, and HUGE. I tried it, of course. And the side of potatoes… let’s just
say that the food was so good I barely had time to take a photo of it. And we
all know how rare that is.
My delicious breakfast sandwich on freshly baked bread.
The rest of afternoon I spent doing nothing, while my bf worked. I asked him before we left if he was sure he wanted to go away with so much work to do, and he assured me that he did, and a change of scenery would be nice. Meanwhile, I read a book and styled my hair 5 different ways. I need to keep creating content for Braid in Manhattan to keep my followers happy! Also, my bf is becoming quite the insta-husband. He is so great at taking hair photos! I told he better be careful or I’ll make him go full-time.
So many hairstyles.
And even more hair pics.
Spot my gray hairs?
Emoji man loves to take pics when I’m not ready.
After many hours of blissfully doing nothing, we went to
dinner at W.M. Farmer & Co., which we heard was the SPOT. In fact, every
online article about food in Hudson mentioned this as the best restaurant. We
made a reservation. Unfortunately, we are underwhelmed. The food, although farm
to table, and not bad, was not
overwhelmingly good, and it was very expensive, even for people from Manhattan.
The one remarkable part was the cocktails. I would recommend this place to
anyone looking for a GREAT drink. We each had two and were very impressed.
Since the only reservation available was at 6:30 pm, we had
plenty of time after dinner to mill around. Unfortunately, it was 20 degrees
outside, so we speed walked to a bar my friend had recommended. It seemed like
a cool vibe, but the inside was very smoky (maybe because they are famous for a
mezcal slushy?) and we decided it was too much for us. We went to a bar next
door and had a beer. Then, surprisingly, after a day of doing absolutely
nothing but eating, we were tired and went back to the hotel. We watched
Marvelous Mrs. Maisel in bed and went to sleep. We really are an ancient
couple. But that bed was so comfy!! I just love a king size bed. Someday when I
move out a shoebox NYC apartment, I’m going to get one of my very own!
The next morning, we packed up and got ready to leave. The
life of a man in finance means work on a Sunday, so we had to get back to the
city. However, we needed sustenance first! Thankfully, my friend offered a
final breakfast recommendation 10 minutes outside of Hudson, Gracie’s
Luncheonette in the Catskills. We went from watching
Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, to pretty much being in an episode of our own. We ate
more delicious food and got a freshly-made donut for the road. We tried to
leave quickly, because it started to snow as we ate. Not just flurry, but SNOW!
I’m from Florida, and my bf is from Texas, so neither of us are too used to
driving in a white-out. Thankfully, he took the wheel and I handled the donut.
I’m pretty talented at feeding the driver, if I do say so myself.
We took toll roads back to the city, and got back within 2
hours! My bf dropped off the luggage and me, then returned the car, and I
settled back into regular life and meal prep. Overall, it was a great 42-hour
getaway with plenty of food and relaxation, and time with my better half. I
have to keep reminding him of how much fun it was, so he knows to plan more
surprises for the future! I promise to keep you guys posted. Do you have any
fun mystery date ideas? Do you know my mystery man behind the emoji? Send him a
text with an idea!
Morning Catskill Kisses in the Snow.
Evening FREEZING stroll. Doesn’t my bf look cold? 😉
When you think of the New York nightmare, many things may come to mind: Losing your monthly MetroCard the day after you buy it, being late to an interview and the next train is in 16 minutes, going into the hottest subway car without AC in mid-August, moving to a great apartment in Williamsburg and finding out the next day that the L is going to stop running there for 7 months to a year… and those are all just nightmares related to the subway! But everyone can agree that the absolute worst fear of every New York Resident is one, four-millimeter insect: the bed bug.
First, a history. A few weeks ago, my sweet emoji boyfriend got a bug bite on his wrist. He decided it was different than any other bug bite because it itched so much. So in the middle of a work day, he texted me “I think we have bed bugs.” I have a visceral fear of any bug, not to mention the ones that may live inside my bed, so of course, I FREAKED OUT. I told him he should never mention the B-word again, especially when I was at work and there was nothing I could do about. I also told him that he only had one bug bite on his arm and he needed to “take a chill pill” and realize it was probably a mosquito bite. (I’m a very sweet and kind girlfriend, clearly.) Emoji-bf checked the bed, and he found nothing.
Fast-forward five days, he woke up and he had three bug bites, one of which was on the top of his leg, where his boxers cover. He INSISTED now that we had bed bugs. I was definitely more swayed, since bed bugs tend to bite in a line*, and now he had more than one. (*Sidenote: I know more about bed bugs now, like their biting pattern, than I EVER wanted to know.) At this point, I was sufficiently scared, and I texted the super to get the exterminator in the house. The exterminator came, took apart the bed, turned the couch upside-down, and found nothing.
My bf was pissed and itchy, though. So, we switched the sheets to be safe. We threw out our rug in the bedroom after shaking it out into the bathtub and finding nothing. We took our down comforter to the dry cleaners. We got bed bug glue traps. We got supersonic plug-in bug killers. We got a massive bug trapper with black light. But still… nothing. And I mean NOTHING. I made him check the traps every day because I was terrified of seeing one, and there was not a single one.
Fast-forward 2 days, let me set the scene. Sunday morning, 6 am. I woke up because every light was on our room. I heard my bf packing a bag, throwing things in from his closet.
Me, sleepily: “Are you running away from home?”
Him, strangely: “No, I just figured I would go shower at Equinox, and go to my office.”
Me, confused: “You do know it’s Sunday?”
Him, still strangely: “Yes, um, I’ll be back later.”
Me, very tired: “Ok, well if you’re going to keep the lights on, can you get me an eye mask? I don’t have to be up for 2 more hours.”
Him, hesitantly holding the eye mask and not giving it to me: “Well… I’m not sure if I should tell you this or not but… I found one. I found a bed bug.”
Me, jumping out of bed: “Are you sure? Where? Are you really sure? What did it look like? How many? Are you SURE?”
Him: “Yes, I’m sure. It was ON me. And I got a video. Incontrovertible evidence.”
Me: “That’s a big word for a Sunday morning at 6 am. But let’s get the fuck out of here.”
Well guys, it was Sunday, so unfortunately that meant the exterminators don’t work. Fun fact. But I felt like I had been evicted from my home. I packed a bag for the day, and went with Emoji-bf to his office to wait until I had to teach my Spin class. Then I carefully taught my class and did not put my belongings near anyone or touch anything besides my own bike. I felt like I had an STD. I finished class and began texting and telling anyone I had come in contact with in the previous two weeks, or anyone who had contact with my house. My bf group-texted my super and me with the video of the bug, which I refused to watch. I mentally prepared myself for weeks and months of sleep filled with bug nightmares. I evacuated my house and walked around Central Park for hours. I walked 30,769 steps that day. That’s 14 miles. But who’s counting?
Beautiful view, terrible circumstances.
Thankfully, our super lives in the apartment below us, and he was equally as terrified as we were. He insisted that the exterminator checked on Friday and found nothing. And we insisted that we believed him, but also directed him to watch the video of incontrovertible evidence. Our super directed us to put every piece of fabric: bedding, curtains, towels, pillows, sheets, clothing, into plastic bags and to seal them. He gave us 40 bags, and we used them all.
Every fabric in our house… in bags.
Me: sitting on the kitchen (the only safe space) while waiting for the exterminator.
At first, I think my bf took the video just to prove the existence of the bug to me, but it came in handy. The super made an appointment for an exterminator for the next day, at which time I showed the video yet again (without ever watching it, still terrified), and he confirmed that it was, in fact, a bed bug. ONE. SINGULAR. BUG. Again, he insisted that he had been there on Friday and had not seen anything, but “better safe than sorry.” I cannot tell you how many times I have uttered that phrase in the past two weeks. “Do we need to worry about our shoes?” “Better safe than sorry!” “Should we throw out our hangers?” “Better safe than sorry!” “Do we need to spray our electronics?” “Can’t do that, but you should vacuum any small openings just in case.” “Better safe than sorry!”
The exterminator answered my questions for approximately 45 minutes, and then proceeded to put on a massive HAZMAT-type suit to begin the spraying process. I wish I took a photo of him, but it seemed weird. He kept trying to tell me stories of “worse situations” he had seen, and I kept cutting him off. Example:
Exterminator: “This one time, I was at a house with a massive infestation (worst word ever when hearing BB stories) and when I took the mattress off…”
Me: “PLEASE STOP FOR THE LOVE OF GOD I BELIEVE YOU BUT I DON’T WANT TO KNOW.”
Anyway, he sprayed the house and instructed us not to come back for at least 4 hours. “6 hours if you can, better safe than sorry!”
I didn’t come back for 10 hours. That night, our super kept the laundry room open for us overnight so we could run every fabric in our house through the dryer. He let us do it at night because we could use all of the machines, and also because he didn’t want anyone else in the building to know about the bug and cause mass hysteria.
*Fun Bed Bug Fact!* They don’t die in water, but they die in heat. You must high-heat or steam everything to kill them. We did so much drying and plastic bag carrying. We learned the perfect way to open plastic bags directly into dryers to make sure that no bed bugs fall on the floor. Then we re-bagged everything into NEW plastic bags, because the exterminator was coming BACK! A second, bonus round of spraying was included in our “treatment” for a week later. We were told to separate one bag each of clothes we would need for the next two weeks, and to keep the other things sealed in bags until the ordeal was over so we didn’t have to re-dry everything a second time. We finally finished at 1 am, and thankfully, my bf had gotten us a hotel room on the next block because I couldn’t stand one more day without sleep. Then again, who knows if hotel beds in NYC are any better, bed-bug-wise…
SO. MUCH. LAUNDRY. (and note the Amazon Now bags full of detergent.
2 weeks later, I can say with absolute certainty that I have NEVER done so much laundry in my LIFE. In fact, as I sit here in my living room on my laptop that came out of a sealed trash bag, looking at the remaining 4 plastic bags of things that I haven’t put away yet because I am waiting for our new hangers to come from Amazon, I can tell you that I have never experienced anything so terrible. I am sitting on my couch in a tank top, fearing for my arms and fearing that there may be any bugs left. Every night, I go to sleep fearing that maybe there was one more. Maybe it was hiding. We bought special bed bug protectors that we zipped our mattress and box spring in and we zip-tied them shut. I have changed our sheets 5 times in the past 2.5 weeks. I am still working on putting clothes back in my dresser from bags, boxes, and laundry bags.
Did I mention the best part??? THE EXTERMINATOR DIDN’T FIND ANY OTHER BUGS. NONE. THERE WAS JUST ONE. He told me when he first came to the house that it was “very common” for there to be one or two and no more, but, “better safe than sorry!” He said you can pick one up on clothes from buses, trains, subways, taxis, Ubers, movie theaters, or from other people rubbing against you. He said it could come from anyone, you, your spouse, your friends, your cleaning lady. He said it could come from bags put on the floor, bags put near other bags, from luggage, from airports or from hotels. Basically, NO ONE IS SAFE AND NOWHERE IS SAFE. And if that doesn’t make you fear for your life and the safety of your home, I don’t know what will. If you guys wake up with nightmares of bed bugs tomorrow, let me know. And take some solace in the fact that I probably woke up from them as well.
Recently, there have been so many problems with the MTA and public transit that I don’t even feel like talking about it anymore. Check my twitter, it’s littered with tweets about the terrible trains. Examples:
Also, if you missed my post about the non-air-conditioned subway of death, check it out. Anyway, enough about the actual trains, for today, I’d like to talk about the PEOPLE I hate on the subway and in the subway station. I try not to do too many “list” posts, but it is required here. This is in no way an exhaustive list; I hate a lot more people.
People who don’t know how to use a Metrocard. Fine, I hate tourists, you caught me. But is it really that hard? Not too fast, not too slow, swipe it just right. It’s like the Goldilocks of the metrocard swipe. And for those of you who swipe the card with the magnetic strip up?? I have no words. Have you ever used a credit card? A debit card? A food stamps card? What good will it do if the magnetic strip is NOT IN THE READER?! If you tried twice and you haven’t figured it out, step out of the way, I’ve got places to be!
People asking for money. I could do a whole post on this one, but I’ll start with my least two favorite categories:
Special category of hatred: SHOWTIME. We know it, we’ve seen it; even the MTA has ads that try to combat these juvenile hooligans that believe the subway is their training center for acrobatics. I happen to like my eyes. Both of them. My nose too. I’d like to keep them intact, and your flying cartwheels are making me think I will not keep them that way.
Special category of hatred: man with a drum. This guy pulls out a massive drum, sets it on the floor and starts to retell some long history of drumming. Do I care? No. Has the long history changed since last week? Also no. Here’s the main problem with this particular busker, the drum is LOUD and it shakes the ground! I am here trying to read after a 12 hour day and I really do not need to have my head literally pulsating with each of his drum beats.
People who put a cigarette behind their ear the minute the train pulls into the station. I do not need to see that advertised. Also, you’re a bad influence for the children. There are a lot more fun ways to die than self-induced lung cancer via cigarettes. Is it that difficult to wait 2 full minutes until you exit the train and go up the stairs? Or will it take you 4 minutes to ascend due to decreased lung capacity? Either way, just wait. And while you’re at it, pull up an old D.A.R.E. commercial on Youtube.
Manspreaders. You have something between your legs. We get it.
Smelly People. Do I really need to elaborate here? Shower and WEAR DEODORANT. It’s really that simple. Obviously I know there is nothing you can do about sweating. It’s 100+ degrees outside. It happens. But please do the rest of your fellow commuters a favor and shower daily. It should be a prerequisite before the subway turnstile. Not sure who would want the job of sniffer enforcer though…
People who try to get into the subway car before letting people out. I know, I know, you don’t want to miss your train. But where do you think you’re going to stand if you don’t let people off? Common courtesy here. And here’s a little known fact: they actually won’t leave the station if you’re still boarding the train. This is not Japan. Calm down.
People with baby strollers that are so large I can fit in them. Y’all. I am 5’11” and I should not be able to fit in your stroller. If your baby needs a stroller, they should be small enough that your stroller need not take up half of the car. If you can afford a $3,000 baby-mobile/miniature car, then grab a cab. Did you run out of money buying the stroller? Then trade it in. I hear ebay has a great black market.
People whose loose hair touches me. Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew. I have literally offered someone a hair tie before. It is JULY for god’s sake. Please, just tie it up. I am so happy for you that you took your biotin and niacin and your hair is silky smooth, but GET IT OFF OF ME. It is sticking to my sweaty arms and that is not fun for either of us.
That is my non-exhaustive list for now. I have many more people I hate, it depends on the day. Do you have any other particular categories you’d like to hear my thoughts on? Let me know below in the comments.
It’s that time again. Every year, 9 days after my birthday, is my law school graduation anniversary. Ironically, it’s the day after D-Day. Now, it may be a bit dramatic to compare my freedom from law to the freedom of the world and rescue by the Allied Forces, but whatevs. It’s the same for me.
If you read my post last year about being a Recovering Attorney, you’d know I was only working in law for 11 months, even though it felt like much longer. I have finally gotten to a point in my life where I don’t mention being a lawyer when I introduce myself, or when people ask me what I do for a living. Let’s be honest, in New York, it’s the first question out of anyone’s mouth after “What’s your name?” New Yorkers love to ask questions, and in general, we are more brutally honest than in other cities. It is not uncommon to hear 20 people at a party boasting about how they can’t afford their rent. They include figures about their electricity bill, their broker’s fee, everything.
I used to feel like I needed to mention I “used to be a lawyer” when asked what I did for a living. I stopped mentioning it for a few reasons. First of all, the longer ago I quit, the more fake it felt to mention it. I only practiced law in earnest for under a year, so a year after I quit, it seemed silly to mention it. And if you add in the three years I was in school, it was still only 4 years total. I felt it was time to stop mentioning it. But for a while, I still did. If you recall from my blog last year, there are only two good things about being a lawyer: the money, and saying you’re a lawyer. I had already given up the mulah (more on that later), and I guess I wasn’t ready to give up the “prestige” that comes with the title.
Despite my conscious decision to stop mentioning my history as an attorney, it’s often an inevitable topic because it’s tied to so many other questions: How did you end up working for rabbis? Why did you move to New York? Why did you live in Brooklyn before Manhattan? Etc. etc. etc. All answers lead back to law school and lawyering. But unfortunately, the questions don’t end there. I told you, New Yorkers love intrusive questions. Inevitably, once I tell someone I used to be a lawyer, it leads to more questions. For my 5-year-law-iversary, (or 4-year-non-law-iversary), I will tackle some of the FAQ’s I receive. I’m really writing this blog for my future self. In the future, when people ask me unending questions, I’ll just give them this URL.
Really? You used to be a lawyer?
For some reason, this is always the first question. Do people think I’m lying? Is this something funny that people do? Do they think Ashton Kutcher is going to come out and say “JK Emily is Punking You?” I have no clue. I always find this a strange question. I guess some people find it unbelievable. The funny part about people thinking it is unbelievable, is that it’s actually quite common. I have read many times that close to 40% of people with law degrees do not practice law. In fact, some people pair this question right afterward with the statement that they know another person who also quit law.
Plainly speaking, I am not alone. And yet people always ask me this question. Maybe it’s because my “personality” does not lend itself to being a good lawyer. I have heard this many times, too. I try not to be offended by that. What in the world does that mean? I’m not smart enough? That can’t be the case. I graduated law school in the top third of my class, I wrote on the top law journal, I took (and passed) two state Bar Exams… so what is it? When I try to rationalize this in my head, I decide to interpret it that I am too nice. Lawyers are mean, blood-sucking people. (Ok, I exaggerate slightly). This brings me to the second question I am always asked:
Why did you quit?
I could honestly write about this in a post itself. I’ll do a cursory list instead, and maybe fill it in for a 6-year anniversary post in 2019:
The people are mean.
I prefer fulfilling work.
I don’t like to work on the weekend.
I don’t like leaving work with the feeling that I’ve ruined people’s lives.
The people are really mean.
Even waterproof mascara runs after you have been crying for 8 hours.
What did your parents think when you told them you were going to quit?
This is sometimes the third question, but sometimes, it’s the first. I find this incredibly strange as a 31-year-old. Most parents had their own children by now. Some of them had careers they chose to quit for child-rearing purposes. So, shouldn’t they understand if I chose to quit, simply to go to another job? It’s not like I became a hobo. More importantly, aren’t parents supposed to say, “I don’t care what you do, as long as you’re happy?” In theory.
Two days ago, I had this conversation with a woman in her 50’s, and she said exactly that: “I know I’m supposed to say I only care if my kids are happy, but honestly, I don’t know what I’d think.” Here’s the deal: If you have a kid who is so miserable that she calls you crying every day, eventually you’ll agree that she needs to find another path. And that is exactly what happened with my parents. When I told them after 3 months that I was looking to leave the law firm, I don’t think they were thrilled. They gave me a lot of lines about “sticking it out,” and “I’m sure it will get better.” But as the months dragged on and I was more and more miserable, the tears increasing, the misery palpable, and the innumerable job applications unanswered, they finally came around. It didn’t take too many crying lunchtime calls before they realized it was probably best that I left. In fact, they even supported my idea of moving back in with them. It was not my first choice, but with my lease ending and my patience running low, it seemed like a good idea, even though I had not lived with them in 9 years.
It also helped that none of their money went into my law school education or housing, so they couldn’t say I squandered anything monetary. Sure, I squandered three years of my life, but NBD.
I should also note that I have very supportive parents. I’m not sure if every other parent out there would have been thrilled with my decision, but there also comes a point in your life where you have to make yourself happy first. I was lucky that in improving my own life, my parents had my back. Plus, now I work for rabbis. They couldn’t be more thrilled (and hysterical every time I bring up a Jewish holiday or Yiddish word).
I’m always completely honest on my blog, so I’ll admit I did not even make half of that as a lawyer. My salary was $84K (including a $1K bonus), and that was before taxes. So the reality is, I don’t make that much less now, percentage-wise. And if you were to divide that by hours worked, I make MUCH MORE now that I work in the non-profit sector (LOL again). So I do miss the money, but it wasn’t much money to begin with. It certainly was not enough money to buy my life and happiness. Don’t get me wrong, a certain amount of money may have bought me happiness, but $84K in NYC is chump change. #NotWorthIt
Also, since my student loans are income-based, I was paying more in loans. That brings me to the next question I’m often asked:
When will you pay off your loans?
GURL. I have no idea. The good news is, I now work in the non-profit sector, so I am a very eager participant in the Public Service Loan Forgiveness program. I wrote an entire blog SERIES about my loans last fall, and I wrote one post in the series about how I am paying them back. If I continue in non-profit, and if I continue to make income-based payments, the rest of my loans will be forgiven in 6 years and 2 months. If I do not continue in non-profit, or if the PSLF program is rescinded, that will not happen.
Also, please note that I said my loans will be forgiven, not that I will pay them off. The answer to when I will pay them off is: NEVER. They are literally growing every month. So yeah. Not happening anytime soon. Good news: they are discharged at death.
Do you miss it?
I already said this, but I did not enjoy anything about lawyering. I enjoyed SAYING I was a lawyer, but I never interacted with people because I was always at work, and the people at work already knew I was a lawyer, so no need to tell them. The other thing I sometimes miss is dressing up. It always felt like dress-up to me. But I did dry-cleaning last week for the first time in 3 years, and I definitely do not miss those bills.
Will you ever go back?
People ask me this all the time. And it’s usually the last question before I curtail the conversation with a swift and resounding NO. Last year, I recounted a conversation with my boyfriend about how likely it was that I return to law. I said 90% no, and he said he thought it would be 97% no. At this point, I think I am a 99% no. I would possibly go back in-house at a firm to do recruiting and career development, but not as a lawyer.
That covers most of the questions I receive. Do you have any others? I’m pretty much an open book at this point. The other question I get, obviously from people who don’t know me, is “should I go to law school.” I already covered this extensively, but, RUN. RUN AWAY FROM IT AS FAST AND AS FAR AS YOU CAN.
Have a great summer, and as you enjoy your time at the beach and in the park, think of all the lawyers slaving away in their recirculated air offices. Even on a Sunday.
I am in the middle of 9+1. 9+1… what?? You may ask. But no, this is not an adjective, it’s a noun. 9+1 is a right of passage. A task. A goal. A triumph. A calling. Maybe not that last one.
In short, 9+1 is a journey to the TCS NYC Marathon. I have always wanted to run the NYC Marathon. Ok, not always, but for the 8 years I’ve lived in New York. I love Marathon Day. I have written extensively about it on my blog. I love waking up early to watch coverage on TV. I’m currently live-streaming the Boston Marathon at my desk! I lovee to watch and I love being a spectator. I love making signs, I love cheering people on. And I love the idea of running through the 5 boroughs of my city, with the streets closed to traffic, and thousands of my fellow residents cheering each other on in a feat that pushes your body to the brink of disaster. I never wanted to run a marathon. But I always wanted to RUN NEW YORK. Here’s the issue: It’s impossible to get in.
There are a few ways to get into the largest marathon in the world, and there are fewer ways now than there were before. Here are your choices to subject yourself to 26.2 miles of pain and agony.
Lottery! I have tried this for years. 5 to be exact. I never get in. Cue the fb status about losing the lottery, then cue the many people who think they are hilarious in commenting about whether you are really “losing” or “winning” by not getting to run 26.2 miles. There are actually three separate lotteries, depending on where you live. The one for NYC residents is notoriously impossible to win. I considered waiting to run it until I moved out of New York, but that seemed counterintuitive.
3 strikes and you’re in. If you apply to the lottery and lose 3 years in a row, you get in. This rule was thrown out because too many people were denied entry for many years.
Repeat Runners. Runners who finish their 15th New York City Marathon will continue to be eligible for guaranteed entry in future years. These people are crazy.
Time qualify: For women in my age group, this means finishing a half marathon in 1:32. If you read about my only Half Marathon last year, you’d know I was not even close.
Ask your friends and family for a buttload of money to give to charity, all so you can run. You need to raise at least $2,500, but some charities may require more. I’m not a fan of this. Both the asking, and the giving so that I can do something crazy to my body, possibly injure myself, then blame my friends and family for sponsoring me. Not an option.
That leaves the 6th and final option: Become a member of the New York Road Runners for a full year, complete at least nine NYRR-scored, qualifying races, and volunteer for one. If you really hate volunteering, NYRR gives you an option to donate $1,000 to NYRR’s youth and community services programs instead.
I opted to do the 9+1 volunteer option, because A. I’m poor and B. I’m poor. Also, after running so many NYRR races, I was tempted to check out what it was like from the other, volunteer side. Who are these crazy people standing in the freezing cold, in fluorescent vests, handing me cups of water? Turns out I am one of those people. In fact, I just completed my “+1” over the weekend, and I promise to write a full blog entry about that soon.
But more on the 9 part of the 9+1. I mentioned I was poor (in fact, I think I mentioned it multiple times), but each one of these races cost money. Not to mention, even if you complete the 9+1, you still need to pay for the actual marathon entry, which is about $250. The 9+1 is just to received guaranteed entry. Before I embarked on this journey, I did my research. i.e. I read some blogs about how much this thing would actually cost me. Answer: A lot.
But there was a method to my madness. I did some planning to try and save money, save my muscles, and also save some sweat.
First, I had to become a NYRR member. I have been a member for years, so I renewed my membership for $40. Luckily, each race has a discounted price for members, so I took advantage of that. Also, I tried to be smart about my races by signing up early, and getting in on early bird pricing. Usually, early bird only saves about $5-$10, but when you multiply that by 9, it adds up! Longer races cost more money, which makes sense since they include more support staff, more security, and also sometimes a medal! I tried to cut down on costs by picking SHORT races. I also tried to cut down on blisters and sore muscles that way. I have already signed up for my 9+1 (early bird gets the worm!), here’s my racing schedule, distance, and cost. I set up a handy chart:
Date
Race
Distance
Price
1
2/4/2018
Gridiron
4 miles
$23.00
2
2/24/2018
Al Gordon Brooklyn
4 miles
$23.00
2
3/4/2018
Washington Heights Salsa, Blues, and Shamrocks
5K
$31.00
3
4/8/2018
Boomer’s Cystic Fibrosis Run to Breathe
4 miles
$23.00
4
4/22/2018
Run as One
4 miles
$23.00
5
4/29/2018
UAE Healthy Kidney
10K
$23.00
6
6/3/2018
Italy Run by Ferrero
5 miles
$23.00
7
6/9/2018
New York Mini
10K
$35.00
8
6/23/2018
Front Runners New York LGBT Pride Run
5 miles
$23.00
9
8/25/2018
Percy Sutton Harlem
5K
$30.00
TOTALS
40.6 miles
$257.00
So far I am at $257 in race entry fees, and $40 in annual membership fees. And of course that does not even touch on the amount of money spent on sneakers and carb-loading. 3 days of pasta prep are needed for a 3 mile race, right? Isn’t that why we really run?
This may seem like a lot of money to some people, but in New York, a workout class can easily run you $40 a pop. If you divide that total figure by $40, it’s really only 6 classes at Barry’s Bootcamp or SLT. Not bad considering you get a free shirt (or gloves, or other paraphernalia) each time!
I hate running when it is hot outside. therefore, I tried to front-load my races for the year to be during the cooler months. However, I worried about running out of races as the year comes to a close. The races tend to fill up and sell out as the year progresses, mostly due to thousands of 9+1-ers like me. Also, I worried that I would injure myself and not be able to finish off my 9 races. That is how I ended up running 3 races in June. Sweatzilla in full effect. I will definitely be stopping at all fluid stations for those babies. Thank you in advance to the volunteers handing me water!
You may have noticed one of my races on my chart was crossed off. I may have forgotten it was a Saturday race and slept straight through it. When I woke up with my alarm notifying me that the race was starting in 10 minutes, and I was in my bed in Manhattan and the race was in Brooklyn… no amount of hustle would have gotten me there on time. Especially with the state of the MTA on weekends. That was $23 down the drain. I’ll consider it my donation to New York Roadrunners.
Let’s get to the important things: hashtags and social media.
I am lucky enough to know someone who ran the marathon last year, and is very witty with words. Also, her fiancé is great with words. They came up with my hashtag: #SoreLegsLongDistance. If you search on Instagram, you can follow along with my journey! Also, I always add #NewGoalNewHashtag. This may be wayyyy less fun than #30Years30IceCreams, but I will definitely earn my ice cream along the way.
I decided that for photographic consistency purposes, I would run every race in the swag that I get with my race entry. That means that although I own enough lululemon gear to outfit a small army of runners, you will see me every race in my New Balance NYRR shirts! I even ran the last race in the short-sleeved shirt they gave me, despite it being 30 degrees. Clearly NYRR ordered their swag before they checked Mother Nature’s plan to continue the winter all the way into the summer.
I try to take a selfie at the start line before each race, or an ussie if I have a running buddy. Watch on Instagram for all of my selfies with water and apples and bagels at the finish line.
I won’t bore you with step by step recaps of each race; there are a lot of them! However, I’ll post a recap of my races after I’m done with 3, so you can follow along. This means I’m already behind and I better post my first recap soon! 3+1 down, 6 to go!
I know you were all anxiously awaiting the denouement (SAT word!) of my Apartment Moving Saga, and I’m happy to give a quick update, but the conclusion Is still forthcoming. Long story short: we have a new apartment! And it even has wifi! I can finally post on my blog from home!
That’s the good news. Bad news: our oven doesn’t work in the new place and our old apartment has f*cked us over with our security deposit (no surprise there). Anyway, at the very least, I have learned a lot. I have learned enough to NOT MOVE EVER AGAIN. Or at least not again in the near future.
I’ve lived in New York City for 7.5 years, and miraculously I have only lived in 3 (now 4!) apartments in that span of time. However, that does not mean I have not embarked on many many more apartment hunts than that. Ultimately, I have only moved those few times (yes, every 2-3 years is few in NYC), because moving SUCKS. Not only does moving suck, but moving in New York is literally. THE. WORST.
I’ve compiled a not-so-short list of why apartment hunting in New York sucks, as well as my expert tips, gleaned from years of experience, as to how to combat the list of terribles.
You can only look for an apartment 2-3 weeks in advance.Yes, I said WEEKS. If you look for an apartment before this time, they will want you to move in too soon (an impossibility due to the cost of rent), or, the apartment will already be taken by the time you want it. Of course this causes anxiety levels so high that I have been self-medicating for months. I assure you, this is normal. When you need to give your current building at least 2 months of notice before vacating, yet you cannot begin searching for a place until 2 weeks prior, you have at least a month to sweat it out, thinking about all of the ways you will fit your worldly belongings into a cardboard box in Times Square.
How to combat this: booze. Lots of it.
When you go to view an apartment, you need to have at least $9,000 in your bank account ready to go, as well as a credit score over 700. No, you didn’t read that wrong, that is 3 zeros. And yes, I mean for a 1-bedroom apartment, not a house. You need at least the first month, last month, and security deposit. When a one-bedroom apartment costs $3,000 on a good day, you’re looking at close to $10K
How to combat this: be rich? I dunno. This is a tough one to combat. Probably just have no savings account and live paycheck-to-paycheck for months after moving.
You need documentation of your entire life. Most recently, the building asked for a two-page application listing bank account numbers, savings account numbers, previous building information, etc. They also required my most recent bank statement. Also, my previous two year’s tax returns. Also, my last two pay stubs. Also, a letter from my current building vouching for me. Also, a letter from my employer stating my position and salary. They also required this from my emoji-bf. My coworker recently submitted an apartment application where they asked for his college transcript. He had not been in school for years.
How to combat this: Be prepared. And try not to piss off your current building too much because asking them for a letter of recommendation will get very awkward. Yes, I know from experience.
Every apartment you see will be missing something you really wanted. How to find a diamond in the rough? Make a list of non-negotiable things you are looking for before you embark on a search. Apartments within your budget are all going to look terrible. It is possible that you need to adjust or modify this list as your search proceeds. However, it’s a good idea to know what you are looking for, so you don’t get swayed after seeing dump after dump of apartments. Example: “Yes I was looking for an elevator building with a dishwasher, and this is a 5th floor walk-up with no dishwasher… but I can actually fit a full-size bed in the bedroom as opposed to the last 5! Let’s take it!”
How to combat: Make a list. Stick to it. Or at the very least, exhaust your search before modifying your expectations.
Broker fees are the biggest waste of money ever.Don’t be a fool, do you due diligence. You can probably find a great place without paying a fee. And it may mean raising your budget by $200/month. But in the grand scheme of things, you’ll be paying your broker at least $2,500, so why not put that money into your apartment, and not to some rando you’ll never speak to again? One of the main reasons I liked the apartment I’m currently writing this from is because the broker had friendly banter with me about how brokers’ fees are useless and dumb. I liked him immediately (and I did not pay him anything).
How to combat: DO NOT PAY A BROKER’S FEE. SEARCH HARDER.
Brokers are slimy conniving pieces of crap. Oh look, a follow-up from the last bullet point. I am making a generalization because it is true. And yes, this is separate from the point above. Here I am talking about the no-fee brokers. By no-fee, I mean, you are personally not paying them. However, they are still getting paid by someone, which means they are driven solely by commissions, and not by your actual wants, needs, and stated demands. Example: Me: “Yes, our budget is $3,000/month. Elevator, possible doorman, 69th street to 97th” Broker: “Well I have a place just outside of your price range in the area you’re looking. It’s $3,400/month, 3rd floor walk-up, on 107th street.” WTF.
How to combat: Be firm. Be clear. Do not waver. Do not be gaslit. Remember your list of demands!
A security deposit is really an aspirational amount of money you hope to see again but probably won’t.They say it’s to make sure you keep your apartment nice. According to a quick google search, you should get your money back unless they need to pay for repairs for damage other than normal wear and tear. However, this is absolutely never the case. In fact, when I typed into google “New York Sec” the first populated search was “New York Security Deposit Law.” And no, I had never searched for this before.
How to combat: Kiss your money goodbye. The good news is, there’s an emoji created specifically for this phenomenon: dollar bills with wings. Flying away.
Hopefully some of these tips will help you in the future. If not, remember, I feel you. And misery loves company. Let’s chat.
Boxes on boxes on boxes.
Old place: SPOTLESS! Yet still fighting to get the security deposit back.
You know what I always dreamed of? Using bungee cords hung from the ceiling for an hour-long cardio and toning class that kept me engaged and sweating the whole time. JK, I never dreamed of it because I didn’t even know it was possible, but FitForFreeNYC made my non-dream become a reality, because she came through yet again with a freebie at Spiderbands!
Ever since I took a free yoga class and free BollyX class from following Alexa Lippman’s blog and Instagram, I have been keeping a close eye on her posts, and it has paid off again and again. This past week was definitely the best yet. On November 27th, she posted a boomerang and said that if you created an account during the month of November, the first class would be totally free until December 28. That meant I had 3 days to claim the class! I dropped all of my Macy’s Parade and Thanksgiving plans and signed up STAT. I also told 8 of my friends to sign up. Five of them did, too! We decided to take a class together and we even set calendar reminders to sign up right when the spots opened, because all classes for the week open up at 1:00 pm on Mondays. Long story short, all of my friends bailed (literally, all 5 of them), but I went anyway, by myself, and it was a BLAST. AND a fabulous workout!
Generally the first class is $20. You may have missed the opportunity for a free class, but the good news is, for the month of December, it’s BOGO! (I picked this tip up from FitForFree as well.) At $17/class, that’s even less than the first class special. And trust me, you’ll want to do it more than once.
The Spiderbands location has two studios in it, which have different bands in them. The downstairs studio is for Spiderbands, the original band. There are five different possible classes with those bands. The upstairs one is Spider Flyzone, where the pace is slower so you can perfect your technique and work on acrobatic skills, either with or without a partner. When I walked into the Union Square location, they were super nice and inviting, gave me a tour of the studios and the locker room (VERY modern and clean), and explained the lockers to me. They also informed me that cell phones were not allowed in the rooms at all, which made me thankful I was early so I could snap some quick shots of the place before we started!
Clean aesthetic, with… bungee bands on the ceiling?
Always gotta have merch available.
Super clean locker room.
SPIDERS EVERYWHERE!
Me, Franci, and Spiders
Even on the original Spiderbands, there are five different options of classes, some using trampolines and even boxing bags! Since it was my very first class, I decided to go for the Signature Spiderbands, taught by the one and only CREATOR of the band itself, Franci Cohen. The bands have only one adjustment: the height of the handles on the bands can either be on high, or low. Being 5’11”, clearly I was high (DUH LONG LEGS big city). Then I was ready to go. Franci explained that to keep things simple, each segment of the class would be four moves, and she would teach one, practice it, and add one on at a time. We started with a cardio warmup, which followed the same 4-move format. We began by jumping with our hands on the bar of the band, doing different movements from things like spider jumps (like a side to side skater jump), and jumping jacks, and running forward and back, all while pushing on the resistance of the bands with our arms. I found out quickly that the upper body and cardio were going to be the tough parts. With all of my spinning, the squats were nothing compared to the constant resistance on my shoulders and arms from the pressure of trying to hold the band down against the resistance from the ceiling. The four-move-max really helped because I could concentrate more on the movements and good form than on remembering the next move. I did enjoy the fact that it seemed a little choreographed, since I am a fan of step aerobics and other dance-y-type things, it kept things interesting to change up the moves. However, since it was a max of 4 moves to remember at a time, it didn’t take a very coordinated person to catch on.
Intimidated by this when I walked in.
This is what the room looked like before I was allowed in. Photos from beyond the “no-cell-phone-threshold”
The floor of the studio was very bouncy, which is helpful for knees, but I was a little bit worried about my ankle stability on the one leg jumping movements, since I had a double sprain earlier in the year. Overall, though, the floor made it more fun, and we were able to do a larger range of things, with bigger range of motion. For example, my favorite move of the class was when we held on the bar, walked backwards, dropped our butts down to the floor, rolled back like we were going to do a backward somersault, touched our toes to the bar, and then rolled back up to standing position, all without letting go of the bar. I got stuck on the floor the first time, but Franci cued that if we backed up further, the bands would have tighter resistance which would help us get back up, and sure enough, it worked. There were 25 available spots in the class, but we only had about 14 people, which was great because Franci could walk around and help each of us out! 4 of those empty bands were from my friends who bailed! THANKS FRIENDS!
Overall, I left the class super sweaty and I had a BLAST! The class went by FAST, ended with 5 minutes of tough ab moves, also utilizing the Spiderbands and arms, by sitting on the floor and doing different moves like variations of reverse crunches, and I was sore for a few days. I would definitely recommend going back. In fact, I may snap a BOGO 2 more class before that deal expires in 4 days!
It’s December! That means that although we had a freaky 50-degree day yesterday, the first snow of the season is upon us! And the second… and the third…
Remember 2 weeks ago when we were wearing short-sleeved shirts and wondering when winter was going to arrive? Well I think it’s made its debut. Soon, the city will be pretty nasty and slushy, as it always gets, but nothing beats that very first snow of the season.
12 days ago, we had our first big snow. And it snowed ALL. DAY. LONG. My best friend from high school was due to fly into NYC that morning, and I was almost sure that her flight would be canceled or delayed. But… miracle of miracles, she landed on time! It took her hours to get from the airport to my house due to the #SummerOfHell continued, aka #WinterOfHell with MTA, but that’s a whole different story.
This year we have been lucky because the first few snows have completely melted, the city is dry, and we will now be gifted a SECOND FIRST SNOW. Since we have been given this rare gift, I decided to compile a list of do’s and don’t for the first snow (or SECOND FIRST SNOW) vs. the 2nd, 3rd, 4th etc. snows. These are very useful tips, so feel free to bookmark this page for future use.
FIRST SNOW:
DO wear cute clothes. There will be photos. Which leads me to my next point…
DO take photos. It will never look this pretty again. Until the next year.
DO make a snowman, or a snow angel. This will be the last snow you can safely touch for the year.
DO post about it on social media. How else will everyone know it’s snowing outside?? By looking out the window?? Who does that anymore? Also…
DO boomerang. Snow is made for boomerangs. Jump in it. Ball it up. Throw it. Sled in it. So many action shots.
DO have fun! White pretty stuff is falling from the sky and the world is your own personal children’s storybook!
DON’T forget how to walk. Yes, I know it’s slippery. Walk carefully, but not like a tourist. We still have places to go. Separate but related:
DON’T stop to take a photo in the middle of the sidewalk. Yes, def take photos, I already said that above. But go to Central Park. It’s prettier there. Or at least move to the side of the sidewalk and yield to pedestrians.
DON’T use an umbrella. Come on guys. It won’t help. You know. I know. Let’s stop pretending.
DON’T run down subway stairs. SPLAT. No train is worth that. Even if you have to wait 15 minutes for the next one (get your sh*t together, MTA). I’ve had two sprained ankles to prove this.
DON’T forget how beautiful it is. It won’t be like this for very long…
SECOND (third, fourth fifth etc.) SNOW:
DO cover your head. Things will be melting, city juice abounds. No one knows what it is, but suffice it to say you don’t want it on your head.
DO wear whatever layers you have, cute or not. After you’ve taken your “first snow” pics, the jig is up. The snow seems to radiate cold after a while. It’s like black concrete for heat.
DO wear snow boots. Duck boots. Any and all waterproof boots.
DO be aware of the mystery slush piles. I mentioned this in my first blog EVER about Tips for NYC Living, but remember, it may LOOK like it’s 1 inch deep, but it could be 10. Do you really want to take that risk??
DO complain about it social media. Yes, everyone else will be doing it, too, but misery loves company, right?
DON’T wear suede boots. Or suede anything for that matter. You will be splashed. It will not be pretty.
DON’T go into work if you are gifted a snow day. That means checking your work email from bed if there is even a 10% chance of snow for the day. DON’T risk getting ready if it is not necessary.
DON’T forget about scaffolding. It is your friend. There is dry, non-icy, non-slushy ground below it. Sprint to it (carefully).
DON’T forget to take a mid-winter vacation to a warm, beachy place. But also DON’T forget to check the weather first. Airport delays in the snow = more miserable than sitting at home in the snow.
And DON’T forget to pass this list along to a friend and keep it handy, as I am sure we will all be needing it soon.
Happy Black Friday! Take a break from shopping to read an update from your friendly, neighborhood Macy’s Parade expert.
TL;DR: NEVER going back to Balloon Inflation again; Parade was FANTASTIC as always, even though I feel old; I ate so much food; traveling back to NYC on Thanksgiving night when I woke up at 5 am for the parade is something I will never do again.
Wednesday night, I joined my friend and sister to attend the great balloon inflation. Turned out to be not-so-great. Ok, it was f*cking horrifically terrible. Good parts, standing in crowds of 10,000 people surrounded by bomb-sniffing dogs and full-riot-gear snipers. Ok jk, those were not good parts. There were no good parts. It was disorganized, and when we finally got through the security checkpoint and bag check (after 30 minutes of waiting), we found out that the line snaked from 74th street to 76th street, then back to 74th, then back to 76th. 6 total blocks, and even then, you were only at 76th street and the actual balloons didn’t start for another block after that. Once we got through one part of the snaking line, and after I was hit in the legs by approximately 16 strollers and kicked by approximately 4 children, we knew we had to escape. We asked a police officer how to GTFO. She told us we had to snake back down to 75th then ask an officer to open the gates for us. We jumped over a barricade and through the other snaking line, and walked as fast as we could away from that sh*tshow.
After that horrific experience, we walked back uptown along Columbus Avenue, in the street on the east side, and GUESS WHAT? We could see all the freaking balloons anyway. They are hundreds of feet long, after all. We even did a good deed, delivering a girl’s keys across Columbus Avenue to her friend on the west side of the street, because the girl was actually stuck inside the balloon inflation line, just as we had been, minutes prior!
The night got a lot better, though. We ate homemade pizza at my sister’s house, thanks to my brother-in-law, and then we went to part ways. As I left my sister’s house, I realized the police were blocking Amsterdam Avenue. Then I realized why: ALL OF THE FLOATS FOR THE PARADE WERE ARRIVING!! It was amazing. I called my sister immediately and told her to come outside. The floats all need to be able to fold up, or disassemble into 12.5 by 13-foot boxes to fit through the Lincoln Tunnel. We got to see the floats all tied down and folded up. Most terrifyingly, we saw the Jolly Green Giant in all of his creepy reverie, head unattached, large hands unattached and filled with even larger ears of corn. This was, by far, the coolest part of the night. And there was no line at all!
The not-so-great inflation we saw from the street.
Mount Rushmore tied down.
Folded up for the tunnel.
Build-a-Bear!
SANTA’S SLEIGH!!
Jolly Green Beheaded Giant.
WT are those eyes!?
I couldn’t get over it.
Hand of corn.
I went home and slept for very few hours, then woke up at 5:45 am feeling like it was Christmas morning. I’m Jewish so, this is sort of as good as it gets: PARADE DAY! I followed most of my tips for parade-viewing, bundling up in layers, and stopping at the bodega for an egg sandwich and snacks, and definitely not coffee. I picked up my sister along the way, and we settled in to watch just south of 75th street on Central Park West at 6:40 am.
Early Morning. #WorthIt
So cold.
Picked up the sister!
Yes, I used this snapchat filter a million times. #SorryNotSorry
READY TO ROLL!!
It’s not easy to pick, but here are some highlights of parade-watching:
We were standing right at the beginning of the parade, so we were in front of the opening marching band. We got to dance along with them and hear their awesome songs.
We were close enough so that the clowns threw confetti on us.
Unfortunately, I barely knew any of the performers. I think that’s how I know I’m old.
Performers I knew and got to see: Patti Labell, Common, Flo-Rida, Jimmy Fallon, Bebe Rexha, and ALSO, 98° actually came back from retirement! Love me some Nick Lachey.
Patti Labelle
Flo-Rida
Jimmy Fallon and The Roots!
Bebe Rexha
98 DEGREES!!!!!
I’m tall so I could see all of the floats and balloons before everyone else. (Long legs, big city. Duh.)
Spirit of America dance team came by. And when they stopped their cheering, (“MACYS. THANKSGIVING DAY. PARADE!”), my sister and I started a back and forth “We’ve got spirit, yes we do, we’ve got spirit, how ‘bout YOU!?” And we did that a few times with about 40 cheerleaders joining in.
SANTA!!! How does one get that job? Does he just have to have his own padding and not be drunk? (Miracle on 34th Street reference.)
#SelfieWithSanta
After the parade was over, we got to see City workers immediately swiveling the traffic lights back into place. Always a sight to see.
While the streets were still closed, my sister took an amazing photo of me. New profile pic!
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Oh, and selfies with balloons. Which needs its own gallery of photos.
First balloon of the parade, and first year for Olaf!
Do dinosaurs roar?
Sisters and Ronald
Not a balloon, but look who they put back together!
Trolls!
Harold from Miracle on 34th Street! All in grayscale.
Elves mean SANTA IS COMING!
Not to mention that my sister and I LOVE Macy’s and have a special appreciation for most people’s least favorite balloons: The Macy’s Stars! We took selfies (ussies?) with all of them!
First set of stars.
2nd set.
Gold Stars for the first time in memory. Merry Christmas!
After the parade, I went home, still on a high, and watched the parade’s broadcast on NBC. I caught the last 45 minutes and got to see Santa AGAIN! Then I took a shower, FINALLY had coffee, and headed to Penn Station, aka Dante’s 10th circle of hell on Thanksgiving Day, and headed to South Orange, New Jersey.
I had Thanksgiving dinner at my sister’s husband’s brother’s house. There were twenty people there! The food was DELISH and the bar was #STOCKED. I think I had 3 gin and tonics before dinner, then a few glasses of wine at dinner. The only thing I will complain about… No mac and cheese! Unfortunately, since they keep kosher, there was delicious turkey, but it meant we couldn’t have cheese. That’s ok, I know there will definitely be some at Christmas in Texas.
Lastly, remind me to never take the NJ Transit back into New York on the night of Thanksgiving. It was standing-room-only, filled with New Yorkers escaping the suburbs, and there were drunk people everywhere. Also, at that point I had been awake and in constant motion for 16 hours. It was not pleasant.
Maybe next year the plan will be Parade, then movie marathon in bed. But ALWAYS Parade. Until next year!
Diary of a Wimpy Kid, my sisters balloon from last year.
