See Chuckles Make The Rounds

There is an invisible persona in New York City that I don't like at all who is named Chuckles. He can be found in smug company, briefly possessing each individual. Have you witnessed deliberate and merciless humiliation of one person by a group and the ensuing laughter? Then you have been privy to See Chuckles Make the Rounds.

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I'll Kill You

Children soon learn the power of words, even if they do not know the full meaning. Take the ever popular "I'll Kill You." Adults often dispense with the words and just perform the act. Particularly when angry. And nothing enrages a New Yorker more than a breech of certain types of urban etiquette, particularly street parking etiquette. And yes, there is such a thing.

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My Pleasure

One of the driving forces in New York City is that the bar is set higher for virtually every thing imaginable: products, services, culture, architecture, etc. Cream rises to the top, and New York City is where much of the cream of society lies.

I hate to make this read like "Why I Hate Bristol," but Bristol, Connecticut, where I grew up, became a metaphor, for many who lived there, for all things boring, unsophisticated, and closed-minded. A place where no one would think out of the box and where a person was made to feel foolish for aspirations, dreams, or anything that would dare take you away from that place or separate you from the pack.

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That's What You Pay For

A Shocking Story of Discarded Peanut Shells

I was told by a friend who lives in Bedford-Stuyvesant, Brooklyn, about the throwing of trash into the air shaft outside her building. She told me that not only was there an accumulation of trash at the bottom, but also that many articles thrown out find their home on her window sills, air conditioner, etc.
On a recent visit to her apartment, I was able to look at and photograph the mess. She encouraged me to do so - documenting this would aid her in any action to remedy the situation.

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Shortly Before Execution

I was once in a restaurant with a friend in Park Slope, Brooklyn, where a family of four was finishing their dinner. The two children were playing with food and every condiment on the table. Sugar packets had been opened and the contents were everywhere. Salt, pepper, uneaten rice, dirty utensils - all had become playthings. Food was everywhere and the floor (carpeted unfortunately) was covered in food debris. The parents made no effort whatsoever to stop the activity. There was a sense that these were children and that is what children do.

Where I grew up, that is what children do, shortly before execution.

This is the parents' fault, of course, and in many instances in the city, I have seen extraordinary examples of parents indulging children in grossly inappropriate behavior. No one says anything, lest they be perceived as child haters or interfering with other people's business.

I am intrigued by etiquette. So seemingly quaint and outdated, yet I am fascinated by the thinking and history behind what often appears to be arbitrary or whimsical rules of conduct. And in any world or society, particularly one so complex as where we are now, there is a huge appeal for doctrine, dogma and customs. Life so much easier with a rule book.

I expressed this interest in codes of behavior some years ago and was gifted a copy of Emily Post's Etiquette. I was surprised to see it was still published - the classic tome is now in its 17th edition.* A guide to every aspect of social behavior is covered, even including how to eat bing cherries. There are also sections on the etiquette of things that new technology has ushered in - cellphones, email, use of iPods, etc. and changing progressive mores - sex, dating, relationships, gay lifestyle.

There is also urban etiquette, covering things specific to the city life - crowded sidewalks and streets, subways, taxis, umbrellas, doormen, apartment life. Urban issues provide plenty of raw material for comedy writing - many of the minutiae of urban living which beg for some form of urban etiquette have been the subject of classic moments in TV shows like Seinfeld, Curb Your Enthusiasm, Frasier et. al. Although some plot themes appeared to be farcical and hyper exaggerated, like Covenant of the Keys, they were in reality issues that are often very important in city life.

The New York City subway is heavily used and the perfect environment for observing every manner of manners. Some see it no differently than the great outdoors. It can be dog eat dog and every man for himself. Others try to maintain a sense of decorum, following rules of urban etiquette.

The photo was taken on the D train to Coney Island for the Mermaid Parade. As I approached my destination, my fellow riders appeared to become more casual - one had a cigarette and the other had his feet up on a pole. Where I'm from, there's no problem with that, shortly before execution :)

*Emily Post died in New York City in 1960. The Emily Post institute still survives and is headed by Peggy Post, Emily Post's great-granddaughter-in-law.
Related Posts: Follow the Crowd, Teleportation, Aspiring Rebel, Random Acts of Consideration, Twinship, The Curse of Trade, Just Don't Stick, Flailing and Hailing, Covenant of the Keys, Sardines, Get a Room, World of Gray, No Salga Afuera, PDA, The Subway

Random Acts of Consideration

A Mild-Mannered Man of Manners

(Note: this is Part 2. For Part 1 - see here.)

We sat in the jet stream - a literal wind tunnel as cold wintry air blasted in from the curtained entry only a few feet from our table. Customers entering the restaurant would push the curtain aside, invariably leaving it open. Occasionally, a staff member, if in our neighborhood, would draw it closed, only to be opened seconds or minutes later by new arrivals.

I had been observing this situation for quite some time and a very large number of people had entered. NO ONE, not one, had considered pulling this curtain closed. Even those who were waiting to be seated and stood for some time just inches away from us. Of course it was not the responsibility of customers to tend to the failed windscreen, so I cannot really accuse these passersby of any rudeness, only a surprising lack of consideration on the part of all who entered in not pulling the curtain back behind them. However, this is a restaurant, it was incredibly busy and chaotic, and hunger called out for those arriving, not Emily Post, Ann Landers or Randy Cohen*.

I passed the time with a friend, an NYU student, writing on our chalk table while she told me of her high school classmates' use of the word Guam to describe the remote, as I told her of the term Siberia which I had seen used in a New York Magazine article to refer to poorly located restaurant tables (see Timbuktu, Guam and Siberia here). Surprisingly, she had never heard of Timbuktu used in this manner, perhaps more common at the time I grew up. Every generation has its own potpourri of slang, influenced by societal and cultural elements of the time. Words and phrases like Queen of Sheba, shindig, floozy and skinny balink are not popular in today's lexicon. The rise of the Internet, gaming, electronic media and personal computers has given rise to a new world of language and idioms, both written and spoken - acronyms, initialisms, leetspeak, and others.

A group of three entered the restaurant, where a blond haired gentlemen of the group immediately turned and closed the curtain - so quickly as to appear to be an automatic reflex action. This, I thought, is a man cut from a different cloth. An interloper. A stranger in a strange land, or at least a man with roots other than New York City. As he was heading to a table to be seated, I asked, "are you from the Midwest?" To which he replied, "Yes I am."

I was elated, not so much at his considerate act, but in feeling and looking brilliant at my accurate identification of this mild-mannered man of manners. I went to his table, introduced myself, and learned that his name was Jerry. He was as unimpressed with my feat as he was with his standout behavior - perhaps not surprising from a man who was likely brought up to see this as expected behavior, not an act so unusual as to beg a story to be written.

The evening had been tantamount to a crude, informal study on human behavior. And although the results were rather dismal for mankind as a whole, in the final act or our small drama, Jerry illuminated the darkness of the room with his Random Act of Consideration :)

*Randy Cohen writes an informative and provocative column, The Ethicist, for the New York Times.

Timbuktu, Guam and Siberia

If you are going to dine in New York City restaurants, it is best that you are tolerant and flexible. New York City is edgy, and, like all edges, some are sharp and others, like New York's, are rough and uneven. Even if you pick your battles carefully, there are too many elements beyond a person's control in a big city, buffeted about by whim, chance and circumstance. Like the service you get in a restaurant or the location of your table.

There are numerous metaphors for the remote. As a child growing up, the household refrain was forever Timbuktu. I did love the sound of it. It was so befitting - its very sound was exotic and remote, somewhere in darkest, mysterious Africa. It only occurred to me recently that I had no idea of where Timbuktu was or why it was such a well used metaphor for the faraway place.

In 1988, New York Magazine ran an article entitled: Table Envy. The Best Seats in Town, Who Gets Them - And How To Avoid Siberia. Siberia - another apt metaphor for the poorly located and very undesirable. The article even contained floor plans of some of the city's more exclusive restaurants, showing the placement of tables with a description of those deemed to be in Siberia (as opposed to the "Golden Coast.")

I am told by a friend who attended Elwood/John Glenn High School on Long Island, that Guam was the universal label for all things remote and that the word was used liberally. Thus, we have a trinity of metaphors, showing a nice geographical distribution, perfect for every occasion to cover the various conditions where remoteness needs to be underlined.

I have sat many times at the table at the top of the short staircase at the entrance to Olive Tree, a Middle Eastern restaurant on MacDougal Street in Greenwich Village. I do love the ambiance of this place, but although not remote, this table for two can at times qualify as a variant on Siberia, particularly with continuing severe drafts from the doorway in the winter. Last night's affair was like dining in the jet stream. A woefully inadequate curtain was forever billowing, acting as a poor windscreen and was left open from each customer that had last arrived. We shall see in tomorrow's story, however, that there can be pleasant surprises and warming trends, in Timbuktu, Guam and even in Siberia...

* Timbuktu is located in the West African nation of Mali, located on the Niger River at the edge of the Sahara desert. At its peak in the 16th century, Timbuktu was a thriving center of commerce and intellectual activity which drew Islamic scholars from around the world. It has been a popular metaphor for a remote or mysterious place and used this way in film, literature and conversation for over a century.

Random Acts of Rudeness

A Door Drama

I have shared many stories of the good and remarkable I have found in the people of this city. I have recounted very few tales of rude or hostile behavior, not in an effort to distort the city's image, but in order not to focus on negativity. The media does a more than adequate job of covering hostile or criminal acts in New York City. In fairness, however, if we really had to do a study, I am sure that the rudeness quotient would be much higher in New York City than in a rural or suburban environment. A small incident yesterday serves as an apt example.

Upon arriving at my office building mid day, I was met with a woman engrossed in something in front of the door. The entrance way has two doors, only one of which is available for access in and out. Let us even grant that she did not know this. She was standing only inches in front of the doorway where I had to enter. You can see this in today's photo. She made no effort to move at all. It was raining, but she could have easily just moved a couple feet in front of the adjoining door. I did not excuse myself, expecting that as I opened the door against her back, she would become aware of the situation and certainly move. Perhaps even offer the obligatory and insincere "I'm sorry." But no.

I opened the door no more than 12 inches and SQUEEZED through the opening. Apparently desensitized to humanity and anything around her, she did not move at all - it was a case of rudeness to the point of obliviousness. I turned to look at her from the back as I waited for the elevator. She was in the same position, unaware of the incident and that she was still blocking the entrance to an office building.

In the business environment, particularly business to business sales, New York City can be hostile, even with well articulated policies of apparent rudeness, such as a sign posted on a door stating: "NO STUDENTS AFTER 1 PM" - see the story here. Admittedly, with the hordes of people in such a large city, brusque behavior towards others can easily develop. However, it is not a fait accompli, and many businesses with the same streetside exposure to masses of shoppers do not become hostile to their customers. New York City just demands a little more effort to stay on the polite side of the line.

Typically, I would become quite irritated by an experience such as this door drama. However, I now view any extreme acts, whether kindness or rudeness, as an opportunity for my writing. Using this website as a forum, the negative incidents can be defused through public ventilation and discourse. At the same time, on occasion, it provides an opportunity to illuminate New York's more extreme behaviors and Rather than Respond with Road Rage, just Report these Random Acts of Rudeness...

No Negativity

In 2006-7, a friend and I were regulars at Think Coffee (see here). Looking to vary our cafe experience, one evening I suggested that we try Cafe Dante. He readily agreed. We knew that unlike Think Coffee, Dante was not self service, the atmosphere would not be quite as casual and that certainly there would be some time limit on how long one could park without continuing to buy food or drinks.

We were not, however, prepared for the sign in the window: NO LAPTOPS. This was not a problem for us, since we did not have laptops, but nonetheless, it certainly did emit a rather negative vibe for a Village cafe.

Thoughts and conversation turned to the new realities of laptops in cafes and restaurants and how their use can lead to hours spent at a table, with the financial impact and new policy considerations for owners and management. Some cafes now impose limits or ban use of laptops during certain hours. Think Coffee, on the other hand, was extraordinarily liberal and I pondered what their official policy was regarding time versus money spent to occupy a table or seat.

On my next visit to Think Coffee, I told the counter person of our Dante experience. I asked if there was any policy at all regarding purchases necessary to spend time in the cafe. For example, since Think offers free water, could I pour myself a cup and spend the day without making any purchase? Her response surprised us and became an inside joke and an oft repeated catchphrase: "Let's just say the management has a policy of No Negativity." Wow. So essentially the policy is anything goes.

Last night in a Village restaurant, I witnessed what to me was a rather egregious act. Two women were sitting at a table. One pulled out a laptop. The other moved her chair into the aisle to share the screen. She then folded her knees, bringing them up towards her chin and put both of her feet on the seat of the chair. I am not talking about crossing legs - she had the soles of both shoes squarely planted on the surface of the chair seat which was covered in fabric. This seemed so inappropriate, I countered by pulling out my camera and taking a photo. However, she moved her legs, so I did not catch the offending act specifically.

But it is no matter. We are in a different world now. Business is very competitive and must extend very liberal policies to keep customers. There is no need to buy anything in a cafe and perhaps you can even put your feet up on the table in a restaurant. We have one new policy now - No Negativity :)

Note: Since this photo was taken in a restaurant, I have processed it to protect the privacy of the individuals.

Anywhere You Go

Perhaps my sister should have understood that getting in a car with me means that you had better have your body function requirements taken care of, or be met with a very disagreeable man when requests to stop are made. Actually, it would have been better had she not stepped into a car with me at all. But alas, that was not the case and in 1998, five family members found ourselves crammed together in a small car for a 10 day road trip to France. On November 12, 2009, I wrote about this family trip - you can find it here.

One day while driving, I heard the usual cry from the bathroom admiration society. However, this was France, not the USA. I was on a divided highway. I saw a petrol station some distance ahead on the opposite side of the road with no apparent way to get there. Or let us fairly say that there was no great motivation to get there. I pulled over and contemplated the logistics of crossing this roadway and the unpleasant prospect of making an unnecessary detour and stop.

While evaluating the situation curbside in our idling vehicle, a woman in a nearby private residence came out of her home and asked if we needed help. In the best French we could muster, we told her thanks, but we needed a bathroom and wanted to know if the petrol station had public bathrooms and how to get there. Unbelievably, this woman offered her home and escorted my mother and two sisters in.

We were stunned and to this day, I retell this tale often. Where were the rude, impolite French we had heard about? Answer: The same place they are anywhere - lying inside reasonable people, only to surface when provoked by someone rude who does not understand their culture and etiquette. Americans often behave quite badly, expecting everything to be like home. Read my story So Where's David?.

This was not an isolated event. Even in Paris I had people battling to give me the right directions. Everywhere I went, when approaching others with respect, I was treated respectfully.

When I saw Cafe Charbon-Epicerie at 170 Orchard Street in the Lower East Side of New York City, I was immediately charmed by the recreated Parisian street scene with faux storefronts including a Cremerie and Tabac. This French bistro's reviews, however, are as mixed as the travel experience to France. I skimmed hundreds of patron and food critic reviews which range the extremes of the spectrum. There were some extraordinarily negative experiences - many said that it was the worst service they have had in a New York City restaurant.

After nearly a decade, Cafe Charbon is closing, a place where perhaps rudeness came naturally or fuses were short. Some people are just more polite or have a higher tolerance for abuse like our friend Winnie - see here. But rather than seek out places or people where rude service comes naturally, read So Where's David?, sharpen your skills provoking people and you can find rude service anywhere you go :)

Meetings with Annoying Men

Poor Winnie - Part 2

I had been passing the nondescript storefront (near my home) at 357 6th Avenue for some years. Previously, Ony was located here, a Japanese restaurant I frequented, featuring delicious noodle soups. Now, there is neither signage nor a menu posted. Peeking in through the cutouts I was able to see that it was also a Japanese restaurant. See photo in Part 1 here.

I was intrigued, however, a number of friends and I are regulars at Marumi (see here). We all love the food there and have been eating there for so long, it feels like a second home. There was no compelling reason to investigate another Japanese restaurant, particularly with no menu posted.

One does tire of the same routine, though, so on Tuesday, a friend and I stopped by and asked to see a menu. The restaurant's name was Soto. Surprisingly, the prices seemed reasonable. We decided to try it the following night. When we arrived, we were asked if we had a reservation, which on the surface seemed rather silly, since the place was virtually empty.

After ordering, we were informed by the waitress that what we had selected were actually very small appetizers. She recommended following with something from the next page of the menu. Now we were beginning to see the full picture. We asked the waitress to give us a few moments to regroup. My dining companion offered to leave if I felt we were getting in too deep for a casual dining decision. I suggested we stay - the pricing would still not break the bank.

We shared an extraordinary parade of dishes as they came out, one by one. I will not describe each dish here but suffice it to say that the food was truly sublime and exotic - nothing like anything I have seen before. It was easily the finest Japanese food I have ever had. My companion, who has had much more experience eating in upscale restaurants, agreed.

A man arrived alone and sat at the table immediately next to us. This gentleman (and I use the term loosely), however, did not appear pleased with anything he ordered. He complained about and returned every single item brought to him without exception. Some items were returned twice. He complained that the soy sauce was too salty, the Sake was not to his liking and he did not want wasabi in his sushi. Every bite he took appeared to be an exercise in scrutiny - this was not dining, it was a forensic autopsy. It was excruciating to watch but the waitress did an admirable job trying to please him. The customer also made trouble regarding the bill, which totaled $142 for one person (our check was $133 for two).

My friend and I both felt compelled to speak to the waitress and offer our condolences. After he left, we pulled her aside. Winnie, a young girl who hailed from Indonesia, appeared very eager and pleased to talk. We apologized for her customer and assured her that this man was completely unreasonable. I told her that not only was the food amazing, but this was a man who could not be pleased and perhaps someone who needs to show off his "sophisticated" palate for all to see. She had maintained composure throughout this entire affair, but now put her hand on her stomach and politely told us how stressed and tense this experience had made her. We concurred.

That night at home, I did a little research on Soto. I learned that it is owned by celebrity chef Sotohiro Kosugi. It is considered one of the two finest Japanese restaurants in New York City and one of only 10 restaurants in the city to hold the coveted Michelin two star rating (much harder to earn than a one star rating). Only four restaurants hold the highest rating of three stars. Soto is also one of a tiny group of restaurants to get a Zagat survey food rating of 28 - the highest possible.

The stakes are high for all in a restaurant of this caliber. Diners are quite experienced and often much more critical and demanding, voicing their complaints about things that to most, might appear to be extremely picky. In spite of the fact that I believe our diner was unreasonable, this type of person and his behavior is to be expected in a restaurant of this caliber.

Some may argue that the owner and staff are well compensated for incidents of this nature and that it comes with the territory. However, regardless of any expectations or diner's rights, the behavior we observed was excessive and in my opinion, mean. I don't believe that customer was so much displeased as he was trying to inflate his ego - at other people's expense. Poor Winnie :(

Meetings with Annoying Men

Poor Winnie - Part 1

He was one of the most annoying people I have ever met - the mold for the New Yorker everyone loves to hate. Every human descriptive with "self" as a preface could easily apply. I was introduced by a friend and learned that He was a translator for the United Nations - a perfect job for someone who wants professional tools to cut others with precision. A person like this will, however, need a constant audience to fan his ego and will likely run through unsuspecting victims rather quickly. I was one of them.

He believed everything had a price and it could be quantified. One only needed to ascertain whether the value of a thing or proposition was worth the price to any given person. His favorite question to me was always "How much is it worth to you?"

He lived on the Upper East Side. I visited His apartment once. On a tour of His home, every furnishing was pointed out and named, always prefaced by the brand or designer. I was to know that the ordinary or inexpensive did not belong here.

He had an outdoor garden (of course). It was here that I saw a moment of merit when He got into an argument over grammar with His close friend, also a translator for the UN. At one point, His friend, furious, declared that you absolutely could not use words in a particular way. He grabbed a paper napkin and began diagramming the sentence, something I had not seen since grade school. I don't remember the outcome, but it did not involve the brand or cost of the napkin or pen - the weaponry of the argument.

At that time in New York City, nothing to me conferred status more than gaining admittance to the various hot clubs, places like the Mudd Club, Xenon and the most well known, Studio 54. These places had arbitrary admission policies and potential admitees were chosen from the throngs outside the door, completely at the whim of the bouncer and his criteria.

On one occasion, I became extremely excited to learn that He was a regular at Studio 54. When I asked about the prospect of getting in, He asked what it was worth to me. $10? $20? He also surveyed my appearance, knowing full well that I would be a challenge.

A large number of us made an excursion to Studio 54 with Him. I recall very little except carrying a crumpled bill in my sweaty hand and following Him in a line with the others like victims of river blindness. At one point He looked back and told me to run my fingers through my hair and "look rich." I think He sensed the futility of getting our motley crew in before the bouncer rejected us, telling Him there were just too many to admit to the club. It did appear, however, that He did have rapport and clout with the bouncer. We failed nonetheless.

In my few brief encounters, I did take away one thing of value and that is about restaurants - dining is a business transaction. He had no tolerance for those restaurants that had menus without prices (such places do exist) or the common practice of waiters reciting specials without prices. You have the right to know the prices and asking is not improper. The management has already priced the offerings, so why hide it from the customer? I now never hesitate to ask a waiter the price of any special(s) I am interested in.

But as annoying as He was, I was to meet much worse in what is one of the finest (and most mysterious) restaurants in New York City and the waitress that had to serve him. My dining companion and I felt so badly for her. See why in Part 2 that we felt and said Poor Winnie :)

None For Me, Please

When I came to this city, there were so many things new to me. 24 hour delis, bagels, ethnic foods other than Italian, tall buildings, subways, men who were openly gay, pizza by the slice, egg creams, Macy's and all the other icons I had seen on TV now come to life.

And prostitutes. This was a big curiosity for me and other friends. That women would openly flaunt their bodies and market their wares on the streets for all to behold. In the desolate area around the Lincoln Tunnel (shown in the photo), street walkers could be seen any evening, openly soliciting and discussing specifics and pricing.

Sex for money has now moved off the streets of the city. Targeted by the Guiliani administration and contained by Bloomberg, little can be found on the streets. I have been told there is some activity in Hunt's Point, Bronx, and recently there has also been trafficking in child prostitution. But most activity has gone online to places like the erotic services on Craigslist, escort services websites, Facebook and Twitter.

In spite of having lived in a city where such services were readily available, I have never sought out the services of a prostitute. Even though New York City is extremely liberal and permissive, the idea of being with a woman, even a consenting adult, in such an act of intimacy for money has always been disturbing and not right to me and everyone I know. I never have forgotten the one scene in the film Klute where Jane Fonda plays a prostitute. While faking an orgasm, unbeknownst to the man she is with, she looks at her watch - the ultimate graphic depiction of the harsh reality of prostitution and the business of sex.

On the streets or online - neither arena has been a temptation. Nor have the transgressions of former New York governor Eliot Spitzer with Kristen served as any fuel for justifying this behavior. None for me, please ...

Flailing and Hailing

One of the most frustrating things for me to observe are people in the streets uselessly trying to hail a taxi, either by a) standing with an arm outstretched a la Our Lady of Liberty or b) frantically flailing their arms, when there is either no taxi in site or there are no taxis which are both unoccupied and on duty. I am convinced that very few understand the roof light system in use and its permutations. However, most have better things to do than study the New York City Taxi and Limousine Commission (TLC) rules and regulations files, which run hundreds of pages. So, as a former New York City taxi driver, let me extract the most salient pieces that actually impact the use of taxis, including roof lights.

On the roof of every taxi, there is a 4 digit taxi license number. When lit, the taxi is available, when unlit it is occupied. On either side, there are the words "off duty." When lit, technically the cab is off duty, typically heading back home; when unlit, the cab is available for hire or hired. What no one explains is that these lights can be lit or unlit in all four combinations and their meanings. So in the spirit of Pascal's Wager, I offer:

1) Number lit, Off Duty unlit: This is your main target. The taxi is on duty and unoccupied/available.

2) Number lit, Off Duty lit: Off duty and unoccupied. This is the thorny one. Technically the driver can pick you up if your destination is on route to his garage or home. If you are aggressive and approach a driver who is headed roughly in your direction, he may oblige. However, this is also the scam setting - many drivers will do this in order to be selective about who they pick up and where they will go, a violation of TLC rules.

3) Number unlit, Off Duty lit: The taxi is occupied as a result of condition 2.

4) Number unlit, Off Duty unlit: Typical occupied condition. The taxi is on duty and has a passenger.

Rule of thumb - keep an eye out only for taxis with the center number lit, and in the case of those also with the Off Duty lit, try to grab their attention and negotiate.

Another important thing to understand is that a yellow medallioned NYC taxi must take you anywhere you want to go in the five boroughs of New York City and by any route you choose. The women in the photo were heading to Brooklyn. The first cab they approached turned them down after they indicated they wanted to go to Brooklyn. It is not necessary to ask a driver on the street if he or she will go to your destination. Get in and tell him where you want to go. In the event of any refusal or other problem, make a note of his ID number, call 311 and report him.

From the TLC website:

§2-50 Refusals.

(a) A driver shall not seek to ascertain the destination of a passenger before such passenger is seated in the taxicab.

(b) A driver shall not refuse by words, gestures or any other means, without justifiable grounds set forth in §2-50(e) herein, to take any passenger to any destination within the City of New York, the counties of Westchester or Nassau or Newark Airport. This includes a person with a disability and any service animal accompanying such person.

I hope this mini taxi guide will keep you from unnecessary flailing and hailing :)

Cool Taxi Posts: Taxicab Fever, Garden in Transit, Insults to Injury, Jersey Girls, What numba Kissena, Sea of Yellow.

No Sir

I was discussing last evening the disarmingly polite ways of the southern American with a friend who has recently been vacationing there regularly (see my story, Luray Caverns, about my first experience there as a child). When working with customers on the phone, as I have over the years, I have noticed that with men from the South, every question I have asked in respect to their order has been answered with "Yes, Sir" or "No, Sir." Perhaps they have not traveled the roadways of New York City, where they may quickly want to trade their polite phraseology for some more appropriate expletives.

There are vistas common to New Yorkers who travel by car that are not often seen in photos, as they can only be seen by a vehicle on a roadway. The photo was taken in Brooklyn from the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway, heading north with views of the Brooklyn Bridge and Manhattan with the Empire State Building. The Brooklyn Heights promenade (with similar views of the city) looms overhead to the upper right. This view is particularly beautiful at night.

Prudent or not, I have resorted to shooting while driving to capture images with varying results. Digital cameras with various auto settings and the ability to immediately review shots make getting an acceptable "Hail Mary" possible.

On a recent excursion to Staten Island, a photographer friend was giving me a first ride in his new Mini Cooper. With its diminutive size, it is a popular car around New York City. My atypical position as passenger and the challenge of shooting overhead with no sunroof begged for at least an attempt at getting an acceptable photo while moving.

The vista in today's photo is one known to every Brooklynite or traveler who has plied his or her way between Brooklyn, Manhattan and Queens, using the infamous BQE. The beautiful views are rare and welcome eye candy and respite from a city plagued with unattractive, utilitarian highways usually snarled with traffic.

The BQE, the FDR, the Cross Bronx, the LIE, the Van Wyck, the Grand Central, the Prospect and the Belt. If you live and travel in this city, an acronym or truncated name for a highway is more than adequate to identify these common roadways. Any highway in New York which gives as much trouble to and tries the patience of the traveler, as these roads typically do, does not need to be addressed any more politely than with the shortest possible title. No Sir :)

Water 4 Dogs

One of the problems with dogs in New York City is using the word dog in the same sentence as problem. I have done that twice in the first sentence, so I imagine that I am in trouble already with dog owners.

Lest I be characterized as a dog hater, which is in the same realm as child haters, I do like dogs. New York City has 1.4 million dogs, which, I think it's fair to say, poses numerous problems and difficulties, the issues of toiletry being one of the biggest to non-owners.

In 1978, New York City, under Mayor Koch's administration, passed Health Law 1310, the first enforced “poop scoop law” in the country. Prior to that time, the city streets were a virtual minefield of animal waste, and a walk on the sidewalks or in the streets necessitated constant vigilance and agility, or you had to be prepared for the unpleasant task of shoe cleanup.

The city is not particularly hospitable to living creatures, be they plants or animals, dogs included. Days alone at home in small apartments and leash laws do little for their psychological well being. Dogs need off-the-leash time, and now parks have hours and specific locations for this activity. Many parks have also provided dog runs which include toilets.

New York is a city of work-arounds, accommodation, innovation, adaptation and resourcefulness. Dogs need drinking water, and in this summer's heat wave, the need is often dire. Owners prepare and respond to this need in a variety of ways, often carrying water. Others, caught unprepared, often enter retail shops and ask for a cup. Recently, I have noticed the frequency of a preemptive solution - many shop owners providing a bowl on the street with a sign like that in the photo, Water 4 Dogs :)

Other Dog Postings: a la Chien, Wolf Dog, Dog Run, Dog Dating, Robin Kovary Run for Small Dogs, Pet Pride Parade, Spring Madness.

Sticky

Skip the exterior. It's the opulent interior, second only to that of Radio City Music Hall, that counts. Go in, even if you must attend a concert that deafens you - the interior is Greco-Deco-empire with a Tudor palette. -AIA Guide to New York City

In 1982, I saw the elite Japanese taiko drumming troup Kodo's first American performance in New York City. My group of friends was absolutely astounded. My last visit to the Beacon Theatre (prior to this Sunday) was a big mistake - to see Kodo a second time and to introduce a friend to the group.

The Beacon had taken a beating after decades of rock concerts. The balcony seats were filled with people talking, cell phones ringing, and, to add insult to injury, one heavy man repeatedly taking bathroom breaks. The floors were so laden with the sticky residue of spilled drinks that there was a loud ripping sound when lifting his foot after every step.

We noticed the same effect as we lifted our feet while seated. This whole phenomenon became a source of great amusement and an exercise in controlled laughter. However, the whole experience was extremely disappointing - Kodo requires a quiet listening environment and complete attention to their nuanced performance, not all manner of noise, hilarity and contained laughter.

On Sunday, I went to the final performance of Cirque du Soleil's Banana Shpeel. I was pleasantly shocked to see the Beacon Theatre's decor after a recent renovation. See more photos here.

I was able to enjoy the opulent interior in all its former glory without seeing a "concert that deafens you" or listening to feet ripping away from sticky stuff :)

Note about the Beacon Theater: The Beacon was designed by Walter Ahlschlager and opened in 1929. In 1979, the historic venue was designated a national landmark and is on the National Register of Historic Places. Many of the greatest names in music have played the Beacon including the Rolling Stones, Jerry Garcia, Aerosmith, Michael Jackson, James Taylor, Radiohead, and Queen. The Allman Brothers hold an annual rite of spring concert series at the Beacon Theatre known as "The Beacon Run." Since 1989, they have performed 173 shows at the Beacon.

Read more about the Beacon here and here.

Eyes on the Signs

As Jerry Seinfeld once pointed out in one of his comedy routines, the beauty of clothing is that adjustments and improvements can always be made. But in the case of nudity, no tweaks are possible. Essentially the naked person is saying, this is the best that I can do.

In the classic episode The Apology, the distinction is made between good naked and bad naked - they were not talking about morality, only aesthetics. And when you get a large group who come from the general population and not the world of modeling or body building, you are sure to get plenty of bad naked. I know there are those that defend all bodies as beautiful, but I think in this case, I side with Seinfeld over artistic idealists.

Appropriate or inappropriate, legal or illegal, good naked or bad naked, public nudity is sure to draw attention, which is just what demonstrators get when "clothing optional" is part of the equation. See more of my photos of this event here.

However, anyone inclined to this type of strategy to make a political point had better realize that what will be remembered is often only the nudity. Lively discussions will occur during and after such a protest, but mostly over the details of how naked any participants were and how various body parts were covered or decorated. In fact, after the members of this ride left Washington Square Park, I showed a number of friends some of the photos I had taken - there was surprise regarding the rider who had painted "Oil is dead" on his back. Apparently the message and numerous signs regarding oil did not make itself clear.

Many observers will likely believe that this ride is just an expression of personal freedom or wild reckless abandon. There is an element of that, of course, once an event like this is under way. It is doubtful a ride like this will be dominated by the shy or prudish. The event does become an exhibitionist theater on wheels. However, the World Naked Bike Ride is an international annual event "to celebrate cycling and the human body. The ride demonstrates the vulnerability of cyclists on the road and is a protest against oil dependency."

The demonstration went smoothly in the park - there was plenty of reveling in the park's fountain. The police were quite tolerant, even though many of the male participants were completely nude and technically breaking the law. One officer was making his compulsory rounds chanting an obligatory "Put your clothes back on." The event is best served if riders keep their eyes on the road and observers keep their eyes on the signs :)

Respect 2

Visiting the battleships during Fleet Week in New York City is enormously popular, and in previous years I have made spontaneous visits on Memorial Day. This is a big mistake - docking of the ships at the city's piers is a well known event, and if you intend to board one, it behooves you to plan ahead and go early.

Lines are long, often resulting in cut offs for boarding that day. To date, I had never been successful boarding any of the ships during Fleet Week.

So, early Saturday morning, I headed to Pier 88 at West 46th Street. There were no lines at all, and I breezed through the entry cue area and boarded the USS Iwo Jima.

Tourists were allowed to board virtually all the various craft - tanks, amphibious vehicles and aircraft. On the flight deck, children were busy in cockpits. Part of one deck was set aside for displays of weaponry - little boys, big boys and men were all busy engaged and engrossed handling the various guns. A bit unnerving - guns are not toys, and war is not a video game. Soldiers know this, and all was well supervised by the Marines on board.

This ship is, of course, enormous, and as always, the sailors are extremely accommodating, patient and untiring, happy to answer any and all questions. I am sure many of the same questions are asked repeatedly throughout their duty with the service.

The city is awash with sailors during Fleet Week, who are very approachable either on the streets or aboard the ships. 


What has always stricken me is the respect military persons always show a complete stranger when approached and addressed. The dialog always conveys a sense of subordination, with you as a figure of authority. Responses are often appended with "yes, Sir" - something I rarely experience.

Although I do not relish or live in a world so predicated on chains of command and authority, I must admit the respect paid is a very welcome thing indeed in a place like New York where, although not the norm, there is always plenty of rudeness to go around...

Related Posts: Fleet Week 2009, Kearsage, Men in Uniform, Fleet Week (2006), Post-9/11 World.

Obsession Will Pass

I do not recall my specific needs, but some years ago, I visited John De Lorenzo & Brothers at 43 Grand Street in SoHo. The iron and sheet metal company, formed in 1907 and closed in 2008, had been recommended to me for welding. I never imagined that at some future date, the rooftop would support a huge billboard of a nude model (nearly nude with a strategically placed index finger). See more photos here and here.

The ad is for Katrice wedge sandals by designer Sam Edelman, modeled by Charlotte Kemp Muhl. The 22-year-old model/singer is signed with top agency Elite Model Management and has appeared in many national ad campaigns. She is currently the girlfriend of Sean Lennon. Together they have formed the company Chimera Music.

In America, there is an enormous amount of attention paid to exposure of the female breast. Laws govern very special anatomical limits - the requirement of pasties to cover nipples in bars etc. However, unbeknownst to many, in 1992, women in New York State won the right to go topless anywhere a man is permitted: The People &c., Respondent, v. Ramona Santorelli and Mary Lou Schloss, Appellants, et al., Defendants. Many are unaware of this ruling, including police officers - quizzing them will get varied and interesting responses.

The amount to which female breasts are exposed in public is like a societal time marker - as time passes, we move towards more exposure, with the nipple being the final and ultimate revelation. While some see this as a sign of a society in decline, others, particularly in Europe, see American views regarding the topless woman as being quite Victorian and concern to be over zealous. I am not sure what will happen if nudity becomes very common in advertising and television - whether society will implode or the obsession will pass :)