Anti-Pickpocket Maneuverability and Volunteer Beach Patrolling

You know that feeling the day after you go to an amusement park when you're lying in bed, and you still feel the momentum of the roller coaster as if you are falling down?  That's how I feel right now.  That is how much time I've spent riding the metro lately.

But it's not a "fun" falling feeling.  It doesn't make me want to throw my hands in the air and stick my tongue out at the camera.  It's the feeling like you're typing at your computer and 4 dwarves are holding up the legs of your chair and occasionally rocking it, making you feel like you are going to fall over.

Two days ago (Sunday) I visited the beach, in Spanish "the playa".  My original intention was to get up early Saturday and go, but that did not happen.  It was already late in the day and I figured it would be futile.  Sunday, I once again had a slow start, thinking that I had missed my chance.  Furthermore, the forecast said that rain was on the way.  But seeing as this was my last free day, I bit the bullet and said dammit, I'm going to the beach.


In order for me to get to my destination, Long Beach, I had to take the metro to Penn Station and buy a ticket for the Long Island Railroad.  I have since learned that just because something is called "Railroad" does not necessarily make it any more comfortable or any less pukey-smelling than the Subway.

Penn Station was not what I expected it to look like.  I expected it to look like Grand Central, except with Penn Station Sub locations.  I didn't find subs.  Instead, the tunnels from the metro stop at Penn Station sloped through the cavernous underground and slowly began to morph into something that looked like an airport.

where's the subs?

As often happens, when I was waiting for my train a raggedy-looking man approached me and started by saying, "hey hey, I'm not asking for money..."   I said "Sorry," and walked away.  I felt like crap when I walked away.  I legitimately know by now that it's a bad idea to talk to solicitors, whatever their intentions are, just because you never know what will happen.  I couldn't appreciate that fact before I came here; that you have to have rules for literal survival (sort of like in Zombieland?).   But man, do you feel like crap turning your back on somebody who might just want something to eat.  This sort of thing has happened countless times.  But this one in particular just left me with a pit in my gut.

It's shale gray dark outside and raining, as I type this.  This is what I picture London to look like.  Mid-apocalypse, rainy London.

I had about a half hour to kill before the my train left, so I walked through swarms of people, practicing anti-pickpocket maneuverability, and I also flipped through some magazines.

It was a long, overcast train ride to Long Beach.  But I swear as soon as we reached Long Beach, by some miracle, the SUN appeared!  Long Beach was awesome, and surprisingly homey considering its proximity to the city.  When I got off the train I spotted a Five Guys chain.  Note:  eat at Five Guys later.

from top to bottom:  sky, water, earth.  What else do you need, eh?

I remember being on the beach by myself, and reminding myself about the importance of maintaining an attitude of "child-like wonder" throughout all of my escapades.  Then I realized I was on the beach, and that wouldn't be too hard.

The waves were pretty huge, and I decided to go into the water (despite my initial reaction when I stepped into the waves, which was thinking that 'this undertow is really strong').  In fact, I didn't go in past my waist because 'this undertow is really strong'.  I stood firm and poised, working on my balance in case I ever decided to join a yoga group.  I would show up on the first day of class and do some crazy one-legged pretzel maneuver and everyone would say Wow, this guy has really great balance.  I am impressed.  By his ability.  To balance.

Not only was I testing the fortitude of my own center of gravity, I was testing the integrity of the ocean itself.  I would ensure that it was not too mean to its inhabitants or human visitors.  I was volunteer beach patrolling.

Then an actual member of the beach patrol approached me, scolded me, and told me to stay "between the flags".  Apparently they had already "officially" confirmed that 'this undertow is really strong,' and set up flagged barriers that were entirely visible to everyone, except apparently me.  I was at least 50 yards further from where I should have been.

After I got yelled at I carried my sand-bagged bum shamefully off the beach and decided to reclaim the day via a delicious Five Guys burger.  When my burger arrived in front of my person, I was upset.

Whoever cooks the burgers decided to flatten my patties such that half of my burger was hanging off the bun.  My burger had a meat skirt.  **For all fry cooks reading this who may one day cook me a burger, do NOT give my masculine burger a meat skirt.  I shouldn't have eaten the burger, it wasn't right.  But I had to put it out of its misery, its shame.

On the bright side, I am pretty sure all the sunshine killed the poison ivy I had on my ankles (don't ask me how I got poison ivy in New York City...  the Taylor Swift shoot.  I got poison ivy on the Taylor Swift shoot.)

"oh cool times square! michael, tell us about times square!"

"no."

Lady and Man Liberty

I draw very strong associations in my mind between James Taylor and every earthy/woodsy place I've ever been in the United States.  Specifically, places on highways that are in the middle of nowhere.  When I was younger, my family used to drive up to Boston for a family party every summer, and among the CDs we heard were James Taylor, the Bee Gees, and Earth Wind & Fire.  I think Roxette was in there somewhere, but we don't talk about that.  But every summer, listening to James Taylor rolling down I90/MassPike, we'd literally hike our way from Cleveland, and "Stockbridge to Boston".

I'm listening to James Taylor and that really only means one thing.  I'm ready to come home.  I'm ready to be "Homeward Bound".  Oh no, here comes Simon & Garfunkle...  (once the acoustic nostalgia begins it snowballs.)  It's great being here but I will be glad to be back in Cincinnati.  Heck, I will be glad to be on an airplane looking down on rivers and wondering where did it learn to look that cool?  I miss things being cool just because they naturally exist cool.

I was in a clothing store in SoHo yesterday after I got out of work and there was a quote on the wall that said "effortless cool is a detailed process."  First of all, that quote perfectly describes the hipster movement.  Second of all... what the hell??

In that same store I decided to try on some clothes(the sole purpose of my excursion was to try on clothes that I would never ever buy.)  I was experimenting with various shades of tool, and these clothes were definitely tooly.  I have a weird 'love-hate relationship' with many of these clothing stores.  On one hand, it is fun to go in and see the absurd things that people buy, and try on the most ridiculous/expensive thing in the store, just for fun.  I have no intention of buying a button-down that costs $180 or a t-shirt that costs $75.  What do I look like?  On the other hand, I also get this fun-depressed urge to commit arson, and burn the store to the ground.  (To be clear:  this is the "hate" part of the love-hate bi-angle.)

*For all you literalists out there, I don't actually mean to commit arson.  If it makes you feel better, you can think of "burn" the way that Elvis means it, or Nickelback, or Usher, or in that Disco Inferno song.

After I went to SoHo, I decided to go to the tip of Manhattan to ride the Staten Island Ferry.  I wanted to see lady Liberty.  She looks green, unwell.  She's probably tired from holding that torch up for so long.  How many years has it been now, 10?  I can't remember.  You'd think that the French government would build a Man Liberty next to her, to help her hold the torch, or at least to give her somebody to chat with.

MAN LIBERTY:  Oh, hi, Lady Liberty? (nervous, holding flowers)


LADY LIBERTY:  Oh, hey.

MAN LIBERTY:  Do you mind if I join you?

LADY LIBERTY:  Oh yeah sure... no problem.  Now you decide to show up.

MAN LIBERTY:  (unsure of what to say)  Well... I, I brought you some flowers.  From France!  You remember France, right?

LADY LIBERTY:  No.  I don't remember France.  And I am SOOO glad that you brought me flowers (American sarcasm).  This is just great (sarcasm).  Just what I need, something else to hold (more sarcasm).  Look everybody!  Two hands!

MAN LIBERTY:  (a bit embarrassed)  I just...  I'm sorry, I didn't know I'd offend you.

LADY LIBERTY:  Look dude, they sent you to help me hold this thing.  I get that.  I appreciate it.  But it's a shade over a century late... (eyes watering) I can't even feel my fingers anymore.  And you come in here, with your shiny copper tan... (waterworks) I can't do this...

MAN LIBERTY:  (steps in and takes torch, she sobs with head in hands) Hey, it's okay.  It's going to be okay.

LADY LIBERTY:  Really?

MAN LIBERTY:  Yes, or my name isn't "Man Liberty".  Wow this is heavy.  Can you hold it while I tie my shoe?

LADY LIBERTY:  Get off my island.

END SCENE/(TREASON?)

So my experience on the Staten Island Ferry was great, and I took lots of pictures.  There were a bunch of high school kids looking around for a phone charger on the ship, a woman who nursed a Heineken from South Ferry to Staten Island, and a bi-racial couple from Eastern Europe who made it into one of my pictures.  Speaking of pictures, PICTURE TIME!

if anybody speaks 'that', email me with the translation.

Lady Lib. 

staten island dock, looking at manhattan 

 Michael's perspective

the "Lonely Island"

In conclusion, while I'm excited for this last week, I will be more than happy to finally get back to Ohio.  I miss people that I know and love.

Enjoy this great tune by James Taylor titled "Shower the People".  It's easy to forget the people that are really important in your life, but so incredibly important to let them know that you still care about them.
James Taylor - "Shower the People"


.

New Yamsterdork (least exciting post, to date.)

I can't believe I'm already approaching my 3-week mark.  I have just 8 more full days here, and then I depart from New York to Louisville.  Then from Louisville, to Cincinnati.

New York was named after, of course, the Duke of York.  It was previously named after Ronaldo Amsterdam, and when the Duke of York stepped in on the naming rights, Ronaldo was pissed.  The "New" in "New Amsterdam" and "New York" is derived from the fact that both of these men were newborn babies.  Anyway, so this is how the dispute went down.  According to scholars, the two babies decided to duel it out - infant style, on the shores of New Yamsterdork.  And I bet you can guess the ending.  Ronaldo Amsterdam shot Dukey square between the brows.  But it was a slingshot; he was fine.  Later that week Ronny Amsterdam was deported back to Europe, because his parents missed him.  Thus, New York.

Louisville was initially named after King Louis of Russia.  Or wait, that's not right.  It was Saint Louis of Russia.  What am I talking about...  Louisville was named after St. Louis, Missouri.

Cincinnati, surprisingly enough, was actually only recently discovered.  During the whole Y2K scare, people all along the Ohio-West Virginia, Ohio-Pennsylvania border decided that they would not be safe from the impending "two zero zero zero" monster in the mountains, so they all panicked and jumped into the Ohio River and washed up like bloated seals on the shores of Cincinnati.  Just then, the clock struck midnight, and there was no monster to be found!  "This place is great!"  they collectively cheered.  And then a crazy guy said "Cinnamon Cinnamon Nature and Tigers!"  The Cincinnatians threw him in the river.  But the name stuck.

But enough about them, lets talk about me!

As you can probably tell, I don't have much to report.  I just wanted to blog.  Or did I...

I recently bought a book called "Mr. Funny Pants" and despite the name, it is probably the funniest book I've ever read.  I can't read it in public because I can't stop laughing.  And I usually read it in my hostel, which is filled with foreigners.  And foreigners obviously can't understand American laughter, because I'm laughing in English.  I just get confused stares.

This morning when I got off the subway it smelled like the ocean, and there was a nice breeze.  It was awesome.  It also smelled like locomotion exhaust, mixed with a hundred sweaty goats, and pesticides.  But it was like, half ocean, half gross stuff.  It's kinda like when you get an iced coffee from Starbucks.  It's like yeah, I know this is really just half a cup of coffee...  I'm getting ripped off here.  I just gotta drink if quickly before the ice melts.

It doesn't work the same way with air, as it turns out.  I started choking on invisible stuff.  No more saltwater, please!

There's a sign on the door of my hostel dorm that reads: "Extra Blue Blankets", with an arrow pointing down.  To the floor.  I saw no blankets, so I figured they must be under the carpet.  But when I wrenched up the carpet all i found were nickels and pennies and bodies.

Where are those blankets?

 photo caption!

awesome park on the west side 

'cool stories, hostel'

Thirty-Two.

I feared that this would happen.  Rather than immediately blog about day 2 of the Taylor Swift shoot, I put it off to give myself time to recover, and as a result the two days of shooting have started to mush together in my brain making it difficult for me to recall events that occurred.  But I needed a day to recover; Monday was literally an 18 hour work day.  Yep, I was working from 7:30am and remained on set until 1:30am that night.  Woe is me, right?  Wrong!

Despite the fact that in a two-day span, I worked 32 out of a total 48 hours, it was overall one of the coolest experiences of my life to date (can I re-emphasize THIRTY TWO?).  And I think I can try and yank those memories from their deathbeds.   So here's a little bit of day two to satisfy your salivating star-crazed palate.

We arrived on set around 8, and I was hungry.  I mean, really hungry.  So I looked around and saw this awesome breakfast buffet.  And mind you, the buffet from the day before didn't have scrambled eggs or croissants.  So I filled up a plate with these delicious scrambled eggs, a croissant, some grapefruit slices, and a cup of whole milk.  I sat there and I ate it.  Obviously I started with the eggs.  This is very exciting for you, isn't it?  It was for me.  What?  You don't want to hear about my breakfast?  How dare you.  I put my heart and soul into this blog, you ignorant bastion of literary and culinary snobbery.  Eggs are at the top of the food pyramid, and it is high time everyone start respecting the natural hierarchy.  Respect.  The egg.  Are you fed up with this paragraph yet?  Have you moved on?  Or are you still waiting for me to talk about she who must not be named?  Fine.  Taylor  Swift.  Are we happy now?

Most of the day was spent shooting a very difficult scene inside the house.  It was difficult because there were lots of angles.  It probably took longer than it should have, but I'm not allowed to have thoughts like that, because I'm a PA.  I'm not allowed to look at a set and think it would look awesome if there were more lighting on the label of the product.  I'm allowed to look at a set and think it would look awesome if that empty water bottle were removed from the floor and placed in the garbage.  Yeah, that'd look sweet.


It was actually kind of frustrating having this particular series of shots take so long, but something cool did happen.  Here's a story: a Taylor story: the kind of story that you come to my blog to read about.  DO YOU EVEN KNOW MY NAME???

I was standing at the bottom of a marble staircase.  In the takes, Taylor had to walk halfway down this staircase.  I was seriously just standing around then, and one of the producers came up to me and gave me a tall Starbucks iced coffee.  At first I thought it might be for me, but then I remembered my serfhood.  Then I looked at the straw, which had the little piece of paper still at the top, the Starbucks version of "the cherry on top" (... cheap bastards.)  But then I knew.  I knew that I had just been handed Taylor's drink.

I knew this because the producer told me "This is Taylor's drink.  I'm going to tell her assistant that you have it."  NOoooooooo don't tell the freaking assistant!  I want to give her the coffee!  The thing is, nobody is supposed to give Taylor food or drink except Taylor's assistant.  So my strategy was to just stand their like a statue and not talk to anybody, because as soon as I did, they would find me and take the drink away.  What do you think happened next?

One of the crew guys approached me and asked whose coffee that was.  I whispered, "It's Taylor's coffee."  And then I made a pathetic little hand motion that explained to him I'm holding it right here (pointing down), and you don't need to panic (thumbs up), everything is going to be okay (connect pointer finger with thumb).  But I was panicking inside, because he was going to take the drink.

"Oh really?" he said, "Well I'm going to find Taylor's assistant because she should really be the one holding that."  My hand-miming hadn't convinced him of shit.  I thought on my feet, "Well Brooke told me to stay here with the drink."  Which she had actually said.  "Oh alright, well then just hang tight there."

Everything was cool, but he was still looking for the assistant - he found her.  And he came back to me and said "Okay Mike, so Taylor's assistant is at the top of the staircase and can't come down, so at the end of this take, we're going to cut and you just bring the coffee to Taylor."  And that's what happened.  When they yelled cut, Taylor just kept coming down the stairs and I met her halfway up.

Let me describe it to you this way - because it is the only way of describing the moment that actually makes any sense.  Do you remember at the end of Titanic when they do that awesome zoom into the sunken ship, and it comes to life, and Rose meets Jack at the top of the staircase for one final time?  That is exactly what this was like, except Taylor was DiCaprio and I was Kate Winslet.  As I approached the stairwell, everyone on set was looking at me, nodding their heads and smiling, but deep down thinking I hope the PA doesn't mess this up.  And then I retorted back to shipbuilder Thomas Andrews, "Yeah Andrews, hope you don't mess up either!"  Ouch!

And then I almost tripped.  Thank God I didn't, but I nearly did.  Okay we're gonna sink this Titanic metaphor.  Back to Glen Cove.

"I'll never let go of your drink."

I approached her and said cheerfully "Here is your coffee".  And she said "Oh thank you so much!"  I could tell that she was parched.  So that makes me like the hero... right?  Anyway, she took the paper top off the straw, and I stood there and waited for her to finish drinking.  I said "I can take your garbage for you if you'd like."  She said "That'd be great thanks!"  For anybody who still isn't convinced, or perhaps is jealous of her, Taylor is a very friendly, kind-hearted person.  That was one of the coolest things to happen that day.

Now I will tell you about an equally cool thing that happened, but very briefly.  Before the male actor showed up on set, I got to act as a stand-in for him.  Obviously Taylor had a stand-in as well, but I befriended Taylor's stand-in that day and we chatted for a long time while we were standing around waiting for the cameras to get ready.  I also was pal'ing it up with the actual male actor, whose name was also Mike.

We had dinner at 9:30 that night.  We weren't even supposed to, but the shoot was just taking that long.  It's just one of those things that happened, and it was the reason why we didn't leave Woo....th Mansion until 1:30 in the morning.  Those last 4 hours were grueling.  You know that feeling in class, where the last 5 minutes just seem to drag and drag and drag?  Picture that, but apply it to the last FOUR HOURS. I'm not mad or anything, I mean I was on set and getting paid for it.  But I am still feeling the effects of an 18-hour work day, two days later.

My experience with the Taylor shoot was really great.  There's a lot of production drama that went on behind the scenes that I can't talk about, and I didn't even know about a lot of it until after we had finished the shoot.  But overall it was awesome being around that.  For a first celebrity shoot (and I don't think it will be the last... keep your eyes peeled this next week for another potentially awesome shoot), Taylor Swift was a cool one to do.  Because she is just so down to earth, and I think that's the way a lot of celebrities are.  Honestly, I think many of them are just surrounded by idiots and jerks, and we forget they are human too.  I swore that I wouldn't write a "moral of the story," damnit...

Shutting up now.