As some of you may remember from my previous post, I was planning on going to a friend's concert last night. Ill Pastel was scheduled to play a show (or, as my friend put it, melt off faces) at 9 p.m. in Connolly's Klub 45 on 45th Street between 6th and 7th Avenue.
Unfortunately, this location and time frame coincided with a man's (or, to be fair, possibly a woman's) plan to detonate a homemade bomb in Times Square. What. Are. The. Odds.
Of course, prior to the show we had no idea New York was under an amateur terrorist attack. That was probably the furthest thing from my mind, second only to the possibility of an alien invasion or a talking roach infestation.
It was a glorious day--more beautiful than any day has a right to be. I spent it with friends Kaci and Joel first seeing another friend's improv comedy troupe, Tickles, give a show at the Upright Citizens Brigade Theater, and then sitting outside at a restaurant called Wogie's in West Village sipping on ice cold cider.
From there we took the C train to 50th street and started to walk towards the Connolly's, excited about the show. It was only a few blocks before we saw the first police barricades.
"They're probably filming something," I said, and as soon as I said it I was convinced that it was true. Then Joel pointed out a camera crew and further confirmed the normalcy of the whole thing, until Kaci, our own veteran reporter, noticed that camera crew was actually a news crew.
She whipped out her phone and in seconds through the magical power of cellular phones with internet service discovered the truth: somebody had tried to blow up a car in Times Square using several propane tanks, a couple of gallons of gasoline, and some fireworks for good measure.
I know you'll think I'm crazy, but my honest reaction was, "Will we still be able to get to the show?"
The gravity of the situation just really didn't hit me. In my mind, this was a minor inconvenience, not a near-missed national disaster.
That seemed to be the general consensus of everyone milling about outside the barricade though. I kid you not. There was no real sense of panic in the crowd, just curiosity and, if tourists were blocked from their respective hotels or Broadway Shows, mild annoyance.
Still on a mission at this point, we walked as far as we could toward the bar until we got to a road block on 45th and 6th and saw the band standing on the corner with all of their instruments and equipment in a pile on the sidewalk. Not good.
The bar they were supposed to play at was within eyesight, but we might as well have been in another borough entirely for all the good it did us. We were stranded. Somebody suggested the band whip out their instruments and put on a street show; they seemed down, but had only brought electric equipment.
Hopeful that the situation would be taken care of soon and that we'd be able to get on with our plans eventually, we waiting around with the band and people watched a bit.
And there were plenty of people for watching.
All of the Times Square tourist crowd was milling about, taking pictures and participating in other general rubber-necking activities. There was also a troup of Navy men in all white uniforms that showed up looking very young and very unsure of what it was exactly they were supposed to be doing. The crowd also included, oddly enough, a ton of police officers on horseback that must have come down from Central Park. I very much hoped they'd galloped.
After waiting around with the band for a half an hour, it became clear that the police weren't letting people through any time soon. So, I said goodbye to my buddies in the band, told them to text me if they got in at any point, and headed from there to Mont Blanc, an eastern European restaurant with the best $6 homemade fruit-infused vodka martinis you've ever had in your life. At this point, we could all use a drink.
A couple of martinis and everything seemed dandy again. We left the restaurant around 11 and started walking back to my place. After so much excitement, I was ready to call it an early night. Unfortunately, NYPD had other plans.
By the time we were done with dinner, the barricades had been extended a couple of blocks. My apartment was now officially within the evacuated zone, leaving me essentially homeless.
Mustering my liquid courage, I approached a police officer behind the barricade and asked him, in so many words, what the deal was and when I could expect to get back home.
"Not right now," was the most specific he would get. "Talk a walk, grab a cup of quoffee (they pronounce coffee with a "q" up here) and come back in an hour. Mebbe then."
Knowing how the barricades had only gotten progressively more intense since 9 p.m. that evening, I thought that it was doubtful at best that they would lift them in the time it took for me to grab my recommended quoffee.
Kaci and Joel offered me prime couch real estate at their apartment in Murray Hill and I gratefully accepted.
So, not exactly what I expected from my Saturday night, but I guess it's always nice to survive an attempted terrorist attack three blocks from your apartment. Read more about it and see video of me talking to the police officer on Kaci's blog where she regularly reports on breaking NY news!
She took the accompanying pic of evacuated Times Square. It was a total ghost town behind those police lines. Very eerie.
I had a friend in town last weekend, so of course the voice in my head telling me I really ought to update my blog (the voice has an English accent, kind of like the one that seems to be used for all GPS systems) became softer and softer until it was more like a British ant squeaking unintelligible gibberish at me from a far-away corner on my dirty kitchen floor (thus further muffled by dust bunnies).
So, long story short, here I am sitting at my computer, guilt-ridden and eager to make it up to anyone who noticed my week-long lapse.
My friend Tyler and I spent the weekend drinking cheap red wine out of champagne flutes (recently broke my wine glasses… all two of them…sad, but true story) and preparing for his big-kid job interview on Monday. We’re hoping he lands a gig in finance up here and we can be roomies and have entirely too much fun living together. It will be probably the most beautiful train wreck ever seen.
Looking forward to it, Tyler!
One thing I noticed this weekend between suit fittings and hipster parties in BK was the awesome and eclectic music scene up here. It’s not something I really think about a lot (I’m tone deaf and, at best, a horrible karaoke singer so I’m not exactly equipped to be a proper music junkie) but New York really has some highly talented, highly underappreciated artists, and Tyler and I stumbled upon several over the course of one of the evenings he was in town, some purposefully and some randomly, but all were noteworthy in their own quirky ways.
Take the “saw lady” we discovered in Union Square subway station. There are actually a lot of musicians down there, including a pretty impressive tap group, but I’ll focus on the one with the sharp instrument (couldn't resist) for obvious reasons. She was pretty amazing and after looking her up I discovered she has a blog where she writes about what it's like to be a busker in NYC.
We were heading from the subway to a party in Brooklyn, and then after that to the Lower East Side to see a band my friend is in, The Eliki and Lalo Project, play at Nuyorican. I found this youtube video of them at rehearsal, not sure if they're rehearsing for the gig that they played that Saturday, but they're singing a song they sang that night and sound just as awesome (even if the camera work is a little off...) She has a really throaty, Amy Winehouse/Sara Bareilles-ey voice I could listen to all night long, and Lalo's guitar accompaniment was perfect for her sound.
After their set, Lalo, a friend of mine from my first job in NYC (a waitressing gig at a Mexican restaurant) came out with us to a nearby bar.... my memory's a little fuzzy as to exactly which one, but, other than that, I remember this next part of the evening perfectly.
A street band I later found out that calls itself The Stumblebumscrashed the bar unscheduled, unannounced, and, out of nowhere, commenced playing their horns and belting out lyrics at the top of their lungs. The bartendress and patrons looked confused at first, but soon everyone was caught up in the energy of it and started yelling right along to lyrics they never knew they knew. Here's a video of them singing the song they graced us with that evening.
They only played two songs, and when they were through the crowd chanted "One more song! One more song!"
"Can't," explained the frontman. "Gotta go to the next bar."
And a part of me wanted to follow.
So, all in all, it was an evening of very varied, very original musical talent. And, next weekend I get to go see Ill Pastel, another friend's band, play a show at Connolly's Klub 45 from 9-midnight. Anyone in the area who can make it should definitely come out!
***I'm dedicating this post to my brother, a student and busker down in New Orleans where he plays for tips in the French Quarter. Though he may now change his tune (again, couldn't help it...) he once told me he wasn't interested in the NYC music scene. Too commercial. Well, Haydon, I think the Saw Lady might see things differently. And you should probably listen to what she has to say. I mean, she does carry around a saw...
Although the temperature's a cool 58 degrees, you wouldn't know it by the abundance of bare legs and tank-topped tanners milling about Times Square. The skies are a crisp, happy blue and the sun, though often blocked by an unfortunately located tall building, is shining bright, bright, bright.
It's a beautiful spring day in the city. One of our first, and I ventured out amongst the masses in search of 5$ sunglasses to celebrate the occasion.
During the course of my search I came across a character very common in the Times Square area that you probably can't find anywhere else in the world and who I've been meaning to write about because, the man's occupation is funny enough to be it's own television show theme, let alone the main subject of a measly blog post. This person is the Obama Condom Saleman, or, although a bit rarer, Saleswoman.
When I first came across this guy with his clever political quips and human-sized poster strapped to his back yelling "Obama condoms! For hard times!" and "Obama condoms, your very own stimulus package!" (they get progressively raunchier... I should probably stop here. You get the gist.) I had to laugh out loud. He looked ridiculous and knew it and rocked it. And was one of the most popular vendors in TS. And still is.
The enterprise has since grown to an entire crew of Obama Condom Salespeople scattered throughout the 4-6 block radius that encompasses Times Square. I've heard all the sales pitches by this point and rarely laugh, although most tourists get a kick out of gimmick. Not all, though.
A few months ago I was walking back from my local grocery store, lugging a week's worth of food past the stand that always asks me to donate to the homeless, usually stationed half a block away from an actual homeless person.... I always think it's ironic that the homeless shelter charity is competing with their own beneficiaries for revenue... but I digress.
After the charity stand there's usually an Obama Condom Salesman on the next corner. That day there was. He was giving his usual spiel, grinning and waving the condoms yelling something like "Obama condoms! You're not a true supporter unless he's inside you!"
Most people laughed, I gave a weak grin and trudged on, nearly home, with my heavy, heavy groceries. Then something happened that made me stop in my tracks and set them down on the sidewalk beside me.
Apparently, somebody didn't find our Obama Condom Salesman nearly as funny as everyone else did and, to express his personal displeasure at this mockery of our president, ran at the Salesman like a bull charging a torero and side-tackled him to the ground.
And, just as quickly, hopped up and proceeded to flee the scene of the crime.
Well, our Obama Condom Salesman, a young redheaded man of 23 or so, probably a struggling actor or comedian only donning this undignified career hat to financially support his dreams, was rightfully shocked. He seemed to have trouble getting up, what with his human-sized poster strapped to his back making him top-heavy and movement awkward.
When he finally got to his feet the culprit was a block out of range. Obama Condom Salesmen then called out to one of his own, a fellow dealer of racy rubbers at the opposite corner, screaming, "Hey, Mike, get that guy!"
He and Mike took off "catch that thief" scene-style in hot pursuit of the unfortunately misguided political activist practicing violent protest.
After that, I laughed harder than I ever had at their zany sales pitches and watched the chase until they were swallowed by the TS crowd. Then I picked up my groceries and continued on my way.
This is one of two fights I've witnessed in Times Square that happen to also be the only two fights I've ever witnessed in my life.
The second one involved a man sucker-punching another man in the face who then fell into the middle of an active intersection. The first man had yelled mid-swing,"You need to respect human life!" I'm convinced it was an antiabortionist and got a kick out of the fact that he tried to teach respect of human life by injuring a fellow human being.
Who knew Times Square was such an active political forum?
*** Weekly question of utmost importance:
Is there a political issue that you feel strongly enough about that you'd come to very public blows over? What, if anything? Comment below or click on a response in the poll to the right.
