Parades (again)

I love parades. I love the bands, the floats, the excited crowd gathered together to watch the parade. This is what I thought for many years. I have asked Pumpkin to remind me, the next time I say “let’s go watch the parade” that I love the CONCEPT of the parade; the parade itself, not so much.

On the weekend of Halloween we were in the Big City. I had volunteered to work with Central Park Medical Unit (cpmu.com) for the NYC Marathon on November 1. I truly enjoy working EMS at the Marathon as it puts into perspective for me why all things should be done in moderation. (Congratulations. You just ran 26.2 miles. Let’s go to the hospital).

Because were in the city on Saturday evening I thought to myself, “I’ve never been to the Halloween Parade in Greenwich Village. We should do that.” Like many of my ideas, this needed, but did not receive, more thought.

Saturday afternoon Pumpkin returned to the apartment from her visit with her family at approximately 4pm. The parade was due to begin at 7pm. I said, hey, let’s get there early so we can find a good spot. Pumpkin, having done some on-line research, informed me that there was a “street fair” on Madison Avenue from 57^th street to 42^nd Street. Maybe we can stop there first. So, off we went.

The walk to the street fair was fairly short; only three “avenue blocks”. When we arrived the first vendor we found was a Filipino barbeque. Hense, lunch/dinner. We then walked the length of the street fair to 42^nd street. Street fairs are common events in the Big City on the weekends. I’ve discussed them previously. If you have forgotten, these are a gathering of vendors selling crap. The week before I bought two knit caps (or as I recently learned, they are called toque), two t-shirts, a line splitter for headphones so that Pumpkin and I can watch DVDs of CSI in the airport as well as sausage on a roll and roasted corn on the cob. There is nothing of great value being sold at these street fairs. They exist only to further the commercial interests of the vendors, and to screw up traffic.

Upon arriving at 42^nd street I decided, without consulting Pumpkin, that it was only 28 more blocks to the parade, so we should walk. In this case, 20 blocks equals a mile.

When we arrived at 14^th street we walked over to sixth avenue, where we spotted a McDonalds with second floor windows overlooking the parade route, with no one taking up those spaces. We immediately went in and ordered another meal. We we arrived upstairs we found access to the window area blocked. It appears the management had decided to save that space for the friends and family of the management of the McDonalds.

Really, what was I thinking? If you own prime real estate in Manhattan you don’t just let some dolt sit there and watch the parade. Besides, if the space had been available to the public someone was likely going to get hurt. In hindsight, they made a good decision.

So, we stand outside on the sidewalk to wait to watch the parade. We found a spot of sidewalk that gave us a reasonably good view above the crowd that had already gathered. It was approximately 6 pm. At about 6:30 the crowd got much thicker. At about 6:45, the sidewalk was impassable. We stood our ground. At about 6:50 the cops moved the crowd barriers about 10 feet into the street, moving the entire crowd with the barriers. We stood our ground. At 7:15 we have no sign of the parade, which has started approximately 16 blocks south of us. At 7:30, still no parade, but no it has started to drizzle. Pumpkin is now leaning on me, and I am leaning on the frame of a “sidewalk shed” The shed is giving us some protection from the drizzle, so we are lucky in that way. There is a bolt on the frame of the shed sticking in my back. There is no place to move, so I’m stuck. At approximately 7:45 the parade arrives. The sky opens up and it begins to pour. Everyone in front of us produces an umbrella, so now we cannot see the street. The wind begins to blow so now we have the rain in our faces. A change of plans is made and we head, as best as was possible, to the nearest subway station.

The station in question was the 14^th Street station, which is one of the few stations where you have to enter on the correct side of the street to get the correct train. We were on the wrong side of the street, and it was not going to be possible to cross the street. We boarded a downtown bound train, even though we wanted to go uptown. This was fun as the train was over crowded, everyone on the train appeared to have just come in from the rain and is fair to say that many of them had been consuming adult beverages. When we arrived at the next station, 4^th street, and the doors opened, we popped out like bread from a toaster.

At 4^th Street you can change directions. We took a train to 42^nd street where we got off and went to see a movie “Saw VI”, which is what Pumpkin had wanted to do from the start of the evening.

So, the new rule is, I love parades. I will just, in the future, enjoy them from a distance.

A Walk In The Woods

There are hazards to being at home during the day. Pumpkin and I are heading to Houston tomorrow. Although we have not had much rain in the past few weeks, I needed to cut the grass. I water the front yard, so it continues to grow. Doing this makes no sense, as it only adds to my work load, but I do it anyway. When I had the irrigation system installed I assumed it was required for suburban living. They don't issue instructions when you move to the suburbs like they do when you move to the city.

Today's story is about meeting the neighbors.

I was in the middle of the job of cutting the back yard's grass when I looked up and saw a man wearing a floppy hat, holding a walking stick in his right hand and in his left hand was a small child. I turned off the lawn mower and said "That child isn't mine".

The gentleman asked if I could help. He and his grandson had been taking a walk in the woods and now did not know where they were, or how to return home. I asked where he lived, and he said "I don't know. Let me think.".

Once in awhile I hear on the scanner a call for the police to look for a senior citizen who has wandered away from home. Today he found me.

After a few seconds he remembered the name of the street on which he lives. I'm embarrassed to say that I needed to call the fire department's dispatcher to ask where the street was located. After all, this is both my fire and ambulance district. You would think I should know this. To tell you the truth, when I'm responding to an emergency on a fire truck or an ambulance I use a device called a map. John the dispatcher gave me good directions to the gentleman's home.

For the sake of this story, the gentleman's name is John, and the little boy's name is Timmy. John is 80 and is retired from Kodak. Timmy is three, and likes to take walks with Pa Pa. Timmy spends the day with Pa Pa and his grandmother while his mother works. When I first saw Timmy I thought he was a girl. He has a style of haircut that is best described as "mop head". He was also wearing a hoodie. I learned all this as I walked with them back to their house. I have owned a house in this neighborhood since July of 2006. I didn't even know that we had woods, let alone that you could get lost in them. I have since looked at a satellite image of the area, and the woods are actually large enough that I'm not planning on going into them without a compass, flashlight, sleeping bag, snack and tent.

John, Timmy and I walked back to their house. About two blocks before arriving one of John's neighbors pulled up in her car and got out. She had been sent by John's wife to look for the wanderers. My job was done. Now I needed to walk back home.

I had big plans for my day, and these plans did not include a cardio walk through the Town of Chili. They also didn't include time for me to report on my activities on this blog, so it seems my time is flexible.

My life in the suburbs has been largely uneventful. The neighbors next door just removed their above ground pool so that they can build an in ground pool. That was exciting. They gave me three hostas that they had to dig up. I planted them today. That was fun. When I'm cutting the grass someone I know might stop to say hello. Last week, when I was cutting the grass I got to meet the new dog that has moved in two houses down. That was nice. It's rare that I actually get to help someone. I'm glad that, in the suburbs, if you are 80 and in the the early stages of Alzheimer's (his words, not mine), you can approach a fat, bald, white guy in shorts and a sweaty t-shirt to ask for help getting home. I would like to think you could also do that in the Big City. Chances are, given the opportunity, most people would walk John and Timmy home.

I'm certain you would.

Harvest Time

When I was a kid my father would warn me about the hazards of living where we did. Whenever he would park the car downtown he would remind me to lock the doors. In the community where we lived, if your car was found unlocked and unattended you ran the risk of finding a grocery bag of zucchini when you returned.

This past week our next door neighbor knocked on the front door. Pumpkin answered to find our neighbor with a bunch of home grown produce. She only has a few plants on the side of her house, but it appears she underestimated the power of zucchini.

Pumpkin didn't know what to do with the zucchini. It was the size of a gallon of milk. I suggested she bake zucchini bread. She had not heard of such a thing. It appears that the Philippine diet does not include baked goods containing vegetables. Let's put this in perspective. This is the same culture that values bean and cheese ice cream. No kidding.

So, she looked up the recipe and baked two loaves of zucchini bread and a zucchini bundt cake. All of this is working out great for me. I get my vegetables and my sweets at the same time.

All this multicultural stuff seems to be a good thing.

Missed Opportunity

When I left the apartment this morning I walked past some construction equipment on Broadway in front of the Ed Sullivan Theater. I remember saying to Andrew "it looks like they are doing something stupid on Letterman today".

The parking in my neighborhood is limited on the best of days. When the "Late Show" does something outside their theater/studio they usually eat up some of the available parking. They also usually block traffic on 53rd street, which is my route to and from the grocery store. It is just what happens in The Big City, and we get used to it. That doesn't mean we like it. Part of the attraction of The Big City to tourists is that they get to visit places that appear on television and in the movies. The prevailing thought among policy makers is that all of this disruption is good for the city's economy.

There is some debate as to how much economic impact film and television production has on New York City. Where there can be no debate however is the impact the Letterman show has on my nap time. If I try to take a snooze between 4:30 and 6:00 pm I run the risk of disrupted sleep. Usually the disruption is Letterman's interns warming up the studio audience while they are still standing on the sidewalk waiting to get into the theater. Occasionally it is crowd noise from the exterior activity.

Usually, when Letterman's show is doing one of these exterior shots it is so they can drop pumpkins off the roof of the building, or build a swimming pool on 53rd St. for synchronized swimming. I personally find this stuff amusing, unless it interrupts my life in some way. Today I was amused as I had already found a parking spot the previous evening. At about 8:00 AM this morning Andrew and I loaded his luggage into the Trailblazer. We then carried out of the apartment and loaded into the Trailblazer a computer desk I bought at IKEA in 2002, but have not yet assembled. While doing this I noticed the work being done to the marquee of the theater. I also noticed wires were being strung up crossing Broadway. There were a couple of scissor lifts being used and the parking spots on Broadway had the orange cones in place.

I was curious, but I was also in a hurry. Andrew needed to get to JFK to catch an airplane to South Africa, where he is going to school for the next five months. Normally I would have walked over to the workers and asked "what's Letterman doing now?". But the plane was due to leave at 11:30 and I had no idea how much traffic we were facing at the Queens-Midtown Tunnel. This is what distinguishes me as a responsible adult. It is my ability to suppress my need to know everything in order to help someone get to the airport. Sure, I could have put Andrew in a cab and said, hey, have a good trip. But no. That's not the kind of guy I am. I told Andrew's Aunt Sue and Uncle Greg I would take Andrew to the airport and see him off, and that's exactly what was going to happen.

So, Andrew and I went to the airport. We spent about 30 minutes on Second Avenue waiting to get into the Queens-Midtown Tunnel, which is about par for that time of day. Otherwise, the drive was uneventful. We arrived at Terminal 4 with plenty of time to spare. I saw Andrew walk through the security screening. (I assumed it was him. It was a tall, white teenager. From that distance, at my age, they all look the same). I then bought my overpriced banana nut muffin and headed for New Jersey. There I needed to pay Frank, the superintendent of the building where Pumpkin owns an apartment, for some repairs he is doing. I also needed to pick up a couple of bookcases the new tenant didn't want in the apartment.

With the Trailblazer now fully loaded I drove back to Rochester, where I had been most recently at 1:00 PM the previous day.

So, here is the timeline. I leave Rochester with Andrew and his luggage on Tuesday (yesterday) at 1:00 PM. We arrive at the apartment at 7:30 PM. We walk through Times Square and get dinner at Yoshinoya. (I don't recommend Yoshinoya. I go there because it is convenient, cheap for the neighborhood, and the food is reasonably healthy. The downside is that there are often panhandlers working the patrons).

Andrew and I walked back to the apartment, checked our email and that was it for the day.

That brings us to the activity on Broadway at 8:00 AM.

I had the option of staying in the city today and returning to Rochester tomorrow. That would have given me a chance to visit some friends. Unfortunately, I have an appointment with an auditor at the fire department tomorrow, so I returned to Rochester today. If I had stayed in the city today I would have discovered that Paul McCartney was playing on top of the theater's Marquee this afternoon. As it is, I watched the show on TV.

I'm not a huge fan of Paul McCartney. Still, it would have been cool to have seen him performing outside my front door.

When I speak to the auditor tomorrow I will be certain to let him know how happy I am to be there.

Date Night

It is date night, and for our special night of the week I took Pumpkin to see "Transformers" on the IMAX screen. Show time was 7:00. We arrived at 6:45. The show was sold out. Not only that, even the 10:40 show was already sold out.

What?

This is Rochester, not Manhattan. In Manhattan they sell out showings of movies. This doesn't happen in Rochester. Ever.

IMAX is a wonderful thing. It appears in Rochester, it is a rare thing.

So, instead of seeing "Transformers", we saw "The Proposal". In this movie, a couple gets married to avoid deportation. There is no similarity between this plot and Pumpkin's and my relationship. Really. I'm serious.

Date night is important to me. What is ironic is that date night is not any different in Rochester than it is in Manhattan. We have dinner. We go a movie. We get desert. I'm not a creative person.

In Manhattan we usually go to the AMC 25 or the Regal 13. These are across the street from each other on 42nd Street. The most direct way for us to get there is to walk through Times Square. Usually that is hard to do, as there are a lot of tourists on the sidewalks, going to and from the theaters (i.e. Wicked, Jersey Boys, Mama Mia, etc.). Now though, it is different. Instead of not being able to move at a reasonable pace on the sidewalk, we are not able to walk at a reasonable pace in the middle of the street.

Mayor Bloomberg has turned Broadway, from 47th street to 42nd street, into a pedestrian mall. What a great idea. Now, instead of moving on the sidewalks at a pace that would drive any New Yorker completely bonkers, tourists are standing still on the sidewalk, taking pictures of each other, with billboards in the background.

Pumpkin and I walk over to eighth avenue. It is a longer route, and the stationary tourists still annoy me, but it is faster.

The movie itself is always a lot of fun, as New York audiences tend to get into the show. There is a lot of talking back to the screen.

After the movie we go to Stone Cold Creamary, which neither of us need.

A lot of people tell me that they could never live in New York City. It is too crowded. It is too dirty. It is too expensive. Really, it isn't that much different than living anyplace else. Date night is date night where ever you go. The biggest difference is how you get to the movie.