When I tell people that one of my favorite things to do in the city is to play BINGO, I definitely get some strange looks. But this little tid-bit is actual, and there is a New York institution that supports such random activities: Tortilla Flats in the West Village.
Upon landing in NYC, seven years ago, I stumbled into this hodge-podge of a place with my first roommate, Laurie. We ended up there because we were lost, and her friend Courtney bartended at the bar next door. We went in for cheap and dirty Mexican food, and even cheaper and dirtier margaritas. Since that moment I was sold. When I ventured back on one fine Tuesday evening, and I was handed a BINGO card upon entering the establishment, I was in love.
Since that moment, once or twice a year, you will find me and a pile of friends nestled in one of the booths, laughing at something that is not so funny from a sober-perspective, but hilarious to us. There is a pitcher of margaritas present, and a several concentrated faces as B-2, O-69 and I-18 are called.
It never fails, one of us ALWAYS wins and then the fun doubles... or the fun become trouble, depending on how you look at it. A tray of tequila shots finds its way to our table and the hilarity pursues. The fact that we are all 30-something and playing a game our parents do on vacation and we REVEL in it, is just proof that anything goes in the Big Apple... Ah, Manhattan, such a quirky place to play.
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Going Broke for Brokers
There are somethings about New York life I will NEVER get used to. Often, I will joke with friends who live elsewhere about the cost of living in this fantastic city, because like it or not the rent paid to live on this tiny island is astronomical -- typically 3 or 4 times what normal Americans pay and WITHOUT the bells and whistles of parking garages, gated communities, pools, tennis courts, etc. Hell, in this city you are lucky if you have laundry in the building and are rodent free!
Its nuts. And as I contemplate exchanging my suitcase life for something with more substance that isn't constantly on-the-go or sleeping on random couches with my few belongings piled in a corner, its scary to think that I will once again be paying way too much to be living in 400 square feet.
Rent in the city is crazy. BUT when signing a new lease or finding a new apartment, there is something else to be factored in that is almost heart-attack inducing -- brokers fees.
If you don't know, brokers are the 'used car dealers' of Manhattan. Since few people drive, but everyone has to have a space to live, so our fast-talking, wheelers and dealers come in the shape of apartment renters who promise you the moon and then give you a bill for 15% of the first year's rent. Think about it, if you are paying close to $2000 in rent X 12 X .15, you get a VERY scary number, a number that is paid UPFRONT before you even move in or get keys to your new home. Its frightening.
In the end, it all evens out. Brokers fees have a way of being the great equalizer in the Manhattan rental market. You can have two apartments that rent for the same per month, but the bigger and better one will have the crazy fee attached, making it more per month if you factor it into the rent.
Its one of the things about New York I will never get used to... and fortunately if you do it right, you only pay one or two fees in your years in the city. And while living in the city may keep you young and energetic, the times when you get the bill for the broker? Seriously, somebody call a doctor!
Its nuts. And as I contemplate exchanging my suitcase life for something with more substance that isn't constantly on-the-go or sleeping on random couches with my few belongings piled in a corner, its scary to think that I will once again be paying way too much to be living in 400 square feet.
Rent in the city is crazy. BUT when signing a new lease or finding a new apartment, there is something else to be factored in that is almost heart-attack inducing -- brokers fees.
If you don't know, brokers are the 'used car dealers' of Manhattan. Since few people drive, but everyone has to have a space to live, so our fast-talking, wheelers and dealers come in the shape of apartment renters who promise you the moon and then give you a bill for 15% of the first year's rent. Think about it, if you are paying close to $2000 in rent X 12 X .15, you get a VERY scary number, a number that is paid UPFRONT before you even move in or get keys to your new home. Its frightening.
In the end, it all evens out. Brokers fees have a way of being the great equalizer in the Manhattan rental market. You can have two apartments that rent for the same per month, but the bigger and better one will have the crazy fee attached, making it more per month if you factor it into the rent.
Its one of the things about New York I will never get used to... and fortunately if you do it right, you only pay one or two fees in your years in the city. And while living in the city may keep you young and energetic, the times when you get the bill for the broker? Seriously, somebody call a doctor!
Monday, September 7, 2009
In A Class of Our Own
Waiting at CDG for the early flight to JFK, I find myself surrounded by New Yorkers. A group I never thought I would belong to, and yet as much as I may deny it, I do.
Once you see the navy blue American passport its easy to spot us. We are the ones in shades of dark grey and black -- no jeans unless you are a man -- dark wrap, jacket or coat, and for ladies, some sort of wrap. We read newspapers, attend to blackberries, glance at the news, and overall appear nonchalant about the 8 hour flight ahead of us. We are a quiet group, fitting into ourselves, sitting alone with not much hoop-la. Even couples have a peace and quietness about them. We don't stress about travel, take a ton of photos or sit surrounded by duty-free shopping bags. Anything here we can get for less on the other side of the pond.
In the group of 50 or so filling the gate, at least half will be heading straight to the office after the long Labor Day weekend. That's how New Yorkers do it, not at the lake or watching college sports, but popping a flight to Paris for an evening of champagne and steak tartare, visiting a chateau or this is the passing in from Cannes or Marseille after vacationing for the month of August.
New Yorkers long to be European. We like the quality of life, the simple indulgences, the thoughtful afternoons curled up in a cafe... Sure, we work crazy hours on our side of the Atlantic, tune into our blackberries way more than we should, but its all so that we can enjoy this class of life that work provides.
Once you see the navy blue American passport its easy to spot us. We are the ones in shades of dark grey and black -- no jeans unless you are a man -- dark wrap, jacket or coat, and for ladies, some sort of wrap. We read newspapers, attend to blackberries, glance at the news, and overall appear nonchalant about the 8 hour flight ahead of us. We are a quiet group, fitting into ourselves, sitting alone with not much hoop-la. Even couples have a peace and quietness about them. We don't stress about travel, take a ton of photos or sit surrounded by duty-free shopping bags. Anything here we can get for less on the other side of the pond.
In the group of 50 or so filling the gate, at least half will be heading straight to the office after the long Labor Day weekend. That's how New Yorkers do it, not at the lake or watching college sports, but popping a flight to Paris for an evening of champagne and steak tartare, visiting a chateau or this is the passing in from Cannes or Marseille after vacationing for the month of August.
New Yorkers long to be European. We like the quality of life, the simple indulgences, the thoughtful afternoons curled up in a cafe... Sure, we work crazy hours on our side of the Atlantic, tune into our blackberries way more than we should, but its all so that we can enjoy this class of life that work provides.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Meltdown
Every year at this point (mid-August) I get accused of lying. That is because I claim with utmost CERTAINTY that New York in August is hotter than GA in August. And trust me, it is.
There are certain things about New York City that make the heat unbearable on these hot days.
-- In the South, everyone has central AC. You can set such AC to turn on at a certain time so that when you get home your home is cool. In NYC you have AC units which take at least 15 minutes to cool down a room. In the meantime you sweat in silence and hope you don't pass out.
--In the South, everyone drives to work in cars with AC. In NYC people walk to work, take the subway or bus, or something ridiculous like biking or rollerblading. Regardless, when it comes to getting to work in the summertime, you are guaranteed to see NYC ladies walking in flipflops vs. heels, without make-up, and wet hair. They will fix themselves up at the office.
--Speaking of wet hair... In the summer it is impossible to dry ones hair before leaving for work. Why? There is no AC in the bathroom in NYC. If you use your hair dryer you will literally melt.
--In NYC, the only way to transport ones lunch, books for class, clothes for gym, computer for work, etc, is to carry it in a bag. If you have multiple things going on before or after work -- gym, class or lunch -- you end up being a bag lady on the way to work. This means you sweat extra hard. In the south this all ends up in the boot of the car.
--NYC is one giant sheet of pavement. It attracts heat. It also expels heat into the air via buses, subways, sewage system, ACs... By 2PM you can see the heat in the air... swelter, swelter. There is no shade to hide under. Its basically a giant desert of concrete, and we who live here are all camels in search of an oasis...or something like that.
There are certain things about New York City that make the heat unbearable on these hot days.
-- In the South, everyone has central AC. You can set such AC to turn on at a certain time so that when you get home your home is cool. In NYC you have AC units which take at least 15 minutes to cool down a room. In the meantime you sweat in silence and hope you don't pass out.
--In the South, everyone drives to work in cars with AC. In NYC people walk to work, take the subway or bus, or something ridiculous like biking or rollerblading. Regardless, when it comes to getting to work in the summertime, you are guaranteed to see NYC ladies walking in flipflops vs. heels, without make-up, and wet hair. They will fix themselves up at the office.
--Speaking of wet hair... In the summer it is impossible to dry ones hair before leaving for work. Why? There is no AC in the bathroom in NYC. If you use your hair dryer you will literally melt.
--In NYC, the only way to transport ones lunch, books for class, clothes for gym, computer for work, etc, is to carry it in a bag. If you have multiple things going on before or after work -- gym, class or lunch -- you end up being a bag lady on the way to work. This means you sweat extra hard. In the south this all ends up in the boot of the car.
--NYC is one giant sheet of pavement. It attracts heat. It also expels heat into the air via buses, subways, sewage system, ACs... By 2PM you can see the heat in the air... swelter, swelter. There is no shade to hide under. Its basically a giant desert of concrete, and we who live here are all camels in search of an oasis...or something like that.
Friday, July 31, 2009
Where everybody knows your name... and your business.
In my year as a nomad, I have had many different living arrangements.
I started the year co-habitating with my ex, and then moved to a huge, old-fashioned studio with frig from 1956.
From there I spent three months living out of a suitcase in Spain and Italy.
When I returned, I lived in a tiny one-bedroom apartment in a 6-floor walk-up (amazing calves to prove it!).
And now I am onto my best gig yet... almost.
I now live in a doorman building, with an elevator on West 9th street. I am cat-sitting for friends who are away for 6 weeks. Its been interesting adopting their lifestyle.
When I walk into the building everyday, the doorman greets me.
When I return from the gym or running, they ask how my workout was.
When I have a package, they notify me.
Its almost like having a roommate, but still getting to live alone. Its a nice 'try-on' for now.
After two weeks of living this way, I don't know that 'doorman life' is for me.
When I am grumpy or half-awake in the morning, I don't want to be cheerful... or have a chipper 'good morning' to remind me that I am not so chipper...yet.
When I order in, I don't want to have to give a restaurant review in the morning or evening.
When I have friends visit, I don't want comments.
And when I have mail or packages, I want to receive them on my own time, not have someone standing over me to see my reaction.
Having a doorman is very much like having a roommate... and for me, this year is all about living ALONE.
Even in a private building, its hard to find your privacy... no matter how much money you pay.
I started the year co-habitating with my ex, and then moved to a huge, old-fashioned studio with frig from 1956.
From there I spent three months living out of a suitcase in Spain and Italy.
When I returned, I lived in a tiny one-bedroom apartment in a 6-floor walk-up (amazing calves to prove it!).
And now I am onto my best gig yet... almost.
I now live in a doorman building, with an elevator on West 9th street. I am cat-sitting for friends who are away for 6 weeks. Its been interesting adopting their lifestyle.
When I walk into the building everyday, the doorman greets me.
When I return from the gym or running, they ask how my workout was.
When I have a package, they notify me.
Its almost like having a roommate, but still getting to live alone. Its a nice 'try-on' for now.
After two weeks of living this way, I don't know that 'doorman life' is for me.
When I am grumpy or half-awake in the morning, I don't want to be cheerful... or have a chipper 'good morning' to remind me that I am not so chipper...yet.
When I order in, I don't want to have to give a restaurant review in the morning or evening.
When I have friends visit, I don't want comments.
And when I have mail or packages, I want to receive them on my own time, not have someone standing over me to see my reaction.
Having a doorman is very much like having a roommate... and for me, this year is all about living ALONE.
Even in a private building, its hard to find your privacy... no matter how much money you pay.
Help. Its waiting just out your front door!
This morning I was obnoxiously late for work. I got in at 10:30AM. Late. Tardy. Setting a bad example. Yes, I know.
But we had a rooftop party last night at the office that I was incharge of, so I had good reason to come to work late this morning. Although this was not the reason.
I had serious warddrobe issues this morning. A new dress I bought a few weeks ago needed to be adjusted, and I had forgotten about it... plus, I thought I could jimmy it myself. No such luck on the last part.
From bobby pins to safety pins to changing accessories, nothing was going to make this look better. So what did I do?
I grabbed my stuff for work and ran out the door....
...around the corner and into Meurice's, a tailor shop. In five minutes, after disrobing, throwing him my dress through the curtain and saying "fix this!", I was once again headed to work but in a dress that fit.
I may find NYC frustrating, but the ease of getting things done? Priceless.
But we had a rooftop party last night at the office that I was incharge of, so I had good reason to come to work late this morning. Although this was not the reason.
I had serious warddrobe issues this morning. A new dress I bought a few weeks ago needed to be adjusted, and I had forgotten about it... plus, I thought I could jimmy it myself. No such luck on the last part.
From bobby pins to safety pins to changing accessories, nothing was going to make this look better. So what did I do?
I grabbed my stuff for work and ran out the door....
...around the corner and into Meurice's, a tailor shop. In five minutes, after disrobing, throwing him my dress through the curtain and saying "fix this!", I was once again headed to work but in a dress that fit.
I may find NYC frustrating, but the ease of getting things done? Priceless.
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Flakes of Friendship
Having lived in NYC for seven years, I have built a small circle of friends that I trust. They are like my family in some ways, as they are who I turn to in almost every situation. Being from the South, my family here is small as there are not that many Southerners here... at least compared to those raised up north.
My friends from New York have circles, upon circles of friends. That is what happens when you never leave home. Your high school friends, college friends, work friends, etc. all end up in the same place. So you have a ton of friends... but what does that really mean?
Last night I learned exactly what it means. Someone that I have called friend for quite sometime, put me in my place by telling me through both actions and words that she did not value me as a person, and that even though she had hurt my feelings, she would never apologize. She was simply too proud. And too self-centered to see beyond her two feet. And for her, being from New York, she has a ton of other 'mes' to replace 'me' with. She doesn't need me. And she quickly proved I don't need her. She is not my friend. And to erase a multi-year friendship so quickly, I probably wasn't hers either.
I was disappointed at first, saddened a little once I got over my anger, but do I honestly want people like that in my life?
Within 12 hours of this first friendship episode, I was dealing with another NYCer with a severe ego issue. And as the second person proved he was never a friend, nor capable of being one, I realized when it comes to friendships, this place is pretty screwed up.
New York may be huge and monstrous, but when it comes to quality people, good luck finding them in this monstrosity. Magnifying glass, please!
My friends from New York have circles, upon circles of friends. That is what happens when you never leave home. Your high school friends, college friends, work friends, etc. all end up in the same place. So you have a ton of friends... but what does that really mean?
Last night I learned exactly what it means. Someone that I have called friend for quite sometime, put me in my place by telling me through both actions and words that she did not value me as a person, and that even though she had hurt my feelings, she would never apologize. She was simply too proud. And too self-centered to see beyond her two feet. And for her, being from New York, she has a ton of other 'mes' to replace 'me' with. She doesn't need me. And she quickly proved I don't need her. She is not my friend. And to erase a multi-year friendship so quickly, I probably wasn't hers either.
I was disappointed at first, saddened a little once I got over my anger, but do I honestly want people like that in my life?
Within 12 hours of this first friendship episode, I was dealing with another NYCer with a severe ego issue. And as the second person proved he was never a friend, nor capable of being one, I realized when it comes to friendships, this place is pretty screwed up.
New York may be huge and monstrous, but when it comes to quality people, good luck finding them in this monstrosity. Magnifying glass, please!
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