see as i saw

 I am happy to report that my streak remains alive.  While walking home from work tonight, I was sidelined by a directionally-challanged tourist who apparently thought I looked like I knew the answers.  And I did.  Of course, I was also harangued by a woman who was looking for my reaction to the assertion that she could show me the female image of God.

Life in the New York office is such an interesting change of pace.  The conversations are different, the amount of stock in the kitchen is different, the male to female ratio is clearly on the other end of the scale.

Of the many productive things accomplished today, we determined that there needed to be office parlance for a "hard stop" that has a small range.  So, for instance, having to finish a meeting between 4:00 and 4:15.  You really can't go past 4:15, but in an ideal world you'd escape at 4:00.  This shall now be known as a semi-malleable stop.  Pass it on.

This morning as I was grabbing some Cold Brew coffee out of the fridge (a little upgrade from my daily Starbucks Via), I was forewarned that there was a shortage of milk.  Due to the Cold Brew's high concentration, you'd better be immune to caffeine if you're going to drink it straight.  I opened the fridge to reveal four varieties of milk, including one non-dairy.  First world problems at their best.

My commute to the New York office is also a different experience.  Since it's only a mile from my lodging, I hoof it instead of taking the subway.  They say cardiovascular activity is good for you.  It also gives me an opportunity to witness, and occasionally join, a real-life game of frogger at every crosswalk.  No one looks at walk signals, they may as well remove them.

All of that considered, I'm still coming back for you, Chicago.  It's just nice to have an opportunity to shake things up every once in awhile.

Usually taking the 'early riser' flight minimizes the risk of late flights and plane issues.  The planes are patiently sitting and waiting for you to board them.  The flight crew can only be late if they happened to oversleep.  All of the diagnostics, fueling and stocking tasks should be long done.

Of course, I hadn't previously considered that the gate-checked luggage could get stuck in an elevator shaft, thus delaying our flight for 40 minutes while we waited for a mechanic.  At least it worked out well for one lucky individual, the guy who was technically twenty minutes late for the flight.


So after a 3:30am wake up, I managed to spend a full work day at the NYC office; my focus was close to nil by 6:00pm.  I checked into my corporate apartment, which feels so much better than a hotel room.  Although it's a studio, I'm pretty sure it's larger than my own studio in Chicago.  And the view of Midtown Manhattan from my 20th floor windows is a little different than the alleys I look out at from home.

In a city with such an array of choices, you would think that I set out to find myself some sights and flavors that I can't get at home.  Here's a let down for you.  I grabbed a box of Whole Foods' version of shells and cheese, a couple of cookies, and made my way back to the apartment to wear pajamas and watch Big Ten/ACC basketball.

I'll try to be more interesting tomorrow.  Tonight I'm just out of fuel.

It's difficult to believe, as I sit on my own couch for the first time in two weeks, that merely five hours ago I was in New York.  As my time wound down, clearly there was no way that I had seen all of the city.  So, Sunday was devoted to a single priority, the Brooklyn Bridge.  Anything else that I fit in would be bonus...I ended up with a lot of bonuses.

First of all, I started my morning with a battle of the bagels.  Yesterday's H&H Bagel versus today's Brooklyn Bagel.  H&H hands down, in case you happen to be in NYC bagel hunting.  I hopped a C train to Brooklyn, leisurely ate a bagel the size of my head on a quiet park bench (you can find those in Brooklyn, I guess), then strolled across the Brooklyn Bridge.
The city views are great, the structure of the bridge itself is amazing, and starting the walk from Brooklyn was genius.  It wasn't until I was nearly into Manhattan again that the glut of tourists was upon me.  By then, I was already done and moving on.

Then it was time to do what I do best, wander.  This is where the bonuses racked up.  I quickly threaded through lower Manhattan, passing the World Trade Center area (obviously packed with tourists) and the financial district (heavily secured, thanks to Occupy).  A mile up Broadway brought me to Canal Street/Chinatown and enterprising folks trying to entice you to follow them for a selection of "Prada, Louis, Gucci".  Not my scene, moving on.

As it happened, the entirety of Little Italy was a giant street festival.  I inched up five blocks, single file, with cannolis, pizzas, and assorted meats staring me in the face.  Tempting, but overwhelming. It felt like time for some R&R and people watching.  Another mile, through SoHo, brought me to Washington Square.
Somehow I managed to get entrenched in an hour and half conversation with the guy on the bench next to me.  It all began when he, a New Yorker, mistakenly assumed me to be a New Yorker as well.  Assimilation took less than two weeks.  From there, we discussed the obvious: college, sports, jobs, favorite places in the city.  And then things got delightfully pretentious, debating the value and classification of modern art.  You know the merits of Renoir versus Pollock, how people mistakenly find Degas' ballerinas beautiful, the richness of the colors in a Seurat.

Alas, it was time to return to the Holiday Inn and retrieve my bags.  The Windy City was calling.  I'm glad to be here, excited to return to life in the Loop tomorrow.  My morning crossover from Brooklyn and my afternoon in Washington Square created a perfect end cap to my NYC adventure though.  (I swear posts will get shorter again as I return to my standard life.)

As I get older, I find myself becoming more and less risk averse.  No, I didn't mean to say "more or less" and, no, that is not circular logic.  Fears operate on a sliding scale.  The manner in which you commence through life stages and events dictates whether your levels rise or fall.

I've always been independent, but I find that willingness to court risks in this arena is high across the board.  Clearly I'm more than happy to travel outside of my comfort zone, whether it's domestic, international, or merely a new neighborhood in Chicago.  Going alone no longer phases me.  I got in some good test drives while traveling for business, then sort of went straight for the main event with my solo endeavor in Costa Rica.  And heading out for a long period of time, while not always idea, isn't the end of the world.

That's where the line starts to blur.  Permanent relocation to a new land, domestic or international, makes me more squeamish as I get older.  Starting over takes patience and a lot of effort.  As I start to sink comfortably into the people and places that I know, there's less drive to reinvent my life every few years (something I notoriously yearned for in my college days and early/mid-twenties).

Which leads me to another fear, social fear.  The desire to want to meet new people laced with the fear of imposing your slightly awkward/quirky self on them.  I'm still pretty hopeless in a large social setting dominated by people I don't know.  Therefore, moving to a new city solo is a rather daunting task.  With age, I also find friendship to be a trickier path to forge, because you have to navigate the husband/wife/children inclusions.

In a slightly oxymoronic way, I have checked my fear at the door when it comes to one-on-one interaction with someone I've never met.  There are many instances, especially in 2012, where this new level of openness has been fortuitous and/or valuable.  Maybe those events have piggybacked on one another to mitigate my fear.

Some risks seem to feel augmented with maturity and concern for my health or life.  I'm positive that my average speed limit has decreased over the past ten years.  Alcohol intake is generally mild to moderate.  My nighttime awareness on city streets and public transit is very attuned.  Cheap thrills, like skydiving and roller coasters, seem less appealing and more dangerous.

While other risks just seem to become laughable or negligible.  Trying new foods is unlikely to cause any lasting harm or cost me much, either in monetary or non-monetary terms.  Hence, I've taste-tested sushi twice in the past week.  (Verdict is still out.)  Asking questions turns out to be a pretty common activity that most people don't judge you over.  And trial and error seems to be a much quicker way to mount the learning curve.  As it turns out, the errors are rarely life shattering and people don't begrudge you for them.

Instead of going straight to my hotel room after work, I have a tendency to wander.  Today I made my way over to Chelsea Market, which seems to be popular among both the tourist and resident types.  I'm not a huge foodie, but from what I could gather this place is chock full of gourmet and specialty food stands and marketplaces.  I snagged a brownie for a $1.50 and called it a day.

My main interest, per usual, was taking in my surroundings and finding photo ops.  Since the market is housed in a renovated warehouse space, there was definitely a uniquely modern and historic mix of styles.  Ah, yes, contrast.

Many thanks to Yelp for existing and allowing me to find small, hole-in-the-wall joints to buy a NY cheddar grilled cheese and avocado sandwich.  And if my brownie and grilled cheese weren't enough, my hotel bar was offering $4 glasses of pinot noir for happy hour.


So despite being in NYC, where prices can be notoriously high, I managed to piece together a delightful concoction of comfort foods (and drink) for $13.50.  Not too shabby.


Plans are already under way for my Saturday wander.  I'm thinking it will be an Uptown kind of day, since I've really only ever spent time in Midtown or Downtown.

P.S. Despite my NYC love affair, I'm feeling homesick for Chicago.  I miss my friends.  And making my own dinner at home.  And my pillow, I can't wait to get back to my pillow.

 Chicago is going to be upset with me, I'm having a small love affair with New York.  Tonight I meandered into Chelsea with a mission to check out the High Line, a public park constructed atop an old, elevated freight line.

The concept sounded unique, so I thought maybe I'd walk a few blocks, sit for awhile, take a few pictures.  As soon as I alighted from the steps, the ambiance was distinctly different from street level.  I had no doubt that I would be in love, because it possessed my favorite subject: juxtaposition.

It was a green space, a congregation of people moving at a relaxed pace or merely lounging, defined by quiet conversations and solo venturers.  Yet, it's generally no more than five yards from rail to rail, and the city is thrumming along as usual just below.  Manhattan still towers over you to the east and the lights of New Jersey illuminate the west.  Somehow, even surrounded by all of that steel, glass and light, the atmosphere feels idyllic.

And they've somehow managed to provide unique assets to different expanses of the walkway.  There's an area of lawn, various unique lookout points with rows of seating, benches placed within extremely shallow running water.  A stretch of loungers is featured just outside of a pseudo food court, which is housed in a section of building with the walls blown out.  Sometimes your view is dominated by brick walls, then it opens to a street view, and suddenly you're on a narrow path surrounded by plant life.

The variety and contrasts never got old.  Before I knew it, I was at the southernmost point of the park.  Heading back, I was entranced enough to miss my exit point and end up at the far north end.  About 3.5 miles later, I finally arrived back at my hotel.

I know that NYC overflows with restaurants and bars, many of which are well-suited to impress a date.  My perfect man would stake out a spot on the High Line, grab a bottle of pinot noir and a few tasty things to nosh on.  If you happen to know that guy, let me know.

As soon as I realized that I would be in New York City when 9/11 approached, I found myself wondering if there would be any relevant impact.  Unexpectedly, I saw/heard more about the remembrance of this day on my Facebook feed than I did in the city.  Although I'm sure there were crowds around Ground Zero, the rest of the city felt like business as usual.

At first this struck me as odd.  I wondered why the city wasn't more effusive in its remembrance and memorial.  It finally occurred to me that the city's coping mechanism is much like my own.  When emotions become strong enough, it's easier to keep them close and internal while focusing on life as usual.

Despite the number of people involved in and personally touched by the events of that day, I wasn't directly connected to any of them.  I can't pretend to know the extent of the anguish, grief and fear.  But I do keep going back to July 7, 2005, a day where terrorism was a little too close for comfort in my own life.

Although I was relatively sure of my safety, despite my proximity to the London bombings, I didn't initially take into consideration how my family must have felt.  The phones kept ringing.  They had no idea of my daily routines or my current whereabouts.

As I've gotten older, I've had a deepening sense of how suddenly life can change and how unsure we are of the possible events that will occur at any moment.  The best thing we can do is try to continually move toward the place we want to be with the people who are worth everything to us.  Live, love, and appreciate it all.  Move toward the meaningful and cut out the bull.

...you buy overpriced gourmet ice cream from a truck.  The Big Gay Ice Cream truck.  I joined a few ladies from my office for an afternoon jaunt to a warehouse sale, then we stopped to ourselves some Salty Pimps.  Oh, I am definitely in New York.

To be clear, you're missing out if you've never had a Salty Pimp.  Vanilla ice cream, dulce de leche, sea salt, chocolate dipped, in a cone.

After work, I made my way back to Madison Square Park to watch the remainder of the US Open final with a few hundred other fans.  Despite their errant support for Andy Murray, and his ultimate victory, I can't help but revel in being surrounded by truly invested tennis fans.

It also just occurred to me today that two weeks is kind of a long time.  It's 50% of the time that I spent in Costa Rica.  Maybe it's because New York isn't international and I have the ability to see a few people that I know, but it hardly phased me to know I was leaving for two weeks.  And I've also embraced the unknown that this two weeks presents, making me more curious than anxious.

I have to remember to take a few moments and appreciate what I'm packing into this period.  Learning, exploring, taking chances, building bridges, making decisions...growing up, I suppose.

 Yes, I know, I've been a neglectful parent to this blog baby of mine.  Although I had the photo and the content idea all mentally mapped out, the actual execution just didn't come to fruition.  Can I be extended a pardon, though?  Based on extenuating circumstances, such as day three of a new job?


I'd like to see you learn about writing xpath, optimizing for CPCs, and figuring out where the permalink goes in the nano code...then coming "home" to your hotel room to blog.  Yeah, that's right.    And I may have, ahem, had other priorities.  Moving on.  So today is going to be a joint post, melding yesterday's topic with additional thoughts I ruminated on today.


Even though the majority of my hours in New York have been spent working, I'm still enjoying learning the little things about life here.  When I travel, I generally make an effort to put myself in a local's shoes instead of waltzing around from one tourist destination to the next.  If I wasn't living in a hotel, I think that my daily routine here might actually make me feel like a local.

To that end, I've actually been buying several of my dinners from the food bars at Whole Foods (conveniently located two blocks away).  The check-out lines are long during the evening commute hours, but space is limited.  So here's what I learned as I went along.

There are 30 registers, two rows of fifteen facing one another and separated by a single aisle.  There are three lines of customers, each assigned a color.  A monitor at the front of the line coordinates - blue, yellow, green.  When a register opens, the number flashes on the monitor within one of the colored boxes.  Whomever is in that line scuttles over to that register.  For some reason it feels like a game every time I do it.

And maybe it's the just the US Open coloring my opinions, but I'm kind of loving New York.  I never imagined it as a city I would be comfortable living in, but after even three days I'm starting to reconsider.  Today I walked home from work, down 5th Avenue, and walked to the north end of Madison Square Park.  Because in New York, they do things like set up a jumbo screen in the park with a feed of the US Open.  And people actually gather to watch it.  You know what else?  They're seriously engaged, applauding and cheering after points.

I'm not saying that it's time to head out of Chicago, but I'll be happy to spend more time in New York City - both during the remainder of my training period and in the future.

Barely 24 hours of my life passed by in New York City.  When taking into consideration the whirlwind timeline of the trip, the mental tornado of interviewing, and the pace of the city flowing around me - I don't entirely believe that I was even there.  I must have made it up.