I refuse to call it a walking tour–for one reason, I don’t think that’s even what it called itself. But for another, I can’t stand the idea of walking tours.
Everyone all together in a large group, looking like tourists. Having to go at the group’s pace. Listening to annoying questions.
Okay. By those standards, this was a walking tour.
Do not be misled by this title. The Second Ave Q is NOT the Second Avenue Subway the city has been promising for years. It’s not the one that was advertised to open in 2012 back when I first moved to New York in 2006.
It’s easy to be confused because the MTA is promoting this new half-line as the Second Avenue Subway, despite it only having 3 new stops on 2nd Ave. Don’t be led astray.
It’s only a stand-in for what everyone has been hoping and waiting for. It’s not the real thing.
I mean “get” as in: receive.
I signed up for a 6-week subscription because it was very cheap, and I felt a little guilty for claiming I hated it when the last time I’d tried to read it was during my very first job interview in New York, when they handed it to me to stay occupied in between meeting with different people. Continue reading “#933: Get The New Yorker”
Books, books, books, art, books, books, art, books, books, books, books, books, books, art, art, books, books, books, books, books, art, books, books, books, books, art, books.
This bar is, at its core, a symbol of nostalgia for me.
It represents the time in my life when many of my friends lived in the same neighborhood. It plays the part of an old familiar watering hole that may not have really been that special but seems that way because of its reliability. Because it wasn’t as full of frat boys as the other bars. Because it always has free potato chips.
$20 ticket. 2-drink minimum. Cramped, crowded seating that doesn’t allow you to maneuver your way to the bathroom during the hour and 45 minute set, which is nearly torturous for someone with a tiny bladder who has just come from a bar.
Luckily, the show was good. Continue reading “#915: Comedy Cellar”
Having attended a party/concert/fundraiser at North Brooklyn Boat Club, you would think I’d have some idea of what the organization is or does.
I do have some idea–it’s something to do with boats, and Brooklyn.
But if you would think I’d have a more specific idea than that, you would be forgetting that when I discover a cheap or cool event, I latch on to a couple of details about it (in this case, that it was outside on the last official weekend of summer and walkable from Long Island City) and decide it’s worth attending.
It’s in the Meatpacking District, which is all you need to know if you live in New York. If you don’t, I will tell you a bit more.
It’s in a basement, and it’s trying to be cool as opposed to just being cool. Continue reading “#895: Troy Liquor Bar”
I would never try to squeeze through the doors of the subway when they’re already closing, even though so many people attempt to do this all the time. It’s dangerous, first of all. Do you need to be reminded of the man who died after being dragged by the train whose doors he was caught in?
But second of all, I don’t bother trying because I know I’d never make it through. Continue reading “#882: Get through closing train doors”
It’s no Brooklyn Bridge, but it’s no Queensboro Bridge either.
Like the Brooklyn neighborhood itself, it’s a little underwhelming, and you get the feeling a lot of people are only there because they think they should be and not because it’s something really special. Continue reading “#876:Walk across the Williamsburg Bridge”
If there’s one thing New Yorkers probably regret the most about their time in the city, it’s not taking advantage of all of the cultural opportunities surrounding them.
Who can blame them, with all of the not-so-cultural opportunities surrounding them?
Just when you think you’ve nearly exhausted all of the pay-what-you-wish options in the city, you come across another one. Continue reading “#869: New York Historical Society”
The oldest house in Manhattan has to have ghosts, right?
I mean, if you believe in ghosts. Or even if you don’t, I guess, because I imagine ghosts don’t need you to believe in them to exist. (Or do they? I’ve only seen one season of American Horror Story so am not entirely sure of the protocol.)
It was pouring rain as only a dreary Monday in New York City can. I was struggling to transport a huge cooler with a cake inside, a giant gift bag with presents inside, a duffle bag, and my usual purse from Astoria to Washington Heights. The bus was the most direct route.
The bus and I, we’ve had our disagreements in the past. Continue reading “#853: Make fondant”
I’ve spent 9 Thanksgivings in the city. (One year my family went to Florida.) Yet I’ve never been to the parade, or even ventured to the pre-Thanksgiving event of watching the parade balloons being blown up.
By now, this activity has become like any free thing in NYC: extremely crowded. Luckily, I accidentally–seriously, I wasn’t trying to do this–got into the viewing area near the end instead of at the beginning, so I avoided both waiting in line (if there was one even as early as I went) and having to slowly maneuver my way around babies and cameras and adults who will stand right next to you to take a picture but not bother to actually say excuse me so you could just move out of the way. At least, I avoided having to do this for longer than the 5 minutes I stayed.
Continue reading “#846: Watch the Thanksgiving parade balloons get inflated”
As I was walking to and from this indoor market with food vendors and not enough seating, I passed by a bar with a “beer garden.” (Quotes are necessary when the only thing that distinguishes your beer garden from regular outdoor seating is the words on a sign.)
It was nice weather–exceedingly nice weather for early November–and the beer garden was ridiculously crowded, and absurdly loud. Give people in suits in Midtown a couple of beers and you’ve created an equation for VERY LOUD TALKING.
As I passed by, both times, I couldn’t help looking at all of these people as if they were in a different world. Continue reading “#838: Vanderbilt Market”
Judging solely by my love for rare things, I should adore this brewery, considering finding it close to empty is probably pretty rare, at least based on the crowd there on a Sunday afternoon during perfect fall weather.
And I did like it. Continue reading “#835: Big Alice Brewing”
A New Thing Every Day 