updates

Updated the travel blog. Will update this one too, but I have an exam on Thursday. So, it'll be touch and go with the internet until my math test is over!

Wish me luck.

entry at 2:17am

Sometimes living in New York makes you feel like a great big nobody. Someone without a name, purpose or function.

Pointless.

my travel blog needs some comments, people

Check it:

http://flipworldwide.blogspot.com/

celebrity sightings

Francophiles have Paris. Alien abductees have Los Alamos. Gamblers have Monaco. And gossip hounds? We have New York City.

It's true that LA is the entertainment capitol of the world, but that's just for the film industry. New York is the cultural gem of America, which means we attract more big name movie stars, artists, musicians, authors, dancers and models than almost anywhere else on this little green planet of ours. Fitting, then, that almost everyone in this city has multiple stories to tell of various run-ins with celebrities. A prime example of this was the day when, after less than a full day's work on a brand new job, my former roommate came home and announced she had rung up Drew Barrymore's cash register that afternoon.

As all of my friends have had numerous celebrity sightings, I have been waiting for my first. Well, that's not true. I did have a chat with Joan Baez in an elevator a few years ago (culminating with her patting me on the head), and I've performed for several well known names (Madeline Albright, Kanye West, etc.) -- but still. It wasn't quite the same thing as running into a celebrity on the street.

Which, I can now add, I finally have. About a week ago I was leaving a late night class on my university campus, when who did I spy filming a movie on the street? Miss. Buffy herself, Sarah Michelle Gellar. Granted, it was evening time, drizzling, and the ultra-bright set lights everywhere made it hard to look directly in her face. However, it was definitely her, and the crowd of bystanders gawking at her made this quite evident. The camera crew were giving everyone non-industry related (i.e. me and all the other people staring) nasty looks, but that didn't stop anyone from pulling out camera phones and snapping photos of Gellar like she was some sort of exotic wild beast roaming the streets of Manhattan.

She looked underfed and very short, and her hair was dyed black. Very pretty though, which I suppose is a requirement for all Hollywood actresses. I don't remember much else about my celebrity moment except that she was filming a scene with another actress (no clue who), and had on a pretty hideous boots.

... and I have to cut this entry short because of a duo of unruly cats trying to sit on my laptop.

when power tools attack

I take pride in New York City's subway system. I mean, it is one of the longest and most famous lines in the world. However, when things happen that involve innocent victims and power tools, I'm not so sure how I feel about riding around on the train anymore. I mean, seriously. Earlier this year a dead corpse was found riding around on a train, and now a weirdo trying to hack people in half? Luckily the guy was caught, but here's more detailed information for those who are interested:

http://gothamist.com/2006/07/06/man_attacks_sub.php

summertime

It's summer, and the weather is nice!

the umbrella man

I'm walking in the rain, getting soaked to the skin while chatting on my cell phone. As the rest of New York is huddled under umbrellas, I'm splashing around in puddles of water on the sidewalk. I have no umbrella and my hair is sticking to my face and getting into my mouth. My clothes are sticking to my skin and rain drops keep falling into the speaker of my cell. "This," I inform my friend on the other end of the phone line, "sucks. Royally."

New York has been under a deluge of wet weather, and I'm not enjoying any of it. There's something to be said for the cooling relief of rain during an urban summer, but, then again, there's something to be said for not having to walk around everywhere with rain boots and a jacket on.

There I am, walking along, step after step (with a regular SPLASH! of a puddle), when a plump young man falls into step beside me. He's looking at me curiously, and when I catch his eye he offers up a small smile. The handle to a big black umbrella is clutched in his right hand, and his balding head of hair looks neat and dry. I am, of course, jealous of this fact. (Not his balding head, but the fact he isn't suffering from damp clothing.)

"Want to keep dry?" The man extends his umbrella over my head. He looks harmless enough, and so when he asks where I'm headed to, I don't feel sketched out enough to blow him off. Instead I do the surprising thing of being truthful with a stranger for once. "Honestly," I tell him, "I'm not sure where I'm going." When he looks confused I try to explain again, all the while still attempting to continue the conversation already taking place on my cellie. "I'm lost," I mouth to the umbrella man, "but I think I'm headed in the right direction."

"Well, I'm headed in the same direction too. I'll walk you there," is his quick reply.

And so we trail along at a stately pace. I feel a little silly with an umbrella being held over my head by a man who is carefully trying to match his walking pace with my own. At the same time, however, it feels kind of nice, like being a modern day noble with a dutiful servant at my beck and call.

The man holding the umbrella politely lets me finish my conversation on the phone as we walk. When I tell the person on the other end "I love you," the man at my side cracks up and says "I love you too!" Once I've hung up, he wants to know if I was speaking with a boyfriend. I give an affirmative 'yup' and he puts on a dejected face and sighs, "Oh well, I was hoping it was a parent or family member."

Tough luck.

After double checking some cross streets, I realize I'm heading the right way to my destination. I admit to the umbrella man that the part of Manhattan we're in is strange to me. It's not my style, I tell him. Too many rich ladies in fur coats walking small, pissy dogs.

As promised the man escorts me to the door before heading off with a "Have a great day -- and don't get rained on!"

And that is the very short tale of the umbrella man who kept me dry during a rainy Manhattan week.