Life's Greatest Mysteries

New York City is the greatest city in the world. Sure it may not have the history of some other cities but moving into the present, this city has the most to offer and is the most important city in the world.

I say this as a biased New Yorker who has lived in Manhattan or no more than 40 minutes away my entire life. I've had the opportunity to see many sides of the city and from many angles. Whether it's just walking around my city and playing tourist (a spectator sport which always involves me mocking actual tourists), peering out from a rooftop or high floor apartment marvelling over the sheer size and beauty, or circling the island on my bike (bicycle, not motorcycle), there's nothing better, especially when it's sunny and in the 70s.

So where am I going with this? Among the marvels of NYC are some mysteries and secrets. There are rumors of an underground city accessible through the subway tunnels. And did you know that the Rockefeller family purchased some land across the Hudson River (in New Jersey) to ensure that the views from northern Manhattan will overlook a park rather than anything else so hideous that it could only come from Jersey?

One mystery which I apparently will never solve is what they are doing with the 59th Street Bridge. To avoid the tolls into Manhattan you can ride this span, also known as the Queensboro Bridge, from Long Island City (which is in Queens, not Long Island) to 59th Street on the east side of Manhattan. For years I've been going this way and notice cables, scaffolding and what looks like some tarp to keep debris from falling onto the roadway of the bridge from the upper portion of steel, cables, and whatnot [Editor's note: whatnot is not an actual construction term].

I've driven across this bridge hundreds of times at all hours yet have never seen anyone working on the bridge. In the last few weeks alone, I've been on the bridge early morning, mid-morning, mid- and late afternoon and early evening and late at night on weekdays and early afternoon and late nights on weekends. Many of those hours are off peak and are suitable for construction work. Yet I've never seen a hard hat, traffic cone, flashing yellow lights, spotlights or that annoying dude with the reflective vest and the orange flag.

Anyone want to take a stab at this one for me? What are they doing and when do they anticipate finishing it?

For more on this bridge, check out the Wikipedia entry here. And remember, if it's on Wikipedia, it has to be true!

Oh Canada!

Today's post is a special shout out to our neighbor to the north...good ol' Canadia [misspelling intended]

EDITOR'S NOTE: This post is especially late because now I've been back in New York for about a week and a half.

While I sit around wasting time, looking for a job, and starting a business (or 3), I figured that such a stressful life deserves a vacation. Presidents' weekend is a nice long weekend so I figured that would be a good time to go away. So then I needed to decide where to go. My income is limited so it would have to be cheap and even these days, flights are too pricey. That narrowed the vacation radius to 7 hours of driving.

What better than to spend Presidents' weekend in a country where the weekend has no significance!?!?! Montreal, here we come! So I packed my stuff and planned to visit some friends from college and their kids and other friends up there. The week leading up to the weekend happened to have been incredibly busy so planning was last minute. I packed my skis with the intention of skiing one of those days, but between everyone schedules (the friends I drove to split gas and other friends) skiing wasn't going to happen so I my skis at my friends apartment in the city.

Over the weekend we realized that this was my ninth trip to Canada. The next time I go and get my card punched, I get a free sub, or car wash, or pint of Labatt.

So here are the highs and lows from the weekend (in no order):

• Didn't see any moose
• Good homemade pancakes on Sunday with (probably) authentic maple syrup
• Didn't see any mounties
• It was a little colder than I packed for (even after traveling there twice in the last 4 years, both in the winter)
• Whatshername (there's always a girl involved)
• Making it home in 5 and a half hours even after being stopped at customs for trying to smuggle a Canadian into the states (and no crazy speeding either)
• Playing hockey with my friends oldest kid in the living room (I love hockey)
• Those kids REALLY tire me out
• Drank a lot, but didn't have any Canadian beer
• Not as much snow as I thought
• Getting out of New York
• Not exchanging any money or speaking a word of French
• Waiter at the restaurant Saturday night who was a little too excited to talk politics with an American

On a side note, while waiting for whatshername to pick me up, I found some hockey on TV. The only problem was that the game was televised in French. I know about 7 French words that have nothing to do with hockey. No problem as I watched the game on mute and listened to NHL radio. I'd rather deal with a 5 second delay in the play-by-play than have to listen to the action in French

USA! USA! USA!

Death of the Courtesy Wave and Ode to Mr. Potts

I promised I would explain the title of this blog, so here goes...

For years I've noticed a decline in standards in all aspects of life. Now by no means am I perfect. I am, however, better than everyone else.

Since I have a tendency to ramble on and on, I thought I might some day write a book about life which would serve a as humorous road map (or cautionary tale). This was going to be the title of that book.

So where did this golden phrase come from? Funny you ask! I've been driving for over 10 years now. While I like to consider myself a calm person, these years of driving produced what I like to call selective road rage. I have ZERO tolerance for stupidity. If you decide to move all the way to the right on a single lane street and then come to a stop in the middle of the street with no indication of what you're about to do (not that you have any options other than going straight), I will assume the position behind the wheel (no, not the digitus medius out the window) but my patented "one foot on the break, one hand on the horn" for as long as it takes for you to realize that you're an idiot.

Also, I've noticed that nobody gives the ol' courtesy wave when someone lets them in. It is a dying art that I am doing my part to preserve. I was fortunate to have a good instructor for Drivers Ed (the class to get your license a year early--I mean make you a better driver). The instructor's name was Mr. Potts. He was a tall, older man with thin, wavy hair and rocked the 'stache. He probably was a hippie back in the day. Every week he came to my high school in his 1991 Plymouth Acclaim. He taught us to perfectly parallel park and the k-turn/y-turn/three-point-turn. He made sure we waved when someone let us in on the highway or when we approached a stop sign at an intersection at the same time as the other 3 cars or to the creepy guy in the neighborhood who waved at all the passing cars.

I love driving around Manhattan and having a car around. I've been cut-off my share of times and cut many people off (mostly cabs, but they deserve it). I have yet to receive a courtesy wave, not counting the woman with a stroller who had the right of way and I was patiently waiting to make a right turn.

On a related note, I don't buy into the stereotypes about certain groups as drivers. I am an equal opportunity hater if you drive like Stevie Wonder (because he's blind not cuz he would have an Escalade with 22" chrome rims and thinks he owns the road).

The courtesy wave is neither the cause or effect of society's downfall, rather a symptom. It will serve as my inspiration for many posts to this blog. Just sit back, relax, and enjoy the $8 tub of popcorn.

[In case you were wondering, that driver was so kind to wave me to pass him and go over the double-yellow. I passed him and watch through my mirror as he tried to make a u-turn but fail miserably. He should take a few sessions with Mr. Potts!]

So this is the New Year...

...and I don't feel any different.

I know, it's kinda lame, but every New Years that song pops into my head. Last night it came on my Ipod as I was heading to a New Years party. [Editors note: I do not like iPods or iTunes but got an iPod for free and still want an iPhone]

So anyone who knows me knows that I don't make a big deal about birthdays and really don't care about New Years either. I haven't celebrated my own birthday in a number of years not because I feel old (I'm not THAT guy) but because I just don't care and it's just another day in my life. I will gladly celebrate a friend's birthday and go all out for them. But I have the same approach with New Years. IT'S JUST ANOTHER DAY!

Having said that, what did I do for New Years? I planned to stay in or just go to a small gathering at a friend's apartment. In the end, friends from different parts of the US and Canada (who don't know each other) were converging on NYC (how convenient for me) but all were going to some giant party at the same bar that was rented out. I went to this party last year with different friends and it was pretty bad. However, a little bit of arm twisting later, I plunked down the $60 and went. It was a very different group of people from last year and I actually had a really good time. And took full advantage of the open bar so I felt better about the $60.

Happy 2009!!!