Tuesday, September 4, 2012

The Gatorade Bottle and The Missed Train

Since this week is the Fasttrack along the Lexington Avenue line, I have to take a detour on my way home and decided to take either of the Broadway line trains. As I walk down to the 8th Street station I notice a train is approaching which if anyone who rides the N and R trains on a regular basis know catching one late night with nary a wait is truly a blessing. I get on and notice that the train is an N.

So at the next stop, a man gets on and sits down next to an 1/3 full bottle of Gatorade. The bottle was there when I got on the train. He grabs the bottle (which is obviously not his) and proceeds to take a swig from it. This act draws the attention of the person who the Gatorade belongs to. He licks his lips excitedly since I assume the free drink was delicious. The former owner of the Gatorade just shakes his head and goes back to his reading.

The new owner then takes the bottle and plays a nice beat along it's bottom while singing a tune that I couldn't understand. There seems to be something amusing to him as he would laugh and chuckle almost at random. As fast as this show started, he got off the train at 34th Street. End of the adventures? No way.

I get off at 59th Street to catch the 6 train and see I have a 15 minute wait for the next train. The 4 train is due to arrive in 10 minutes. Why is this important? Well here goes.

As the 4 train pulls in and pulls out, I hear someone yell out "Fuck". A man goes through the turnstiles and misses the train. Nothing special there right? Well the dude goes on the kind of major league tantrum that two year old go one. He starts yelling out "Fuck" as if it was on a constantly playing loop and proceeds to kick a garbage can on the platform, to smack his newspaper on the upright beams. He causes a group to scatter from one of the benches as he throws his stuff down and starts shaking another garbage can while yelling "Fuck" into the can for about 10 times before he sits down on the bench resigned to the fact that he'd have to wait for the next train. As I pulled past him on the 6 train, no one would have looked twice at the now calm man reading his tattered newspaper.

Ah, the sights I see on the subway as a nightwalker. Gotta love it.


Monday, September 3, 2012

Some People Shouldn't Drink

On my ride home tonight, there was this stocky little pug of a guy who for no apparent reason that I could see was quite upset. Now to be honest, homie was hammered. How do I know? Well it's my job to know. My assumption was confirmed when after a few minutes of spitting and gagging, the dude threw up all over himself. The smell was that of booze. Plain and simple. If mad man wasn't already upset, this'd is reversal of fortune seemed to piss him off even more.

He started to slam his iPhone down on the seat next to him. He then stood up and started punching the head-butting the glass on the train doors. He was head-butting the glass so hard that he actually broke it. Man if this dude's head didn't hurt already, he's going to feel it later if and when he sobers up. Luckily he got off the stop before me at St. Lawrence Avenue. Hopefully he doesn't find something he's not looking for in his travels.


Thursday, August 23, 2012

What A Commute!!!!

So I leave early in order to take the kids to Momma-San. My first leg goes as smooth as a gravy sandwich. The Bx5 is flawless as I get to Simpson Street. Even my coffee was made to order at the Dunkin Donuts without too much of a hassle. We let a #2 train go by because it's full and catch the next one with more than enough room to sit comfortably. Now, even though I haven't complained much about my commutes as of late, all these steps working in sync is a little too good to be true. It was.

We get to the Jackson Avenue station when the conductor announces that there are extensive delays in Downtown #2 service due to a train stalled at 42nd Street and Times Square. It is now 4:45pm at the cusp of evening rush hour. This is not looking good folks. So the train moves into the next stop which is 149th Street and 3rd Avenue.

At this point the conductor now says there are delays in Downtown East and West side service because some #2 trains are running on the #5 line which does not help me out in the least. Momma-San is on the West side. So off the kids and I go to the street to catch a cab.

If you don't know the area, traffic on 149th Street and 3rd Avenue is usually hectic. It was abysmal today. Fire trucks on one corner. Cop cars on another. I finally catch a cab and tell him that we're going to 72nd Street and Broadway. Remember that intersection. It's important to the story.

So as we navigate through the Bronx in the abysmal traffic I mentioned before, we end up on 161st Street near Yankee Stadium where the corner of the Crown Diner is tapped off, full of cops and crowds of onlookers. That usually means one thing: Shootout. The cab driver put on 1010 Wins and on cue the story pops up.

Apparently a man approached the newspaper vendor on the corner, whipped a gun out, filled him full of bullets. Instead of running, the shooter dropped the gun at the spot, raised his hands in the air and WAITED for the police to arrive so he could be arrested. And this was a few minutes before we drove by the scene. Talk about a WOW moment. But the commute gets better folks.

Remember that intersection I mentioned earlier? Yes, 72nd an Broadway. Apparently my African driver misunderstood my request and even after I reminded him where we were going he took me to 172nd Street and Broadway. LOL.

Luckily today is a nice day and we had a pleasant breeze coming through the windows AND that I am quite relaxed with the drive. When the driver realized his mistake he apologizes profusely for his error. All I can do is laugh. It was an honest mistake. I try to reassure him that it's ok and that we just need to go to 72nd and Broadway.

He jumps down the Henry Hudson parkway and we zip down to 72nd and Broadway. We're in the clear. Right? Nope. The driver has no change. So he jumps out and asks the cab driver next to him for change. He doesn't have any. My driver drops stuff from his pockets which he is now fumbling to pick up as the light on Broadway turns green causing a cacophony of car horns to be heard behind us. Sweet NYC music. He jumps back in. Pulls over and runs to the hot dog vendor on the next corner to get change. I just sit there laughing kid of feeling like the guy sitting in the yellow cab in the beginning to Airplane.

He comes back, opens the door for us gives me my change and again apologizes profusely and hopes that God Blesses me for my patience with his mistake. I guess I maxed out my commuting adventure meter since the rest of my commute was flawless, even getting to work ON TIME. Let's hope the rest of the night stays nice and smooth.


Saturday, August 18, 2012

What Is My Purpose For Working In A Bar

Sometimes I have to wonder if I am placed here in the bar for a reason. Did my path in life lead me here to aid people both strangers and friends. To listen to people's problems and issues. To advise them on what they might possibly need to do with their issues.

I know I always mention that we here in the bar business are "Bar Shrinks", "Bar Counselors" and "Bar Advisors". But sometimes I wonder if there was a divine reason for my being here. And I'm saying this without doing any shots. LOL.

Who knows. I just try to do my best each and everyday. If I help someone's day improve with my ear and words. Then so be it. That'll be enough for me.


Thursday, August 9, 2012

Epilogue To The Boston Trip

I had an awesome though brief time in Boston. One day trips are what I seem to be able to fit into my busy schedule. Boston is a nice small city. But I have to admit to something to you all, there is a reason why NYC is NYC.

Things close early in Boston. By 6pm the gift store in South Station was closed. So any hope of getting something there went bye bye. Now take the example of NYC. I get off the train at 2:10am at Penn Station and at least one of every shop and or eatery was open. You could even get "I love NYC" hats and shirts 3 for $30. That's how you make money folks. There is a reason why this city has the moniker of "The City That Never Sleeps". It doesn't.

There's not much of a feeling like stepping out of Penn Station on 7th Avenue and 31st by Madison Square Garden, getting hit by a wall of humidity while looking north up 7th and seeing the bright lights of Times Square turning night into day.

Yes, Dorothy was right. There is NO place like home.


In Boston Part II

Sharon was right when she told me on FB that the atmosphere around Fenway before the game was a blast. It was. You had kids playing catch with a performer on stilts, brass band musicians, face painters and balloon clowns could all be found entertaining the Red Sox Nation. The two New York teams could stand to learn a lesson here on providing for fun entertainments BEFORE entering the stadium aside from beers at Stan's and the Yankee Tavern.

Now to be honest, the closest that I have ever been inside a stadium like Fenway was Wrigley back in 1999. Fenway evokes a sense of history and intimacy that is lost in the new parks no matter how "retro" they build them. My reaction at walking through the dark tunnel into the bright daylight and seeing that beautiful field of bright green grass and dark brown dirt was akin to what it was the first time I did the same at old Yankee Stadium.

Even with the recent improvements the Red Sox have done with Fenway, there is no denying its place as the grand-daddy of all Baseball Stadiums. Let's compound that with the seats we had.

Harper said the tickets were a gift. Well folks, that was one helluva Birthday gift he got. Sec 30, Box D73 Row 2. ROW 2!!!!!! Right behind third base a few boxes away from the Texas Rangers dugout. Insane. Made even better when the family seated in front of us left and we moved on up to the 1st Row causing a chain reaction of people behind us upgrading their own seats just like the good old days at old Yankee Stadium I've had good seats including 8 rows behind home plate of old Yankee Stadium but those were nothing like these.

The stadium seemed cosy and I know people talk about the obstructed sight lines due to the exposed beams from the old construction (new stadiums have modern methods of construction which provide for clear sight lines). It really is a way that a Baseball game should be watched and enjoyed. Plus the company of Harper, Megan and Dan only made it better. Thanks guys.

The game itself was a high scoring 10-9 affair that was an exciting roller coaster ride won by the Rangers. I guess technically I'm 5-0 for the season. ;) Sorry, had to get that dig in. LOL. I can see why Fenway is an imposing place to play for visiting players. Everything seems like you can reach out and just touch it with your fingertips. Simply amazing. I truly felt like a little kid out there. I told Harper at one point: To get a week to live like those guys on the field. The dream of becoming a professional Baseball player never dies, even here at my fast approaching 40-years old. It's why in my opinion, Baseball is the greatest team game in the world.

After the game we rushed back to the hotel where Harper and co. were staying and cabbed it back with them to South Station. Since I had a reservation for Amtrak at 9:30pm, I decided to head back to Fenway to get some souvenirs. Now here is where NYC separates itself from other cities.

The bars and restaurants were still open with post-game drinkers and diners. But all the team shops were closed. It was barely 7pm and the game wasn't even 2 hours old. So that made getting stuff a little difficult. I don't think that I would have had that problem around Yankee Stadium. Luckily for me I just started to walk in the direction of Boston Commons and remembered that Boylston is a very busy street with many restaurants and shops. Very trendy. Wish I had a street like that in my neighborhood. But I digress. Harking back to my San Francisco trip of last October, I remembered that Walgreens sold tourist items. And why do I see approaching me as I walked but a Walgreens with Boston hats and shirts in the window. The day was saved somewhat. You guys didn't really think I was going to buy Red Sox gear for the momma-san and kids. The got Boston city shirts and other knickknacks.

I finished my Boston excursion with dinner and a few cocktails at Clarke's in South Station. It was a very nice and cosy pub whose food was substantial and prices very reasonable. I highly recommended.

Finally I boarded the train at 9:20pm for the long four and a half hour ride back to the city so nice they named it twice: New York, New York. Off the train rocked to a Jazzy, Mambo and R&B playlist courtesy of my iPod.

Until next time Boston. You were wicked fun. Peace.


- Click Here for my brief Epilogue bringing my Boston trip adventure to a close

Wednesday, August 8, 2012

In Boston Part I

We arrive pretty much on time to Boston South Station and decide that since its been 12 years since the last time I was in Beantown I need to find my bearings. Keep in mind that I didn't bring a map or guide book with me. For one, I have no Idea where my old one is. Secondly, even if I had found it, it would probably be outdated.

The last time I was in Boston, the city was in chaos due to the construction projected dubbed the "Big Dig". I am happy to say that things in Boston these days are much less chaotic. . With that in mind I call Harper and decide to meet him and the crew by Fenway Park. Off I go to re-experience the "T". You would think that I am a veteran of the New York City subway system that I would be able to navigate easily in Boston's public transit system.

I asked one of the transit workers for the best way to transfer to the Green line which leaves you at Kenmore Station right by Fenway Park. He sounds like he tells me to take the Red line and transfer at Pahk Street for the Green Line. It took me a couple of seconds to realize where I was and that he had said Park Street. LOL. Ah, those Bahston accents,

So I get off at Kenmore and the area looks familiar from the last time I was in Boston. I end up meeting Harper and the crew at the Cask and Flagon. That bar was pretty awesome. TVs all over. It was packed to the brim with members of the Red Sox nation. Luckily for me I went up there incognito. No Yankee colors for me. LOL.
After a quick drink, off we went into to Fenway Park. Now I'll save my impressions of Fenway for my next post. But I will say this for our seats: WOW!!!!!!


- Click Here for Part IV of my Boston trip adventure

On The Way to Boston Part II

After a short two hour nap, a shower and a cup of coffee off walking I went on the road to Boston. Since I had a 6:55am train to catch I had more than enough time to make it to Penn Station. Or so I thought.

By the time I got to Parkchester (after a stop at Dunkin Donuts) it was almost 5:30am. I got to Grand Central Station it was about 6:10am. So instead of waiting for the local I decided to hoof it from GCT to Penn Station. Lucky for me the drinks that I had earlier in the evening no longer hampered my senses so I was quite able to walk at a brisk power walk pace. Walking the 1.55 miles in roughly 20 minutes got me at NY Penn Station by 6:35am. Consider that I had already walked 1.59 miles in my neighborhood. I'm glad all this walking I'm doing is working out. =D

Here is where I get a little ticked off folks. Getting on the train is a snap. Amtrak has really improved their trains. Now there are outlets by all the seats and they advertise that there is free Wi-Fi. Awesome right? Well, there's a catch. You can go online for free but there are limitations. Don't you hate that? So here are the limits:

- No offensive sites. Ok, I get that. Nothing worse than sitting next to a Grandma and she's watching porn. LOL. Not that there's wrong with that. Rock out Grandma. But I can see how that can be an issue.

- Blocking streaming video sites. Ok, it's a four hour train ride. Let me watch some Netflix or HBOGO. I understand that they want to save bandwidth for everyone. So have a separate pay one so we can access streaming services. Guess I'll just have to read and listen to my iPod. How mundane and pedestrian. LOL.

Enough of my bitching. Nearing Stamford while listening to some Louie and Ella. Check in later. Peace.


- Click Here for Part III of my Boston trip adventure

On The Way To Boston Part I

Well here I am on the cusp of the beginning of my Boston adventure. I am meeting the Harpers: Megan and Michael for a Red Sox v Rangers game at Fenway Park at 1:30pm. It's 1:57am. Less than 12 hours away. I should be arriving at South Station in Downtown Boston at 11:00am. Leave it to me to NOT make ANY trip easy. LOL. Refer back to my San Francisco and Portland trips for a little background reference.

Actually, chalk it up to four loads of laundry with my kids, numerous post laundry cocktails, a little fun with Momma-San ;) and an impromptu movie night with Bruce Willis, Samuel Jackson in Die Hard With a Vengeance and the aforementioned Momma-San.

Let's see how I feel in two hours plus when I wake up to leave for my trip. Stay tuned true believers.


Click Here to read part II of my Boston trip adventures

Tuesday, July 31, 2012

Dance With My Father by Luther Vandross

It really is amazing how certain songs can affect us in a variety of ways. One song that deeply affects me is Dance With My Father sung by Luther Vandross and written by Vandross and Richard Marx. Now if you aren't familiar with the song, Vandross sings about his late father and the effect his father had on both him and his mother remembering one such memory of how his father used to dance with his mother. Writing about it now is giving me goosebumps, Why? I'm really not sure why. But I do have a few ideas as to why this song affects me so much.

The song came out in June of 2003, so perhaps I was still feeling that new dad sensation. My son had been born in June of 2002 and Gaby was still 6 months from being born. Maybe it had to do with the fact that it was one of Luther Vandross' last songs before he passed away in 2005. This is probably the actual reason why.

This kind of goes in hand-in-hand with my Father's Day rant. Fathers get the shitty end of the stick when it comes to holidays like Fathers Day compared to Mothers Day and understandably so. There are so many dead-beat Dads out there that screw things up for us dads who take care of our business with our kids on a daily basis that its hard to us to get the same kind of "love" that the moms do on their special day. Especially in the media with commercials. Why can't dad get some bling on Fathers Day like moms get on Mothers Day. But those of you who have heard that rant know how I feel about it so enough about that. LOL. Back to the song.

Even in music, you rarely hear someone singing positively about their dad. Poppa Was a Rolling Stone is a classic but let's be honest Poppa was not a Father of the Year candidate. But there is something in the way Luther sings about his father and how he wishes his mother and him could get one more dance with him that really tugs on the heartstrings. And its not that I relate it to my father. I still have my dad with me.

So I think that I hope that I can do an adequate job with my kids that they will remember me and hold me in such high regard in the same way that Luther Vandross held his father.

Do you all see where I'm coming from with this? It really is a beautiful song. Here are the lyrics:

Dance With My Father
Back when I was a child
Before life removed all the innocence
My father would lift me high
And dance with my mother and me
And then
Spin me around 'till I fell asleep
Then up the stairs he would carry me
And I knew for sure
I was loved

If I could get another chance
Another walk
Another dance with him
I'd play a song that would never ever end
How I'd love love love
To dance with my father again

When I and my mother
Would disagree
To get my way I would run
From her to him
He'd make me laugh just to comfort me
yeah yeah
Then finally make me do
Just what my mama said
Later that night when I was asleep
He left a dollar under my sheet
Never dreamed that he
Would be gone from me

If I could steal one final glance
When final step
One final dance with him
I'd play a song that would never ever end
Cause I'd love love love to
Dance with my father again

Sometimes I'd listen outside her door
And I'd hear how mama would cry for him
I'd pray for her even more than me
I'd pray for her even more than me

I know I'm praying for much to much
But could you send her
The only man she loved
I know you don't do it usually
But Dear Lord
She's dying to dance with my father again

Every night I fall asleep
And this is all I ever dream

This is why we dads out there need to do right by our kids. So that we can be remembered for what we did as opposed to what he haven't done like that poor old rolling stone Poppa. I have tears welling up as I type this out. Man have I become a sap in my later years. LOL.


Mr. Magoo in Drag

I just saw at 5:45am what looked like Mr. Magoo dressed in drag with a bad wig in a short skirt with fishnets and a tight top with big boobs and erect nipples near the train station at Parkchester.

What the fuck was that!!! As I'm crossing the street the fucker is right behind me and walks by me at such a fast clip that I couldn't get a picture. Ugh!!!!

And now I need to go to sleep after seeing that? Que jodienda.


Wednesday, July 25, 2012

Its Been A While For An E-Mail Scam

For those of you who have read my blog in the past, I get a kick out of the e-mail scams. I don't know exactly why. But it just seems amusing to me that people come up with these elaborate stories to bilk people of their money and that people would be so gullible as to be bilked of their money by these stories. So on that note, here is a very heart-string plucking message from Mrs. Elizabeth Wilson from Israel. I love that she refers to me as "My Dearest":

Hello My Dearest,

I know how surprise this email might appear to you but i want you to consider it as a request for an assistance from a dying woman. My Name is Mrs. Elizabeth Wilson. from Israel but now undergoing medical treatment in Abidjan the capital city of Ivory Coast.

I am married to late Mr Benson Wilson, who worked with Israeli Embassy in Ivory Coast for Eleven years before he died in the year 2008, after a brief illness that lasted for only Ten days.

We were married for Eighteen years without any child. After the death of my husband i vowed to use our wealth for the down trodden and the less privileged in our society.

Recently, My Doctor told me that I may not last for the next seven months due to cancer problem, though what disturbs me most is my stroke and deaf problem.

Haven known my condition i decided to Serve God with our wealth. When my late husband was alive we kept the sum of ($7.6 Million U.S. Dollars) Seven million six hundred thousand united states dollars Having known my condition I decided to Give out this fund to a church or an individual or better still a God fearing person who will utilise this fund the way I am going to instruct here in.

I want an individual that will use this fund to provide succour to the poor and indigent persons, orphanages, widows around him or her and Schools etc. As soon as I receive your response I shall give you the contact of the Bank where the said fund is deposited I will also issue you the documents that will prove you the present beneficiary of this fund.

Any delay in your reply will give me room in searching for an individual or this same purpose, always be prayerful all through your life.

Please assure me that you will act accordingly as I Stated herein. Hope to receive your reply soon.please reply me through this email eliza_jj03@yahoo.co.jp

Thanks and Remain Blessed.
Mrs.Elizabeth Wilson.
Alrigty then. $7.6-million smackeroos all for me to be the beneficiary and to distribute it to the poor. Ay-yay-yay. As PT Barnum so eloquently stated: There's a Sucker Born Every Minute. Amazing.


Sunday, July 22, 2012

So This Dude Sicced God On Me...

I had this drunk dude stumble to the door and ask to use the bathroom. As per custom he was in no condition to come into a full bar and I said no. After a few tries the dude got mad and said that God sees what I do. That my actions would be remembered by god and that he MIGHT help me if I ever need help. Then he stumbled off to pee in the middle of the street. Guess he doesn't care if he's seen.


Saturday, July 21, 2012

To What Lengths Do Some Of Us Go To Give Our Digits Out

Now any of us who work in a bar see first hand how the power of liquid courage can work. Upon entering the bar a man can go from mild mannered and respectful to an unshackled beast a-la Jekyll and Hyde. Maybe he was a beast to begin with and the booze makes him mutate further. So here goes the story.

I'm on the #4 train headed Uptown to 125th Street after a long night at work.. Now those of you who have read my prior posts know that I primarily take the 6 train affectionally referred by me as The Iron Horse #6. But since there split service construction on the #6 line I'm forced to re-route somewhat. Back to the story at hand.

This drunk dude gets on either at Astor Place or 14th Street. I'm not sure. All I know is that he is super drunk. How can I tell? Really now folks, I'm a professional. I know a drunk when I see one. Plus the plop down into the seat in front of me was a dead give away. Casanova (and you'll know soon enough why I call him that) focuses his bleary eyed gaze on this young lady sitting down the seat to my right. She was a damn good looking woman. Can't blame Casanova for noticing her. But he was intently staring at her. It was actually quite uncomfortable. It was like watching a lion stalk his prey with a drunken gait.

So he reaches into his pocket and takes out a red pen and a small marble notebook. He scribbles something into it, tears the page out and drunkenly stands up as the train is moving along towards 33rd Street. He extends the ripped out page to the young lady. I can only assume that it was his name and number. She shook her head twice trying to reject the overture. Finally she took the paper and as she got up from her seat she dropped it underneath her. As the train stopped at 42nd Street, she got off and I saw that she got back on the train in the next car, trying to avoid Casanova. But my man as the hunter refused to be dissuaded.

He got back up and went into the next car through the emergency doors, he then proceeded to come back in to the car I was in and plopped down next to me. Again he took out the aforementioned red pen and small marble notebook. He scribbled down what looked like a name and a jumble of numbers. My man was determined to give this woman his digits. He was truly a persistent fellow.

Again he lurched up to his feet went into the next car and never came back in. Nosy fucker that I am decided to see if I could catch up with Casanova. As I got off at 125th Street, I saw him plop down next to the same woman who he was trying to pawn his number off on. If a picture was worth a thousand words, her face was worth ten times as much. To her credit, she timed her exit from the train to coincide with the doors closing, leaving her paramour on the now Bronx bound #4 train.

To add insult to injury, she got on the same train car that I was now on. Upon sitting down some other guy immediately started hitting on her. I did say she was good looking. She stormed off the train. Where she ended up only she knows.

Hopefully her odyssey of drunken and aggressive paramours came to an end.


Tuesday, July 17, 2012

The Woman on the 6 Train

So there's this woman on the 6 train giving us quite the show. Wow. Its amazing to watch her in action. If I was someone else, I'd video her. But in doing so I would feel bad that I'd be invading her privacy. She doesn't seem drunk or high for that matter. She's clean, well dressed, adorned with jewelry like bracelets and anklets. She has a nice big purple purse (which Momma-San would be really impressed with). I really don't know. To the naked eye she seems mentally ill or possessed.

In addition to the invasion of privacy, I'm also afraid that if I do video her I'm afraid of the stuff that might appear in the video. Like in the horror movies where an aura is often seen emanating from someone who is possessed. Let me give you a quick synopsis of her behavior:

She sits just cackling and speaking gibberish with her right hand raised. Then she starts arguing with the someone or something that she seems to see and gets up and starts shaking and convulsing while squealing and laughing as she does it. Then she walks around shaking her head until she sits down and puts her sweater on and fixes her dreads. She gets up and does it again this time stopping at one of the ads on the train and whispers sweet nothings to the image on the ad while taking her sweater off. Then she sits down and does a little dance and jiggle. After that she stops to arrange her top flopping her breasts around taking them out as she fixes her top to make them fit. Like I said earlier. Quite the show folks.

I'll be honest with you. I'm not sure what is more unnerving. Could it be the woman's convulsions, contortions, gyrations, speaking in gibberish, her high pitch squeals and laughs or the people on the train that don't even bat an eyelash at her behavior and sit there like nothing is going on. One dude actually sleeping right across from her with no headphones on. That's a mighty strong sleep he has going to not have her disturb him.

Most people from other cities would be going from one car to the next getting the hell out of dodge. Shit, at 59th Street she scared the living daylights out of a group of tourists causing them to scatter like a gaggle of geese with one of her banshee-like shrieks. But no, us New Yorkers just sit there and stare through her and everyone else as we sit in our private little clear cubes of personal space.

We New Yorkers are a fucked up breed of urban dwellers. I think the worst are the ones observing her and posting what they see to FB and their blogs. Remind you of someone? LOL.

Its like I say on the regular: As much as people try to make NYC as shiny as a brand spanking new penny, the old NYC rears its ugly head just to let us know that it exists and is never too far. Ya gotta love my old NYC.


Sunday, July 15, 2012

Yo This Place Sucks

So this group comes in and as usual they leave the person with the fake ID for last. I guess they figure that I wouldn't dare sacrifice a group of customers for one person with a fake. Wrong!

So the young buck has a fake Illinois ID and tells his friends that he can't get in and his friend says out loud:

"Yo, this place sucks"

Normally I'd just let it slide and be done with it but since it was a little slow tonight, I decided what the hell.

I tell the guy who made the comment the following:

Just stop bro. This place doesn't suck. If it sucked you wouldn't have tried enter in the first place. Had I let your friend in you'd be doing shots and having a couple of beers right now.

It's like when you're kicking it to a fine girl and she's hot until she tells you she's not interested then you insult you. You're too young to be so sour."

To which the dude nods at me in agreement and quietly walks away with his friends.

It's really not that serious folks. Truly it's not.


Thursday, July 5, 2012

Who's The Boss

Yesterday I worked the rare day shift at the bar. Since it was the 4th of July I figured that I was in for a slow day. Instead I got a lively shift full of a variety of rotating tourists and one asshole. Why an asshole? Read on.

These two guys come in and order two of the personal pitchers of Bass. About a half hour later, one of the guys. Alls me over and complains that his beer was warm. Now mind you, he's doing this AFTER the beers were finished. Now I know I've been bartending for a little more than a year but I've worked in a bar since 1995. No way am I falling for that. Here's how it played out:

Him: Hey, our beer was warm.

Me: No it wasn't. If it was warm you would have complained about it when you first tasted it.

It was warm when we finished it.

When you order a beer that big and take a half hour to finish it (after I looked and pointed at the clock) it's going to end up warm.

I thought the person who paid was the boss.

Ok, this is where I get irked. It's this mentality as with "The Customer Is Always Right" mentality that people have that pisses me off. It's just not true.

That's not true. Want to know why?


Because at home I always pay and I'm not the boss

To that I just smile at him and he just sits there quietly. Guess I struck a nerve on Mr. Who Pays is the Boss

You want two more beers?

He puts up two fingers with nothing else said. What else could he say. Jackass.


Thursday, June 28, 2012

You Could Have Fit

What is the recording that the MTA has on their Public Service announcements: Courtesy is contagious and it starts with you. So what happens when you are courteous and are criticized for it. Here goes.

I was on line at Duane Reade and there was an older woman with a cane at the register. She finished and walked down the aisle way that I had to walk down to get to register. Since she was walking with her cane, I let her go by before walking to the register. As she walks by me, I hear here say under her breath: You could have fit. I stop at the register and look back at her where she loudly repeats her last statement in a defiant manner. To say that I was surprised would be an understatement. I was downright shocked. And to top it off, she had attitude towards me. Upset that I didn't walk past her. Maybe she thought I found her too fat to walk by her? Maybe I could have fit but that's not the point. I was just trying to be courteous.

I just shook my head and told her: I'm sure I could have fit but I was just letting you pass. I'm in no rush. There was no offense intended. She just turned and walked towards the door.

How do you like them apples. If I don't wait and walk by her I'd be rude if I made any contact. If I wait for her to pass I'm rude since I'm inferring by my non action that her and I could not fit down the aisle way. Que cojones.

Sometimes all you can do is shake your head and walk away.


Saturday, June 23, 2012

Things To Wonder

If you sit down and think about it, the way life on this planet works is really is interesting. How so? Look at how people intersect with each other as they travel on their individual paths. You'll meet someone, make acquaintances, friends, confidants, collaborators and/or lovers of them and in a blink of an eye you or them move on and not see them again. It could be a week, a month, a year, 20 years or never again. Ever wonder about them? What triggers it? And how is it that at the most inopportune or inexplicable time you cross paths with them again. Is it fate? Random happenstance? Dumb luck? What do you gals and guys think.


Wednesday, June 20, 2012

Hacked or Not Hacked

I receive an email from Momma-San's work email entitled "whenever you feel like it" The title seemed suspicious to me but I opened it just in case. Inside the text read as so (in lover case letters ):

Here's an item I would live.
So whenever you feel like getting me a gift for no particular reason at all...
on Amazon.con its an Algerian Two Tone Love Knot by Emitions..two tone and its $75.00

At second glance my feelings about the title seem confirmed. Not knowing what the hell an Algerian Two Tone Love Knot is aside from it being some sex toy/accessory, it seemed to me that Momma-San's email got hacked! I text her to let her know. Here is how the conversation went down:

Me: You sent me an email from your work account for an Algerian Two Tone Love Knot? Either you did or you were hacked. Change your password.

Momma-San: Yes

You emailed me that? I was afraid to open it. Still am


You getting pointers from those Grey books?


Ok, so now I feel stupid since I assumed it was something that Momma-San had read in those fifty Shades of Grey Books. So I decide to look it up. Here is what they are:

Algerian Two Tone Love Knot...Earrings

D'oh!!!!! I tell you folks, sometimes for as smart as I am. I can be rather stupid. Here I thought Momma-San was getting freaky freaky on me. ;)


Sunday, June 10, 2012

I Just Went Out For Air

Drunk dude leaves the bar and stumbles down the block and pukes twice. Of course, yours truly takes the two coffee pots full of hot water to rinse away the mess.

A few minutes two of his friends show up asking if we've seen a guy who couldn't explain where he was in a text. We describe him and they confirm he is the person we mentioned to them. As almost on cue, home stumbles up to the bar. He embraces his friends and starts to come into the bar. Both Chuck and I are at the door and tell him he's done.

He asks us why he can't come in since he just left. We tell him that he can't come in since he's already drunk and stumbled down the block. Here is the rest of the exchange.

Him: But I just went out for some air.
Me: Yeah, and you left two parts of you on the sidewalk when you puked. Have a good night

As if we needed any more of a verification of his inebriation, the dude took a step back and feel backwards in between the planter and iron wrought fence (that surrounds the tree) that is in front of the bar.

As Killer Ray would have said if he was standing here: "Down Goes Frazier"

All you can do is laugh.


Saturday, June 9, 2012

Walking Barefoot in NYC

It amazes me how many women choose to walk barefoot on NYC sidewalks after a night of wearing heels. I see it happen with more frequency after 2am. What I find astonishing is that many of those women get mad when someone tells them that they should be wearing their shoes. In front of the bar alone you have people who smoke and spit. People walk dogs who urinate and poop on the sidewalk, not to mention God knows what other bodily fluids and liquids might be on the sidewalk. It is one of the least sanitary places to put bare skin on. Ladies, carry flats if your heels become too much to bear. Last thing you want to do us catch something on your bare feet because you chose to walk barefoot in NYC.


Monday, June 4, 2012

Shit Guys Resort To In Order To Hook Up With A Chick

So these two jabronies were sitting at the bar comparing their proven techniques on how to pick up women. I tried to ignore their inane comments until the Latino of the two guys asks his friend if he ever owned puppies. The second dude answered in the affirmative. The Latin lover then asked if he ever had to put any of them to sleep. #2 answered yes in a low somewhat sad voice. Now keep in mind for those of you who don't those know me, I put my dog Buddy to sleep less that four months ago. Not surprisingly that last statement caught my attention.

Latino lover says, tell a chick that you had a dog who once had puppies and you had to put it to sleep, give her a sad face and she'll fall all over you. Both dudes just laughed. Again, not surprisingly I didn't find it amusing in the least.

I tell the duo that they are just wrong by using that excuse to pick up women and if that's the best they can come up with they need more help than they think they do. Latino lover asks me what should they do instead of the puppies line and I respond: Just be yourselves. I mean seriously guys with 6-Billion people on this planet SOMEONE will find your personality attractive

Unfortunately, my whole sarcastic line flew over their heads. Never on my worse day did I have to rely on such cheap shenanigans to hook up with a woman. I wasn't upset at them, just sad that someone would stoop to that level to catch a rap.

Like my dad would say: Pobre America. Poor America indeed.

Sunday, June 3, 2012

Sometimes I Wish

Sometimes I wish that men would talk to me in the manner that they choose to berate their female companions. Why? Here's why.

I wouldn't let this guy into the bar due to his visible intoxication. Apparently his girlfriend was inside with some other friends but chose to not leave immediately. I guess she decided to stay since it was his fault that he was drunk. Fair enough, no? When the group finally decided to leave, he got in her face and insulted her with suck obscenities as "Fuck you, you're a bitch an you're a cunt" among others insults.

The funny thing was that with me he was nothing but sheepish, asking me quietly if I could let him in after I didn't let him in. If he was mad, be mad at me since I'm the one who wouldn't let him in. But no, instead this dude of about 6 feet and 2 inches in height chose to take his frustrations out on his lady who was no taller than 5 foot 3 inches. She just took it, refusing to go down to his level. Choosing to walk away than to get into a public incident with this guy.

That must have made him feel like a big tough guy. What a fucking pussy.


Tuesday, May 29, 2012

Riding The Early Morning Silver Bullet

I notice that homie who is is riding the Bx27 bus directly across from me is chugging a tall can of The Silver Bullet: Coors Light. At 5:48am.

Granted, he probably just got out of work like I did, but damn bro. You gotta drink it on the bus without a paper bag? Without trying to conceal it from the bus driver? LOL. Even the bus driver laughed and shook his head when he noticed. That my friends is the proper punctuation mark to the end of the work week. Peace.


People Sure Have A Set of Balls on Them

This couple comes into the bar and proceed to go use the bathroom. As they come back to the front, they stop and watch the Yankees game. I wait a few minutes before asking them if they would like something and the woman comes and asks me for a water. I let her know that if they are going watch the game they need to order something to drink aside from water the woman walks off upset saying All I want is water".

I wait a few more minutes and again ask them if they want something and they say "No". I tell them:

If you're not going to order a drink then you need to leave. You can watch the game from outside through the window. The woman of the couple proceeds to leave in a huff as if I did something wrong by telling them to buy something or leave.

I mean really. Who thinks that its fine to go to a bar and just stand inside the bar, use the facilities and watch the game without buying something. Get the fuck outta here.


Monday, May 28, 2012

Happy Memorial Day 2012

Before I relay today's tidbit, I just want to send a heartfelt thanks to all the servicemen and servicewomen who risk their lives and have given the ultimate sacrifice so we can enjoy these freedoms that many of us take for granted. Now on to the Memorial Day story.

We had this young Marine in the bar last night who is being deployed to Afghanistan this upcoming July. So as you can imagine he was hanging out with friends and really trying to tear one on. He was sucking down his drinks as if they were just water. At one point he kept trying to order a drink and I told him that I think he should have a glass of water instead. At the same time his friends came up to the bar and told me that he was done and should have water. We were on the same wavelength. This just pissed the kid off who proceeded to say under his breath "I'm giving up my freedom for these motherfuckers and I can't get a drink". Shit like this pisses me off because I comped him a couple of drinks because he was being deployed. In appreciation of what he was about to do.

I got his attention and spoke to him sternly:

As much as I appreciate you giving up your freedom for this motherfucker right here (pointing to myself), continuing to serve you when you've had enough would make me negligent and irresponsible. Just as you have orders and rules to follow in the service, I have orders and rules that I need to follow here behind the bar. It's not personal. You've just had enough to drink.

I could just sit back and keep pouring and making money off of them. But if something were to happen to him on his way home or to the ship we are liable. We're the ones held responsible because we, and myself specifically, did not "cut him off". Professionally we have a responsibility to our clientele who might resemble adults in age but not in behavior. Bartenders need to be smart and know "when to say when" when a customer doesn't.

Not only that, morally I have a responsibility. That's someone's son there. I would hate that to be one of my kids getting shit drunk and having something happen to them when someone could have cut them off. Sure you can only do so much", people are individuals and will do whatever they want whether or not it is harmful. The "so much" you can do can go a long way. To do NOTHINGwhen you pour the drinks is irresponsible.

In the end, his friends paid for the tab and off they went bringing a close to another Fleet Week in New York City.


Saturday, May 5, 2012

Douchebag de Mayo

Says its sad when at 7:45 in the evening a young woman gets on the train piss drunk and due to her inebriation almost cracks her head on the seat to her right when she passes out due to her activities during Douchebag de Mayo. How do I know she was drunk? Well, I have worked in a bar for I've 15 years so I have some experience in the matter but in a more obvious manner, she smelled like a broken bottle of Jose Cuervo Gold tequila and stale line juice. Sad Indeed, Happy Cinco/Douchebag de Mayo.

Tuesday, May 1, 2012

The Line of the Night May 1, 2012

Says this was the line of the night. Someone asked me for the following at the bar: "Do you have a nail clipper? My toenails are getting too long. I need to it them"

Now part of me wished I had a pair of clippers handy so that I could A) see of he would clip them at the bar and B) see if he would try to return them to me when he was done using them on his toenails.

Alas, we will never know.


Sunday, April 29, 2012

The Smell Was Intoxicating

The smell was intoxicating. Seven caramel colored Latina ladies entered the train on 14th Street. One more prettier than the next. Their perfume interminging with each others becoming one sweet scent. Different heights, different color hair of varied lengths and styles. Blue jeans, tights, slacks, white pants, leather jackets, trenchcoats, half length, full length, heels, boots, and flats. All seven had one thing in common. Femininity. Pure and sexual. On the prowl on this Sunday evening. The boys out need to watch out. Names will be taken, Notches cut out of their belts and hearts will be broken. Good times had by all. Well, maybe for some.


Saturday, April 28, 2012

Can I Bribe You?

It really is amazing how certain people feel that they can try to bribe you with money to break the rules that will get me and my co-workers fined and fired. Night in and night out someone comes along with a fake ID and tries their hardest to get one over on the door staff. I wonder how they would feel if i did the same thing to them where they work. Would they be so willing to put their job at risk for me? I don't think so. And then people wonder why I don't trust many people.


Wednesday, April 25, 2012

Trying to Hook Up While on the Bus

After my excursion to the Bronx Zoo, I catch the Bx39 to go home. The bus was unusually full and after making my way to the back, I walk into the motions of a modern day Don Juan trying to hook up with a young lady. Here is how it went.

The dude started yapping away that he could guess her age. Bad enough he tried that tact, which by the way never leads to anything positive, he was way off on her age. About 10 years too many. He said she was 30 when she was actually 20. Figuring the young lady would like an older man, he told her he was 32. He actually looked closer to 40. I can say that since I check ID's and I have a better sense of guessing ages. But I digress. She told him that she wasn't interested in dating an older guy and he continue to persist dropping the line "Age doesn't matter" and "It's only a number". Each time she heard a line, she'd roll her eyes in my direction. I just tried my hardest not to laugh. He was oblivious at the fact that she was not interested.

I'll give it to him, as dead as a doorknob as he was he just kept on going. He told her that he wanted to get to know her better and to prove that he was sincere, she could ask him anything she wanted. The girl was trying to be polite but a sly smile came across her face. This woman may have been young but she knew what she was doing.

First she asked him if he had kids. He stalled then answered yes. She shot back she's not interesting in being involved with someone that has kids.

Secondly she asked him if he had a job which he answered "Does that matter?". Nope, no job she says. LOL. He responds by saying "Why do I need a job to rap to a female." The balls on this guy. She told him that she won't waste any time with a person who doesn't have a job or isn't interesting in bettering themselves. Bravo!!!!!

Third, she asked if he was involved with anyone and he responded that he just broke up badly. She flips it around and asks him "How do you know you're ready for another relationship of your last one just ended badly" LOL. The dude just stood there not knowing what to say next. Boom!!!! He was flabbergasted as she got up and exited the bus.

Pilot to bombardier, pilot to bombardier, I'm hit..I'm hit...I'm going down...may-day, may-day...The dude crashed burned. Hahahahahaha.


Dads Taking Care of the Business

It's always positive to see dad's with their kids especially when the child is an infant. So many children today are missing a positive male figure in their lives that when they have the opportunity to be that same type of male figure as an adult, more times than not they drop the ball. The kids need us dad's to be there through thick and thin, through good and bad
Any male can help make a child, it takes a Man to help raise a child. Keep doing right by your children guys, you'll have a much more fulfilling life when your child returns your effort with their love. I know my life is much more fulfilled.


Monday, April 23, 2012

Buddy and the Rain

Tonight would be the kind of rainy night that I would try to take Buddy out for a walk and he'd just stand in the doorway under the awning. He'd give me the kind of look that would tell me "I don't want to go out there. It's raining". LOL. And I'd tell him to "go pee-pee" in the rain. He would grudgingly go and take a leak and come back smelling like what he was: A Wet Dog.

I miss that dang dog.


Wednesday, April 18, 2012

The Smoker on the 6 Train

On my ride home after a slow Friday night a few weeks ago, my reading was rudely interrupted. An older black woman was talking out loud to herself. I would have made the assumption that she was mentally ill, drunk or just didn't give a damn. One by one the people who were seating near her got up and moved as she started to sing louder and louder off key. Another night on the Iron Horse. Right? 

So the woman ends her serenade by lighting up a cigarette. Immediately two people tell her that she shouldn't smoke that on the train. Now, maybe it's just me but if the woman was talking and singing out loud to herself what makes you think that she gives a damn what those two people thought. The woman let out an impressive stream of expletives directed to both of her antagonizers. I even had to take my headphones off to hear what she had to say. She continued on with her yelling while puffing away on the cigarette. Occasionally she would yell something un-intelligible to attract attention to herself. 

My thing is this, why would you even get into verbal confrontation with someone who might be unstable. Who knows what that woman is carrying that she can use to harm someone. Why would you put yourself in that situation. Do like the others did and move to the next car. It's really that simple. 

In the end, the woman adjusted her spring hat and decided to lay down and lounge like Cleopatra on a dais. Sometimes all you can do is just laugh and shake your head. You'll stay healthier by doing that. No?


Monday, April 16, 2012

Bad Smelling Booty

As a bartender sometimes you're an unwilling eavesdropper to conversations between patrons. Here's an example of one such conversation.

Two dudes are sitting at the bar. Dude 1 is telling Dude 2 about this chick he happened to know and hooked up with. Dude 2 congratulates his buddy while Dude 1 cringes. Dude 2 notices and the following exchange goes down (with some paraphrasing):

Dude 2: Yo, what's with the cringing.

Dude 1: Remember that chick I told you about who I messed around with in my office

Dude 2: The Blonde? Yeah, what happened

Dude 1: Well last night we randomly met up at a bar near our job. After a few drinks we made our way back to my office.

Dude 2: Yeah?

Dude 1: Yeah (with a tone of disappoinment)

Dude 2: So what happened.

Dude 1: We messed around for a bit. She went down on me and that was cool.

Dude 2: Yeah? And?

Dude 1 hesitates for a second or two before cracking a hesitant smile.

Dude 2: Yo, you hit that?

Dude 1: Nah bro, this is what happened. She dropped her skirt and thong. Very sexy of her. She was somewhat of a jungle down there and to be honest, that doesn't bother me in the least.

Dude 2 Shakes his head in disagreement. Dude 1 continues.

Dude 1: So I go and try to return the favor and go down on her and she kinda smells...

Dude 2: Like what bro

Dude 1: Like what a street meat guy would smell like after spending a whole day cutting and cooking onions and garlic.

Even I had to stop and do a double take at his last comment. Now, if anyone seriously knows me, I have an issue with bad B.O. In this day and age it really shouldn't happen. There is way too much bargain priced deodorant available. But I digress.

Dude 2: Dude!!!!! She smelled like those old dudes we used to work with in the factory back in the days?

Dude 1: Exactly!!!

It brought back memories of my dad telling me about the old Europeans who worked in the silk and carpet factory. As he would say: Eso viejos tenian un grajo terrible (those old guys had terrible B.O.).

Dude 1 actually looked like he was going to hurl right there on the bar. I give him a glass of water which helps him with his gag reflex. After a minute he was able to continue.

Dude 1: I mean, she had been working all day and most of the night so I guess she wasn't exactly fresh down there but damn. What a turn off. That was some bad, bad smelling booty.

All Dude 2 could do was nod in agreement while pointing to me to refill their empty shot glasses. Dude 1 actually looked like he was going to hurl right there on the bar. I give him a glass of water which helps him with his gag reflex. After a minute he was able to continue.

It reminds me of the time a good friend told me about going down on this girl back in High School and she smelled so bad that he smelled like Pastrami and that he couldn't bring himself to eat pastrami since.

As amusing as it can be, sometimes its best not to hear what people are talking about.


Sunday, April 15, 2012

Line of the Night

Two dudes walk by and notice the No Clowns sign and yell out"No Clowns". A few minutes later they walk back and again yell out "No clowns"this time stopping to look into to window and say "There looks like there are alot of clowns in there". To which I answer "No worries fellas, I have room for two more" which not only got laughs from the smokers outside of the bar but the two dudes who made the no clowns reference. Glad to see people in NYC still have a sense of humor.


Saturday, April 14, 2012


So he's a snippet of the entitlement issues we deal with on a daily basis. So this couple comes in and sits in the front booth. They are holding a large soda cup, the kind you would get at McDonalds. The waitress notices that they sit down and asks if they would like a drink. The woman answers "No" with an attitude. I get a gist of it and go up to be nosy. The man obviously went back to the bathroom while the woman waited for him.

When he came back, they get up to leave and I notice the soda cup was left on the table. I ask the man if that cup is his and with the same attitude his companion had answers me testily with a "Yes". I politely ask him to please take his cup with him and incredulously he asks me "Well where do you want me to take it". I point to the garbage can outside and say "You can throw it out there". He huffs while picking up the cup and storms out of the bar. 

I mean really folks, you come into a somewhat busy bar, take up a table, use the bathroom, don't buy any drinks and then expect us to clean up after you? Come on. I don't know what world you live in, but that shit doesn't fly in mine. 


Sunday, April 1, 2012

What Does Full Mean

There are times when the small patch of paradise known as the Bleecker Street bar gets so packed that a fart has a hard time coming up for air. Last night was one of those nights. After the snoozefest known as the NCAA Final Four ended, we got super slammed. 

Since I was at the door and not behind the bar, I can't say if the $$$ reflected that it was slammed, but in terms of bodies the front of the bar was jammed. Now, here's the thing about the bar. I would describe it in three basic parts. One is the front of the bar, the dart area and the pool room. While a bottleneck does tend to occur at times at the area between the front room and the dart area, the real logjam usually happens in the front of the bar near the door. That's exactly how it was tonight. People just congregated at the front door giving the illusion to those passing by that we were indeed super full though the dart area and the pool room were quite empty. 

Now being the responsible doorman/bouncer that I am (yes folks, no modesty here), I took it upon myself (as Head of Security I can do that) to close the door. Packing the front like a jumbo sized can of sardines by continuing to let people in is definitely negligence. At some point making money has to take a backseat to public safety. People who are drinking can't see that past the Jägerbomb they are consuming to realize that. It takes a party-pooper like me to deal with it. So I just stood in front of the door and didn't let anyone in. Most people either decided to go somewhere else, wait patiently or annoy the living hell out of me. 

Those who chose to annoy me could go jump of a cliff. Jackwipes. Its amazing how the feeling of entitlement some people have really cloud their views of reality. If I tell you that I am currently over capacity and that letting anyone else in would be a fire hazard and irresponsible why does that give you license to say its ok for me to let you in since friends of yours are inside. To continue to plead your case and having your friend come out and help you plead your case since you were Pre-Law for one semester in your sophomore year in college. 

Here's another one, four girls are outside and start counting the people who leave. Surprising that some of these chicks could count past four, what makes them think that I am waiting for exactly four people to leave just to immediately let them in. That defeats the purpose of regulating the door. No?

One of my "favorites" (well, not really) is the question: well how long will it take. Um, sorry to be crass, do you ask the person sitting on the bowl that you want to occupy how long are they going to take to take a crap? It comes out when it comes out. The same applies to crowds in bars. Some people leave as little individual turds and some leave as long groups stuck together. Get my drift? Apparently those on line didn't. There is no timeframe. People leave when they are ready. Ok, here's the line of the night. 

So I tell a group of young ladies that I can't let them in because the bar is full. One of them says to her friend: What does "full" mean. Does anyone pay attention in school anymore? Shit, my kids could tell me what full meant when they were kindergarten. Here's how I defined the word from the Sisco Dictionary of Bouncers for Morons: 

Full means that you'll have wait out here until I say you can come in. The safety of many is worth more than you wanting to come in and have a drink with your friends. The bar is full and the door is closed.

Well, after a few eye rolls in my direction, the chicks had no choice to wait. Sometimes I wish I had a velvet rope and a yardstick while at the front door. What a bunch of self entitled morons some of the future generation are. 

Like my recently passed friend Dan Corvino would say: OH MARRÓN. Yes Dan, you'd have shook your head in disbelief and laughed tremendously at that chick for that one while admiring her bone structure. You'd have had to know Dan Corvino to get that reference.  

Well folks, that marks the end to another Saturday night in the big city. Night night.


Tuesday, March 27, 2012

Sometimes Real Life Can't Be Invented

Sometimes people don't believe some of the bar stories I tell them. Here's one for example. Last Sunday night was rather slow and Chuck and I were being entertained by Clarence, Dawn and a quartet that seemed to love my work playlist. The two women of the group were from Norway while one of the men may have been French, the other dude didn't have a discernible accent. So since the bar was empty, I didn't mind their dancing to the music. Rather pedestrian. No? Ok, let's fast forward a few pints of Bud and a few shots of Jaegermeister.

By now only Clarence is with Chuck and I, a random dude at the bar and the mad dancers. Bump around the bar they go while "dancing". Luckily the bar was empty or else they'd have bumped into anyone and anything in sight. As it was they were already one foot out the door, the next act in the play would seal their fate. 

As I walk to the back to use the bathroom, one of the ladies was with the non accented guy. They looked as if they were simply talking amongst themselves. As I am finishing in the bathroom, I hear a series of loud "THUDS". As if a bowling ball was dropped on the floor. As I run out to see what happened, the dude was later out flat on his guy while the chick was straddling him while flexing. When I asked them what they were doing, the chick said: We're wrestling!!! Not in my bar they weren't. LOL.

I pulled them both up and told them to finish they drinks and get out. I told the dude that she was ready for him and to take her home, to which he nodded in approval. After all she was kind of feisty.You think that it would end there? NO!!! There was one more act.

A few minutes later, the Fabulous Moolah of the group runs to the back of the bar with the non accented dude in tow. As per my experience, when that happens only one thing is going to happen. To use the jargon of the Nathan's Hot Dog Eating Contest, the bathroom was a witness to some Norwegian "reversal of fortune". Guess Moolah couldn't take the wrestling bumps after all.

Luckily for her and us, she was able to make the bowl and after making her offering to Oppkast: The Porcelain God of Vomiting from Norweigan mythology (Well, not really. It's the Norweigan word for vomiting. I thought it was witty, LOL) the group quietly put their jackets on and slinked on out the door. 

Ah, another riveting Sunday in the bar business. 


Monday, March 26, 2012

The Man and His Dog on the Train

There really is something special in the relationship between a dog and its master. I got on the train as usual to go to work and to my right opposite of me was this older man sitting with a small dog on his lap. I observed how the man seemed worried about something and spoke to his dog. His companion sat there looking up at its master listening to every word intently. Imagine trying to get one of your kids to do that without fidgeting. LOL. 

The man pulled out a bag of Doritos Spicy and Sweet chips and both him and the dog ate from the same bag. Occasionally the dog would hear something that would catch his attention and momentarily lose focus in his master and the bag of chips only to return to the delicious treat. 

On and on the man spoke to the dog and the dog just returned to looking and listening. After a few minutes the dog got off of his lap and sat down next to him, deciding to get a better look at its surroundings before laying down. It made me realize that I really miss my dog. His attentiveness, especially when I had something to eat that Buddy would have love to have me share with him. :) 

It's amazing how we as humans can treat each other like shit but an "animal" like a dog treats up with the utmost and unconditional of love and affection. We can all stand to take notes and learn from these devoted creatures and in turn give them all we can as they do with us. 


Sunday, March 25, 2012

Pay It Forward

An interesting thing happened as I got off my train stop today. I was approached by a man who asked me what part of the Bronx he was in and how he would go about going to a different part that he needed to go to. I directed him and he seemed to be satisfied with my answer. That I wasn't giving him false information. 

We go on to talk about how he's recently out of jail and asked of I've heard of a particular gang/organization and tells me the name of the leader. Now for reasons of my own I won't go into details but I acknowledged that I had heard of what he asked me about and introduced himself to me as said person. To make a long story short, he was asking me to help him out so he could visit his daughters who were living in another state. Now, normally I'm not one to "fall" for a story but my gut instinct told me to listen to him. He was not disrespectful in the least. On the contrary he was quite humble. He never exerted himself as being anything that he wasn't. He wasn't apologetic or bragging for and about who he was. He was simply just asking a family man (as himself) for a favor from the heart. Never once did he ask for any specific monetary amounts. 

Ok, like I said earlier, I'm not one to fall for a story but sometimes you need to believe in and help people. I was going to take a short cab ride from the train home. Instead I decided to give him what I would have spent on the cab and decided to wait for the bus. Why? Honestly, something in him made me want to help him. Maybe it was his tone of sincerity when talking about his children. Who knows, maybe one day (and I hope that I don't) I'll be in a similar situation asking for the same kind of help. Anything can happen. 

The only thing I asked of him was to pay it forward when he was in a position to do so. He agreed to do so as he shook my hand. Now maybe I was taken for a rube. Maybe not. Hell, I spend what I gave him on a shot and tip at a bar for something that overtime with constant drinking can kill me. So why not help someone who I felt was in need. What do you think.


PS: I decided to do an Internet search on the person who he said he was as though the pictures I found were of someone obviously younger (circa mid 1990's), they looked like him. Now my curiosity is peaked. 

Saturday, March 24, 2012

The Woman With The Blue Tips

She silently enters the train at 125th Street wearing a while Hello Kitty t-shirt and a pair of black spandex tights that look spray painted on her shapely lower body. What actually stands out more than her round derrière is that the lower part of her long hair is colored various shades of blue. From midnight blue near the middle, to a bright lapis lazuli near the bottom with some turquoise thrown in at various intervals for variety. The shades of blue seem to play well against the chocolate color of her skin. Very well indeed.


Wednesday, February 29, 2012

Silence is Deafening

I've said many said that many times that silence is golden, but in the week that my beloved dog Buddy has been gone the silence is downright deafening. Where life changed when we got him. Life has changed once again when we lost him. Man I miss him so much.

Saturday, February 25, 2012

Rest in Peace Buddy 6/2001-2/23/2012

We often take routines for granted. They are something we do on a daily basis and when we need to shake things up a bit we like alter said routines for a sense of change. But what happens when our routines are changed due to a loss of someone or something important. How do we deal with what some would call mundane tasks.

It's something that I am having a hard time dealing with since we decided to put our dog Buddy to sleep. Buddy was a part of our lives for almost 11 years and part of our kids' entire lives. Something as simple as sitting in the living room could be punctuated with the jingle of the tags of his collar as he moved around the apartment, to his chasing the cats around to his placing his head on my lap as I sat in my chair. I mean waking up is weird since Buddy slept on my side of the bed and I always had to be wary about stepping on him. So you can imagine how eerily quiet the apartment is without the big lug making his usual racket.

I know that things like losing a dog or a cat to a disease or illness is part of the experience of having an animal companion. But no matter how much you plan for the inevitable, we're creatures of habit and are used to having our faithful and unconditional companions by our sides day in and day out. Even though Brigette and I had the discussion a few days earlier, I guess I just never thought that I would have to be the one to make the final decision on Buddy so soon.

I know he is at rest. Part of me is relieved for him and grateful that he is at rest since I know that at least for the last week Buddy was not himself. The symptoms of anemia that he was exhibiting made him a shell of his former energetic self. Had that been the only issue, but there were many underlying issues such as many lumps that seemed to be growing over his whole body including the massive lump that was lanced in December which refilled and became even bigger than the original in a matter of a week early this month. Add that to the swollen right paw, the edema of the chest that he developed and the very blood filled urine that he expelled while at the vet dispelled any doubts that I may have been feeling in my decision to give my Buddy some peace from the undoubted pain that he was silently suffering. I know some people have said and will say that I made the right decision. And I know that in the long run that I have made the right decision. But its hard to feel that way after spending his final moments with him, watching him close his eyes and take his final breaths and seeing him lay peacefully. It's an image that I'll have burned in my mind for the rest of my life.

I can only speak for myself but I find that things for me will never be the same. I know that at sometime down the road something obvious will remind me of Buddy. There will be a sound, a scent, an action or just a quiet moment that will remind me of my departed companion. It hurts, I smile, I frown, I laugh and I cry.

A friend posted a picture with a poem on my Facebook page that read as such:

He is your friend, your partner
your defender, he is your dog.
You are his life, his love,
his leader. He will be yours,
faithful and true, to the
last beat of his heart.
You owe it to him to be
worthy of such devotion.
- Author Unknown

Buddy, you were that and more to me. You weren't just the family pet. You were like one of my kids. The oldest of my kids. You tried my patience like the kids do and made my blood boil but the love and happiness you gave me, the devotion of standing by the window as I approached the front gate and the wagging of the tail no matter the time of day when I came through the door is something that I will always cherish and miss from here on out. I mean I could have been gone for 5 minutes and you acted as if I was gone for days with the homecoming reception I got from you. It was awesome!!!!

I hope that I was able to give you all that you gave to me and then some. I hope that I was able to give you a life benefiting that of such a loving companion as you were to me. Thank you for always being a loyal companion to Nene and Gaby. Always showing patience when dealing with first infants, then toddlers and now children. Thank you for keeping momma on her toes, always letting her know who the boss was when I was around and showing her the proper love when I wasn't. I celebrate you with a sad, empty and painful heart and soul knowing that one day, wherever I end up after my days on this world you'll be waiting for me as wagging your tail. Until then, I will try to remember the good times we had. By the way, please don't swipe too many sandwiches off the counter. We wouldn't want you to get into anymore trouble than you already get yourself in.

Love you with all of my heart. Thank you for everything.

Tuesday, January 31, 2012

How About Two Splendas

For those of you who know me pretty well, have heard of my escapades in trying to get a cup of coffee to my liking. For those of you who don't then here I am in a nutshell. I love coffee. It's as simple as that. I love coffee during the day or late night. I have coffee at home, at work and on the road. So here is my dilemma: its hard to get someone to make my coffee as I like. I'm the kind of person who is not adverse to paying top dollar for a cup of coffee from Starbucks since I know that I'll order it once, have it repeated to me once and get it just as I asked for it. Going to other places for a cup of joe can be a bit of a adventure. Allow me to elaborate.

Before heading into work I swing by Bite of Lafayette between Bleecker and Houston Streets for a cup of joe. Now there are a few people that work there. The young Thai man is always on point. Now the latino is another story. This is where I find the situation odd. I talk to him in Spanish in order to facilitate my request. This is how I ask for my coffee: Large, Light with Half and Half with 1 Splenda.

Now mind you this is not the first time this exchange between me and him has happened. Like clockwork this is what comes next after I ask for the coffee: Are you sure you don't want two Splendas? The first time I just said no, the second and third times I told him I only take 1 splenda. The fourth time he automatically gave me two and I made him make me another cup with 1 splenda. Now this is probably the fifth or sixth time he does this so I had to let him know where I stood.

Me: Every time I ask for one splenda, you always want to give me two and I always say I only want one

Him: I think the coffee tastes better with two splendas

Me: I don't like it with two splendas. It tastes too sweet with two. Just let me have one please

Him: I'm sorry, its just that people like it better with two. Its ok, the customer is always right

Ok then, if the customer is always right then why is he always trying to give me two splendas. Its one thing if he gave me a few splendas on the side. That's cool, it'll just go with my stash of splendas. But to try to force it on me is just wrong. I work in the service industry. I can understand it if he was trying to upsell the coffee. Maybe a bigger cup for a better price. Nothing wrong with that. But to say that the way you want to make it is better than how I want it while telling me "the customer is always right" is just wrong dude. LOL.

Am I right? Tell me if I'm wrong.


Sunday, January 22, 2012

As Much As Things Change...

I know that in my line of work that I shouldn't be bothered by what people say and do. That I need to have a thick skin when dealing with people who are drinking. For the most part I just brush off what is said and keep going through my night. But sometimes, people can be real offensive. Allow me to elaborate.

During the course of our evening, if we see empty glassware on tables, we pick them up and leave them on the bar for the bartenders to take care of. The way I operate, I always ask whether or not said glasses are empty. A guy my size sticking his hands in a table full of people to grab things can be a bit intimidating. I understand that hence why I ask of the glasses are empty and make eye contact while doing so. Ok, so now that you know the parameters of how I "buss" glasses, here goes with the story at hand.

So I approach this particular table with two ladies and ask them if the glasses on the opposite side of the table were empty to which one of the ladies furthest away from me said "Yes". As pick up the glasses near the woman closest to my right, I look at her, make eye contact as give her a smile which she responds with a smile of her own. Everything is cool right? Not quite. 

As I start to walk off with my hands full of glasses, the woman who just smiled at me took her purse that was in front of her and pulled it close to her. That is the action that I shouldn't let bother me but it did and I refused to let it just sit there without responding. This is how the exchange went:

Excuse me Miss, I work here and the only reason I was at your table was to clear glasses not to steal your purse. I'm not a thief."

I caught the woman off guard since he seemed stunned at my statement. She seemed to realize what I said to her after a few seconds.

Umm, I was having a conversation and all I saw was hands reaching in.

I made eye contact with you and you returned my smile. You knew I was there. What you did was offensive. I actually understand your point of view but I just wanted to let you know that what you did was offensive. Not everyone is trying to rob you"

It's situations like that one that I work the way I do. I treat people with courtesy and respect in ways that many times I am not afforded in return.   I'm not one to walk around with a chip on his shoulders but I get it. I'm a big Latino male who when he wants to be can be very intimidating and seeing me approach the table can make anyone freak out. But when you pull your purse close to you when I made no hostile attempt towards you that's just wrong. A simply apology would have sufficed instead of lying to my face about not knowing I was there. I guess no matter how much thing change, they remain the same. Just keep in mind, that the same way you worry about the big Latino guy taking your purse is the same way the skinny white man or woman can pick your pocket. To quote the famous philosopher Forrest Gump: "That's all I have to say about that".

Good night all.


Sunday, January 15, 2012

Ranting on a Cold Saturday Night in January

All we should aspire to in life is to be the best man or woman that we can be. We don't need to be perfect as that doesn't exist but to try and be the best we can be day in and day out. If we can't say that we are, then we all have some work to do. Don't you think?

Maybe it is seriously time to think about life in the woods with the animals. People and their petty hatred of things that really don't affect their personal lives is starting to bother me. Based on my prior statement it shouldn't bother me since it really doesn't affect my personal life but in my line of work I hear the garbage that people spew that unfortunately it does get annoying.

The way I look at it, life should be enjoyed and cherished because (for as much as I know) we only have one to live. Life is too short to say I hate so-and-so and hate this particular race, creed and or belief system. Life is too short for people to complain so much about what they have since there are millions who would jump off a cliff to have what you so dearly and vehemently complain about.

Perhaps I'm just too sensitive since I was picked a lot as a kid. Treated like shit because I was different due to physical differences. People can just be downright cruel when they are ignorant, unchangeable in initial reactions to something or someone or just downright afraid of what they don't know, understand or care to learn about. Not wanting to or even caring to look past the blinders which make up their narrow view on things.

Maybe I'm the one that should just have the shot, a brew and chill out.