I hate you in the theater, too

I recently went to the movies, something that I love. Now, knowing as you well enough should by now having read my previous posts, people annoy me to no end. Especially in confined areas such as a theater. You have the people who arrive late to a crowded theater and can't find their friends or enough seats to accomodate them, so they interrupt the previews to ask you to scoot down a seat to make room. There are the people who talk throughout the film. There are the seat kickers whom are my personal favorites. And then there are the seat-savers, which brings me to point of this entry.

Now, we've all done the old "you go and get popcorn and I'll get the seats" thing. It was even made into a Seinfeld episode... "TAKEN! SEAT'S TAKEN!" screams Elaine at all the people trying to take up the seats she so kindly saved. In the end she has to give up her plight because, c'mon, nobody is supposed to save more than one, two at the most, seats. What happened during my recent movie visit was worse.

It was a crowded theater. Eric and I got there early enough to get our favorite kind of seats. On the aisle, behind short people so I can see the screen. Perfect. Next to me, there are three seats with coats strewn upon them. The theater continues to fill up. Usually Eric likes to put his large coats on the seats next to us b/c he's a big guy and it is hard for him to drape his coat over the back of his seat (I know, I tell him it's not cool!). This time, he did me a favor and placed it on the floor next to his seat, kind of in the aisle, but at least it wasn't occupying a seat. Yes, a few people stumbled over it, but I felt I had won the battle since he wasn't technically breaking the "no coats on seat" rule of etiquette that I staunchly believe in.

It's about 20 minutes after we had arrived (the movie has not yet started) and Eric and I are now wondering whose coats are taking up the seats next to us. People are getting desperate as there aren't many seats left. Finally a couple of older women come and ask us if the coats next to us are ours. We say no, everybody else says no, so we stand to let them by, they move the coats and take two seats, leaving two free. Of course, you know what happens next. Two people come with arms full of popcorn and cola push past us and go to the coat-inhabited seats. They tell the women that they had saved all three seats and that the one woman is now sitting in their other seat. The woman fights back. "You can't do that!" she says and I silently agree. You can't do that!!! You can't arrive at the theater, claim your territory and leave for a half an hour to do who knows what, without leaving a seat-protector behind!!! They bickered back and forth. Finally the nice woman had to get up (we stand to let her by) and find herself a new seat. I was pissed! And to top it off, loser #3 finally arrives (we stand again) to claim his prized seat. The movie starts. You'd think I'd be over it. Until Man #1 has to go to the bathroom. Stand up to let him out, stand to let him back in. Man #2 then, about 1/2 an hour later has to go. Stand up to let him out, stand to let him back in. You get the idea.

My point is this: these people do not belong in the theaters. If you don't know how to save seats and have a bladder the size of a peanut yet still insist on buying the biggest bladder-busting size of soda that you possibly can, STAY HOME!!!!!!! If you kick seats, or can't stop talking or have a terrible cold or can't find a babysitter, STAY HOME!!!!!! It will be out on video soon enough.

Drivin' That Train

So, transit strike, day 3 and my ass has never looked better! What a way to burn off those holiday calories - walking 51 blocks to and from work. In the freezing cold. It's not that bad... it only takes an hour. I'm not one of the Brooklynites who have to cross the bridge morning and night in what I can only imagine to be one heck of a crossbreeze. Alternatively, I can pay $15 each way to get to work, even though I have a perfectly good weekly MetroCard burning a hole in my pocket.

Holiday shopping has to be done on the trek home, but luckily my walk takes me through the exclusive shopping in Times Square (I Love NY t-shirt, anyone?), Columbus Circle (can barely afford to peek into the stores) and other westside shops that for some reason close at 7:PM. Any shop not on my route home is out of the question because the cost of taxis would be too much and my only other option would be to walk there as well.

I miss my train. I miss being squeezed in like sardines, rubbing against strangers. The smell, the sound of train screeching 'round the bend, the rats on the tracks, the conductors that sometimes yell at us to get inside the train or alternatively wish us a happy holiday season. The traveling musicians, who sing "This little light of mine" in harmony while passing around the hat, and end their show with "And smile! It won't mess up your hair!" in unison.

I'll tell you this, next time I'm waiting on the platform, when the trains are up and running again, I will be less likely to become impatient while waiting for my ride (yea, right, who am I kidding??!), craning my neck to catch a glimpse of the headlights somewhere down the tunnel. Perhaps this strike has taught us all a thing or two about how good we really have it. But it definitely proved, yet again, that New Yorkers are a resilient bunch who do what has to be done and really band together in times like this. I love this mess of a city that I call home!!!

Happy NOTHING!

Today is my company's holiday party. Big deal. The parties have gotten progressively worse since I have been at this agency, so there were no high expectations this year. But seriously, could it get much worse. In the past, we've had grand affairs at the Copacabana and Cipriani (the place where Puff Daddy, I mean P. Diddy, I mean Diddy has hosted a party or two at). Food, drink, illicit affairs. Even though we would have the party in January, after the holiday season when things were a little cheaper, at least they were parties. The day after always was a great day for office gossip. We were all happy and content.

Now, things aren't looking as great on the financial front, so we have been having our parties in the office. I spend enough time here. At least, when I'm out of the office, I can pretend like I'm at an event with people other than my co-workers. Last year was the same old catered food and drink, but they changed one conference room into a karaoke station and a lot of people really enjoyed it. Our group hosted our own party in our cubicles, as we did the year before, and it was a hit. People had fun.

This year is different. Originally, the party was to begin at 4 and afterwards, our group was going for dinner and drinks in Little Italy. Then the transit strike happened. Yesterday, attendance was low so to make things more convenient for those of us who can actually get to work, they changed the party start time to 1:PM, canceled the DJ and donated half the food to a very good charity (City Harvest). Well, attendance is a little better today now that everyone has found a way to get to/from work. The line for the food was as long as the lines people have been waiting on to get their trains home (lucky me, I can walk) and when we finally made it to the table, the only thing left was cheese.

Note to my fellow co-workers: do not cut the line. We all saw you and that is so rude. Why are you more special than the rest of us waiting for the only thing that could be considered a "holiday bonus" around here? Pathetic as it is that it is a plate of cheese, you should be ashamed. Do not contemplate for 5 minutes which piece of chicken looks better than the rest. Just take a piece and move on down the line!!! Do not load your plate full of all the "good" food when you see the rest of us starving folk waiting in the longest line ever just hoping there will be a cracker left. Take a little and go out and get yourself a sandwich, like I now have to do. I hate you all. I hate this company. But thanks for the cheese.

Curiousity Killed the Cat

I am at work today. Despite the transit strike, here I am. Is it because I have a very important job? No. I work in advertising. Big deal. Is it because I couldn't afford to not come to work today? No. Nothing is going on. Is it because I am the most dedicated of all employees? No. I bitch about my job all the time. Truth be told, it's because I was so curious to see what the city was like today. I couldn't sit in my apartment, in the warmth. I had to venture out and risk losing my fingertips just so I could be a part of it all. I walked 50 blocks in the bitter cold to get to my desk. What did I see? Not much. The streets were eerily quiet. Taxis were charging $15/person... at least they will have a little extra money in their pockets this holiday season. Tourists were out in full-force, like any other day. Stores were open, coffee was hot. But here in the office it is DEAD. Now, of course, I regret coming in. Because later tonight, when it's even colder, I will have to do it all over again, in the opposite direction to get to my cozy apartment, where I could have justifiably spent the day. Why am I so stupid, stupid, stupid!?

The Fabulous Life of... Al Roker

I want to be a weatherwoman. Here I sit, worrying each day that I am going to f something up at my job and get fired. What if I make a mistake? What if I don't have all the right information? What if somebody has a question that I don't know the answer to? Think of how easy it would be to be a weatherperson. You can get it totally wrong and face no repercussions. What a stress-free existence!

I can't tell you how many times they have predicted a foot of snow in the city only to be completely wrong. I wake up, tear back the curtains hoping to see the city covered in white, only to find the same old scene. No snow. Maybe some rain. Today we had a double-whammy. Predictions of a transit strike on top of predictions of slick, icy conditions making for a terrible commute. I went to sleep last night like a child knowing that the next day would be a "snow day"... no way to get to work, a Friday free! I slept like a baby, woke up only to find no transit strike and no ice. In fact, it was mild and sunny when I left for work and the trains were running perfectly.

I'm going into HR today to see about changing my title to "Presentation Meteorologist" and when I screw up the next time, I will just say "sorry, but it isn't an exact science." On top of that, I will see if I can work for approx. 3 minutes every half hour and get paid a million dollars. I will get my teeth whitenened, a sprayed-on tan and a perfectly schelacked hair-do, even, just to live the life of a weatherperson. "Our 5-day forecast... who the hell knows!? Not me! Ha ha ha ha... ", all the way to the bank.

Celebrity Smack-Down: Santa vs. Scrooge

I love the holidays. I love decorating, baking, shopping, wrapping. But I happen to work in what is possibly the most congested area in the world during this joyous season. I work a block away from Macy's in New York City.

In addition to the throngs of tourists and commuters who surround me on a daily basis, now I have to contend with the masses that come to admire the festive window scenes that Macy's displays from Thanksgiving thru to the New Year. I am all for viewing these magnificent displays. But where has the holiday spirit disappeared to? I know it's still out there somewhere... for I see many a person donning their santa hats (a phenomenon that I don't quite understand) proudly on the streets of the city.

But when I am trying to get past Macy's to go to the only decent deli in the area during my lunch break, and I have RUDE RUDE people with 1,000,000 shopping bags pushing past me or oblivious people who are so enthralled with the window puppetry that they stand in the middle of the block with their mouths open instead of moving aside so that pedestrian traffic can flow, I get a little scrooge-ish myself. I'm surprised there are not more fist-fights breaking out in this transportation hub/tourist destination that is my work neighborhood. I am waiting to see the street vendor tangle with the Salvation Army bell-ringer for getting too close to his turf. For the man in his proud santa hat to smash a bag filled with gifts to pieces because somebody cut him off. It would make for an exciting lunch break.

But since that doesn't happen, maybe the holiday spirit is still alive and well and it takes being in a sea of people to realize that we are really all the same. We all want to get to where we're going. We want to enjoy the sights around us. We want people to say "excuse me" and "thank you" and to hold the door for us. And so the next time somebody who has bargain tunnel-vision bumps me hard in the shoulder because of it, I will just look at the person next to me, shrug, smile and say "tis the season."

Leave a Message

Just a little something that I need to get off my chest... if you call me, and I don't pick up, chances are that a) I'm away from my desk, b) I am avoiding your call, c) I am on another call. So, in such a situation, leave me a message. Simple. And leave me a pointed message. I am tired of the "Hey, it's Steve. Give me a call back." Tell me WHY you want me to call you back. Because you decidedly left that tidbit of information out, I'm assuming that you are calling me because you, annoying little you, need something and don't want to ask for it on my machine. I, on the other hand, really have no desire to talk to you. I'd rather my voice mail and e-mail be the only way I communicate with you. So if you leave me a detailed message, I will most likely do whatever it is you are asking of me, then I will email it to you and then respond to your voice mail to let you know that I emailed you, omitting any form of conversation at all. See how nice and easy?

Where Have All the Ladies Gone?

I have to vent about the ladies room situation, here at my agency and elsewhere, I'm sure. Why are women such slobs? Is the men's room at all like this? Am I the only that notices this?

Firstly, the paper towel situation. It's like they don't even try to get them into the waste basket. They are strewn all over the place, little balls of paper, just dropped to the ground and left for the poor cleaning people to pick up. I can't understand it. Is there some kind of sick satisfaction gotten from being messy? Is this their way of rebelling against the corporate structure that they live in 40 hours a week. Like "Ha ha... I can throw it on the floor and nobody can stop me because I am in the bathroom and that is the one place my privacy is truly respected." But is it really?

I can't tell you the amount of times a woman will walk in and take a squat at the stall right next to the one I am occupying, not leaving a buffer. I don't want to be that close to you while you're doing your business. I don't want to hear you tinkle and toot away. In fact, I don't want you to hear me either which is why I will wait for you to leave before I do anything. And why can't you ever leave? And not just the stall... leave the entire bathroom! Stop putting on your lipstick, primping, etc and get the f out so I can have a moment!!!!

By the way, what IS taking you so long??? If you've even been in a college bar you notice how long the girl's room line is in relation to the boy's room line, right? Well, it doesn't stop after college. I have waited and waited and waited for women to get out of the restroom. I don't understand what they are doing in there. It takes me approximately 3 minutes to pee, wipe, wash, leave. Don't they realize they are not at home and there are other people wriggling outside on line, waiting for you to finish?

Oh, and then there is the pee on the seat thing. That's just disgusting. I understand you don't want to sit. So you squat above the seat and tinkle all over it. But you don't wipe it up, or use one of those seat protectors. No. You just flush and leave it for the next woman to either sit in or get all over her hands. If she's lucky enough to remember to check the seat first, then she wins the grand prize of having to wipe it up. All because you are lazy!!!! Or just mean.

Lastly, do not talk to me while in the stall (next to mine, most likely). I don't want to talk business, personal, anything. I want to pretend we don't know each other. I recognize your shoes so I know it's you. But just leave me alone. All I want is to be left alone. And for you to pick up your stupid paper towels!!!

If I Could Inject It, I Would

It's hard for anyone to admit they have a problem... but here it goes. My name is Tracy and I am a coffee-aholic. Whew. That wasn't so bad. I used to think that I didn't have a problem, that I could quit anytime I wanted, that I don't NEED coffee. But then I realized that if I don't get my morning cup o' joe, I end up with a splitting headache with no relief in sight. Either I have a cup of coffee in the morning before 10:AM, or I end up popping aspirin all day trying to alleviate the pain that no amount of caffeine can cure at that point.

When my sister and I were little, after church with my dad we would go to my grandmother's house every week and be treated to donuts and sweet coffee. (It does not stunt your growth, by the way... my sister is now 5'9".) Coffee is an integral part of those childhood memories. I don't remember when I started drinking it on my own, but I am now totally hooked.

I just recently got a coffee maker (one of the "perks" of getting engaged) but before that, I could not sleep in on the weekends because I had to get up, get dressed and go down to the local deli for a cup. Now I can brew my own and awaken to the delicious aroma every Saturday and Sunday and I've never been happier.

I tried to quit not too long ago, tired of being a puppet to my caffeine fix. Thought it would make me healthier, happier, with better breath and whiter teeth. But it didn't. Who was I, if not a coffee-drinker? Where was my identity? No coffee... now what? And what would my grandmother think? After all, if you aren't having a warm cup of something in the morning, she does not understand. Wake up and have a glass of orange juice? It's just not the same! And think about it. In all the trashy celeb mags, the stars walk around with coffees the size of their over-sized heads as if it is a part of them. Whether it be a way for them to tell the readers that they only look disheveled b/c they just woke up or because it is just cool, I buy into the whole thing.

So off the wagon I happily hopped, and am back to being my java-gulping self. But I only have one cup a day, so that doesn't make me a true addict, right? I can quit. But I want to be cool, too, so I just won't.

Waiting for... what, exactly?

I will admit that I am not the nicest person in the world. I can be moody. I can get angry at silly things. I can be irrational. But I am usually pretty polite to people in general. I love to travel. And I also love to tell stories about the rudeness of humanity after my travels.

For example, I had arrived to Dulles airport with my sister and my little nephew, 6-months-old. Her husband was picking us up so we were waiting patiently curbside. There was a man standing in the street, waiting eagerly for his ride to appear. We saw my bro-in-law pull up but he couldn't get to us b/c that man was in the middle of the road. In addition, he was blocking the only place where she and I could walk through. We said "Excuse me, sir" and he WOULD NOT MOVE. My bro-in-law laid on his horn, and he still would not move. His wife finally had to get him to grudgingly move. But not without mumbling something derogatory under his breath. My rage takes over. "Excuse me, sir? What was that? You said something?" I say. He doesn't respond. Remember, we have a little baby and stroller and baggage and his ride is still not even there. I think he may have called us "assholes" to which my sister says to his sorry wife "you must be really proud to have married such a jerk". We pack up the car eventually, then have to back up in order to get out of the spot. Again, he won't move. His wife says "They expect us to keep moving for them." The guy did not stop his mumbling and calling us names and so we drove away, angry, blaming the altercation on his obvious mental instability, while he continued to wait for his ride. To be honest, I wouldn't be so quick to pick him up either!!!

Then, just yesterday, I was in San Juan International airport with a friend, going to check ourselves in. We had no bags to check and know how to use the automated machines. We walk past an airline employee who is talking casually to a man. She stops to ask where we are going and we tell her. She lets us go, to which the man replies "Typical New Yorkers, don't give a damn about anybody" to which I said "Wow, you're pleasant". (I know, I have to work on my retorts.) We checked in and headed to the gate, only to notice that that man was STILL THERE, talking to the same woman and not appearing to be in a rush to check in or go anywhere for that matter.

So my question is this, why are the guys that are in the process of WAITING for something in airports, so damn rude to those of us who have an actual agenda? Both times, we did nothing to provoke the incident but ended up with a bad case of airport rage and a story to tell afterwards.