Long distance is the wrong distance.

In the age of iPods, iPhones and MacBooks, outlets are a hot commodity at the airport. If you get lucky, you will even get to see people fight over the only outlet at Gate C10.

After 3 hours of last minute packing, I manage to get all my boots and hair products into a rolling duffle, a 25-inch suitcase, a purse, a backpack, and a carryon.  All except one boot.  Not a pair of boots, just one boot.  So I open every bag trying to rearrange items in order to stuff this one boot in without smashing any shampoo bottles.

Apparently, a Google search for “yellow cab” won’t show up a phone number for a yellow cab. They don’t want to come to Brooklyn anyway, so limo service it is.  So I get a phone call from the car service at 1pm, my car has arrived.  I go outside and my car is around the corner, next to the car is a girl listening to her iPod.  She doesn’t look like a driver, but she is standing by my car so I ask, “Are you my driver?”  In some sort of confused excitement, she says yes.  So she follows me into my apartment and I give her one of my bags to carry.  She looks at me with bewildered eyes.  Definitely not my driver. I somehow managed to pick up some random girl off the street. 

United charges $15 for your first checked bag, $40 for two bags.  Checking bags cost half my plane ticket.  Checked bags must be less then 50 lbs.  I sit at the airport for 20 minutes repacking my bags.  Twice. 

At the security gate, I am stopped by the security guard. 
“Excuse me miss, you have three bags.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Yes, you do.  One, two, three.”
“Yes, but I’m smaller then the average American traveller.  My backpack doesn’t count.”
“Go check one of your bags or make them two bags.”
Humour me.  Note the “u” for good measure. 
Repacking at the airport for the third time.  So far, I am not a fan of LaGuardia airport. 

I also think that airlines should charge plane fares by weight.  It's not fair that I pay the same amount to fly as someone who weighs 250 pounds. 

...brings May flowers.

And these guys.

Just in case you were wondering what New York looks like in the spring.

Click on images for a full sized effect. Note the the guy on the left with leathered man-boobs.

My life in boxes.

This summer, I will have belongings scattered across the globe.  My winter wardrobe will reside in New Jersey, my furniture in Brooklyn, my surfboard awaits my return in Poway, my nonessentials, car, cat, and half my wardrobe rests in San Jose, while I and my portable wardrobe will roam the eastern suburbs of Sydney, and I think I might still have stuff in San Diego and/or South Pasadena.  Thank you friends and family for letting me use your basement/garage/closet for storage.  One day, I'll have a home where all my belongings will reunite and I'll invite you all over for dinner. 

Strawberry Fest

In celebration of my favorite fruit...

...this is New York's longest strawberry shortcake.  It was delicious.  I forgot my camera and had to rely on the camera phone.  I sat and ate all my strawberry themed goodies on a bench in Washington Square Park.  A feather floated down in front of me and my friend exclaimed, "Forrest Gump!!!"  and then a bird pooped on her.  It was poetic.  

She still lives in Brooklyn.

The Alligator Lounge on Metropolitan gives you a free pizza with every beer.  If you order a Bud Light, this comes out to 4 dollars, plus tip.

I spent 20 minutes at 3am Wednesday night looking for someone's tooth on Leonard Street.  We found the tooth, he put it back in his mouth after we picked it up from the sidewalk.

The sushi chef at Wasabi on Bedford Ave is awesome.  He makes me custom plates and doesn't charge me for them.

The Korean laundromat on Metropolitan has shitty dryers.  They are open 24 hours.  The people there suck.

Settepani on Lorimer has the best butter cookies.  They will cost you 16 dollars a pound.

The Bagel Store on Bedford Ave and N 3rd has cannoli cream cheese with white chocolate chips.

I took a train to Long Island and found myself in the east coast version of San Jose.  I think dreams have died there, too.  

Dreams have died here.

In the words of a wise man, Coney Island is where dreams go to die.  

The hot dog line was 2 hours long, I saw a man eat leftover ice cream out of the trash, the Freak Show was closed, the beach had a fake plastic palm tree, the broken sink had a sign that read "Don't work".  

The City Sparkles

As April rolls around, I am heading into my fourth full month in New York. I'm starting to get into the flow of things.  I have a weekly routine that consist mostly of writing papers and going to work.  Frequent visitors gets me out to do touristy things that I would otherwise miss.  

I finally made it out to get the view of the skyline that I have been dying to shoot since I moved here.  My lack of a tripod has prevented me from doing this at night and it really hasn't been clear enough to get.  Fellow Pad Squad and Aztec, Jeff, was also dying to get this view, so we headed out there our first night.  Of course, it was cold and rainy and all our pictures came out fuzzy and gray.  After the unfortunate outcome of the NIT semifinals game at Madison Square Garden where the Aztecs lost to Baylor, we went back to Empire Fulton-Ferry State Park along with a friend Jeff made on the subway.  (Who is Baylor anyway?  Has anyone heard of them before last night?)  With Jeff's gorillapod that looks like some sort of sex toy, we managed to get some decent shots of the Brooklyn Bridge and the Manhattan Bridge.  It was much clearer the second night, I even saw a star or two, but it might have been airplanes.  I can't even distinguish between them at this point.  

Jeff and his gorillapod will also be in Australia this summer.  Sparkling photos of the Sydney skyline to come.