Escape From NY: I Rub a Bull's Balls

Impressions of New York

Well, my NYC trip was eventful. I don't think I'll get that job at the investment bank, but I did get a call from a different headhunter on friday about a different investment bank, for which I am less qualified, so I got that going for me.

I'm trying to decide whether I would want to go to NYC at all. Walking around there, reminded me of the things I hate about New York: the crowds, the traffic, the urine on the subways. I took the Amtrak Acela from DC to NY. It's better than flying because

• it goes from Downtown DC to Midtown NYC, so there's no need to ride in taxis that smell like wet goats, going to and from the airport;
• there's no TSA nazis making you take off your shoes and letting their hands linger inappropriately as they make sure that bulge in your pants really isn't a medium calibre firearm;
• on a train you never worry about the wing falling off because there are no wings on a train.

Within seconds of arriving I was greeted with real NYC hostility that is usually reserved for tourists (since I was rolling a carry on bag with me, they must've thought I wasn't local). I had the following happen to me over the course of a few days:

• fat angry black woman yelling at me because she didn't want to burn the two calories necessary for her to walk around my rolling bag;
• crazy white homeless guy saying "fuck you, I'm a fuckin' vet you wall street cocksucker" when I walked around him, ignoring his shaking change cup in my face (note to self, if going anywhere near homeless people, make sure not to wear such nice suits);
• agressive chinese woman, who was less than 5' tall shoved me out the way to get on the F train first while muttering something in either mandarin or cantonese. Despite her apparent rush, we both reach the station at the same time--because we were on the same train, not in the Amazing Race.
  

It was almost like a Bennetton ad. Yes, that's what NYC is, a Bennetton Ad with angry, ugly people.

My impressions of NYC:

1. There should be no unwanted pregnancies in NYC. There is a Duane Reade pharmacy every 3 blocks in the city. Anyone who can’t walk 3 blocks to get some condoms is probably too lazy to be entrusted with something like parenthood.
2. In midtown, every other shop is 10 feet wide and 20 feet deep and they all sell the same things. Yankees caps, cell phone accessories, and I [heart] NY t-shirts. The larger stores also sell shot glasses with pictures of the empire state building and statue of liberty. Either none of these stores make money or the tourists like to buy a lot of crap that would be the bane of a yard sale;
3. Things are more expensive now. Even Gray's Papaya is raising the price of their hot dogs to $1.25. I went there and had a hot dog and a papaya drink for old times sake. Since I left NY I haven't found anyplace besides Gray's that sells Papaya drinks, but that's probably because they taste like shit and cause cancer;
4. There is probably no internet in all of Manhattan because there are porn shops every other block in midtown. They also advertise that they sell Kung Fu Movies, but I didn't go in. If someone I know saw me coming out of one, I don't think they would believe that I am still searching for a copy of "The Five Deadly Venoms".
   

Another thing that bugs me in NY is that the apartments are really small. Before I bought the ninja fortress, I lived in a 435 square foot studio in Dupont Circle (like DC's lame version of Greenwhich Village, for those of you in NYC). In Manhattan, I'd be paying a lot of money to live in a studio that was no where near as big as that. My cousin, lives in a nice building in the east village, but her place is so small that she doesn't have a TV or dining table.

She does have HER priorities in order though. She's a shoe designer, and she's got lots of shoes. So even though she doesn't have a room for a TV, she's got almost two closets full of nothing but shoes.




Here is my faboulous cousin. She's in China right now, looking at some sweatshops.














See

















I don't know how many shoes she's got (I don't have time to count that high, but I did notice she's got at least 13 pairs of boots.

Here's some of them.









We hung out and went to hipster bars in NYC. Another thing that bugs me about New York is the pretense. Three different hipster bars, yet none of them had Coronas. I was told by a snooty waitress that Coronas are only served at places for the Bridge and Tunnel crowd.
Really? I got news for you, sweetie. Get off your high horse. You're a waitress, not Paris Hilton. We look about the same age and I'm sure I've got more stamps in my Passport than you do, so fcuk you and get me my beer.

Back to the story. So we hung with her, a couple of models and a designer she knows. A fun time was had by all.



Here's a pic of a model, my cousin and the designer.







The next day I had to go downtown to Wall Street to rub a bull's balls. Perhaps an explanation is in order. A few blocks down from Wall Street is a giant brass (bronze?) sculpture of a bull. A lot of tourists take pictures of themselves with the bull's horns. I was after a different part of its anatomy:

***FLASHBACK TO SEVERAL YEARS AGO***

Scene: Me talking to my friend, Duckets, who works at an investment bank.

Duckets: No, that balls thing is a myth. Most people on wall street don't believe in that. The only time you see that is on a big trading day when the market is tanking or something. Then you'll see a line of traders behind the bull waiting for their turn.

Me: Have you done it?

Duckets: Not very often. Only when I really need it.

Me: So you only rub the Bull's balls on special occassions?

Since I don't visit NYC every day, I guess that qualifies as a special occassion and I decided to rub the bull's balls for luck. In case you thought I was making up that story about the balls. Take a look at the following picture. You'll notice that the balls are much shinier than the rest of the sculpture.



Bulls Balls