My Guilty Pleasure

I admit it, my guilty pleasure is reading Missed Connections on CraigsList. Part of me wants to see if anyone thought I was hot enough to write about, and part of me wants to see nerdy acts of desperation.
I think my all-time favorite posts are the "Dear waiter/bartender/desk guy at restaurant/bar/store. Are you gay? Let's meet for coffee/drinks/blowjobs. You smiled at me and made eye contact, so I picked up a vibe..."
That's mighty ambitious of you, Mr. Anonymous Gay Poster. I don't know if you are aware of this or not, but when you have a service job, especially one that relies on tips, smiles and eye contact are a good way to be friendly without actually having to be friendly. Last time I checked, doing your job was not the same as sending off a "vibe."

If You Can Make it Here...

I was in NYC this weekend, and in order to capture some of the finer moments, I posted in reverse chrono order. That way you can read down and follow the weekend in the order it happened. Enjoy!

Keep The Change

Having long-ago earned my stripes in running a cash register, I am always amazed when people show such ineptitude in this area. It's really just a big calculator. I don't know how this can be an intimidating or difficult machine to operate, aside from shady math and shifty employees.
I went out to lunch with some friends on Saturday afternoon. As is usually the case, everyone had $20 bills. We didn't feel like leaving a $17 tip on a $43 check, so we needed a little change. One person wanted to put her portion on her credit card. So we slip one credit card and $40 into the check-folio.
When our receipt finally comes back, it says that $14.50 was charged to the card. The change is conveniently absent. This would make the total amount paid $55.50. That would be a 30-something percent tip for lackluster service. I cant help but feel like someone was trying to pull the wool over our eyes on this one. The proper way to have entered the amount into the register would have been as $40 cash. That would leave the rest ($3 something) and tip to go on the card. Why on earth would a random amount of money be put on the card AND all the cash taken? When we confronted the waitress about her math skills, she grudgingly returned our cash to us with the caveat that we could have used the difference on the card to account for her tip.
Wow. Way to be double presumptuous!

What About Your Friends

I was at an apartment party in NYC on Saturday night. Seeing that many people squeeze into a 1BR convert was quite the feat. Surprisingly, the only neighbor complaint came after things were winding down.
In a city with 8 million people, you have to expect a little randomness to show up in the mix. The randomness at this party was provided by a 35+ balding man and his group of nerdy friends.
Early in the party, as in 'less than ten people,' the doorbell rang. In walks cue-ball. Neither of the hostesses recognize him, but he does say that he is friends with Mark, and they were supposed to meet at the party. Mark has obviously not arrived yet, but Telly Savalas is sure he will show up soon.
So the party starts to get in full swing. People are showing up. Lesbians are mixing sangria. Gay boys are trying to stomach beer that isn't Michelob Ultra. Gummi bears are swimming in vodka. And through all this, Daddy Warbucks is standing all on his lonesome looking like his puppy just died. Finally, he sees someone using a cell phone. He makes his move:
"Can I borrow your phone for a minute?"
Are you kidding me? You are meeting a friend at a party and you have no way of contacting him?? For real?
Long story short, after the carbon monoxide detector went off (and ended up in the freezer), and after the gummi bear vodka was long gone, Mr Clean's friends showed up. I didn't know that the AV squad was on the guest list. Apparently neither did the hostesses. Somehow, four middle-aged nerds managed to find their way into a party of twenty-somethings.
Please let me not ever be that desperate.

Stand Clear of the Moving Doors Please

Seriously, what is wrong with people on trains? Why does everyone feel the need to rush the doors before they are even open? And why do people not move out of the way for those getting off the train? Why does public transportation bring out the very worst?

As I was leaving NYC yesterday, the call came over the speakers that our train was boarding. Within seconds, a crowd formed at the door to the stairs leading down to the tracks. The doors weren’t even opened! The station agent opening the doors had to fight back the crowd just to open the door. While I was waiting for him, there was a man behind me who was from one of the –istan countries. He was pushing and elbowing his way through the cluster of people. He was pushing into me so hard trying to pass me that I almost lost my balance and fell over. He finally got on the escalator, only to have his wife screaming his name out because they were separated. He muscled his way through the crowd and left his wife behind. All this for a vinyl covered seat on New Jersey Transit. Honestly, you would have thought it was first-come first-serve first class on Acela. Not a sub-coach ticket on NJT.