I could start a new blog titled "My Encounters with Cab Drivers," but I feel like that blog already exists.
While sitting in a car with a complete stranger you can either choose to sit in awkward silence for the duration of your drive or you can use it as an opportunity to meet someone new.
During the 3 1/2 years I've been living in New York, I've taken more cabs than I can remember. It's a safer travel option in the middle of the night and it's the only travel option when late for work or when carrying a ridiculous amount of groceries.
I gave out latkes once on my way to a Chanukah party when the cab driver complimented me on my "amazing smelling food." (Compliments are the easiest way to getting free food from me.) We then continued to have a whole discussion on the stories and customs of Chanukah and how they were similar to some of the customs and traditions of his own culture.
A few weeks later, on my way to a birthday party, my cab driver started telling me about his wife and children. And how his wife loves to dance. And how he thinks shes cheating on him.
He spent the next 20 minutes telling me about how she's also a cab driver and how her phone has been busy every time he tries to call her during the day. When he confronted her about his suspicions, she denied it and told him she was talking to her friends. He stole her phone from her and every time he answered to the unknown or blocked incoming call, the person on the other line immediately hung up the phone.
He asked me if I was aware of another way to trace the call or to find out who it was without going to the phone company with a warrant. I gave a few suggestions but I realized that I'm just not private detective material.
So I tried the therapist approach:
I asked him what it was about their marriage that made him think she'd cheat on him. Or if maybe he was just being paranoid. Or if there was something else going on that would make him think there was someone else.
Turns out I'm not therapist material either.
But then he handed me two phone numbers which he believe to be connected to the mystery caller. I had failed at being a detective and I had failed at being a therapist so I thought it couldn't hurt to try calling the numbers for some sort of clues.
Both numbers hit an automated message usually used for computer-based phone numbers. I didn't think this type of stuff actually happened in real life to real people. I mean I knew it happened, but I had never been in the middle of it. All I wanted was a drama free ride to a birthday party and I somehow got myself involved in a heartbroken cab driver's family drama.
I felt helpless knowing I couldn't help him. I couldn't give him advice as I had never been a situation even close to the one he was currently in. And I couldn't help him track the person on the other line because I lack the skills of a private investigator. I couldn't help him and it felt terrible.
All I could do was pay my cab fare, wish him well and go on my way.
It's these moments that make me grateful for the city I live in. So many strangers and stories and lives I have yet to encounter. And though I know I can't always help everyone, maybe it helps to just listen.
Tuesday, February 4, 2014
Thomas The Stupid Turtle
I wouldn't call myself "an animal person," not because I hate animals but because I don't particularly care for them.
I'm fine with looking at them and even sharing the occasional petting of random strangers' pets on the street, but I don't think I like them in close proximity to me and I definitely don't like when my boss surprises me with a REAL LIVE TURTLE. IN MY FACE. WHILE I'M ON THE PHONE TRYING TO BE PROFESSIONAL.
When I told the guy to bring me back "a surprise," I was thinking more along the lines of bringing back a snack. Or a semi useful gift. I didn't think I had to specify because I didn't think a live animal was on the list of "Gifts Appropriate to Surprise Your Employee With."
I will be giving clearer instructions from now on.
But the weird part is that I'm not usually afraid of animals. I don't particularly want to be around them all the time, but I never thought looking at a turtle moving its creepy chubby legs would make me want to vomit. And I didn't either think that the sound of Thomas the Turtle making nose dives back into the water of his tiny aquarium would scare me to tears. (In my defense, I had briefly forgotten there was a live animal in the office with me.)
This might have something to do with my hamster I hid in the bathroom of my high school dorm for 4 months, which then died when I left him/her with someone for a weekend (we never knew if it was male or female. It's harder to tell on a hamster than you'd think). And then I cried like 4 tears mourning the only pet I'd ever had*.
*Everyone knows that carnival goldfish don't count as real pets. They don't do any tricks and have a lifespan of 2 days.
Maybe I distance myself from them so I don't get too attached and then heartbroken when they die or go missing for extended periods of time.
Or maybe I'm just more of a human person. I'd prefer spending quality time with beings that can actually TALK to me. I don't appreciate one-sided conversations with creatures that won't be able to give me advice on my life. Or tell me when they're hungry or when they want to go for a walk on their tiny turtle-leashes.
How am I expected to care for a turtle when I can barely remember to eat my own lunch?! I am not cut out for this!
I'm fine with looking at them and even sharing the occasional petting of random strangers' pets on the street, but I don't think I like them in close proximity to me and I definitely don't like when my boss surprises me with a REAL LIVE TURTLE. IN MY FACE. WHILE I'M ON THE PHONE TRYING TO BE PROFESSIONAL.
 |
| Thomas the Turtle |
When I told the guy to bring me back "a surprise," I was thinking more along the lines of bringing back a snack. Or a semi useful gift. I didn't think I had to specify because I didn't think a live animal was on the list of "Gifts Appropriate to Surprise Your Employee With."
I will be giving clearer instructions from now on.
But the weird part is that I'm not usually afraid of animals. I don't particularly want to be around them all the time, but I never thought looking at a turtle moving its creepy chubby legs would make me want to vomit. And I didn't either think that the sound of Thomas the Turtle making nose dives back into the water of his tiny aquarium would scare me to tears. (In my defense, I had briefly forgotten there was a live animal in the office with me.)
 |
| Miniature SeaWorld in the office |
This might have something to do with my hamster I hid in the bathroom of my high school dorm for 4 months, which then died when I left him/her with someone for a weekend (we never knew if it was male or female. It's harder to tell on a hamster than you'd think). And then I cried like 4 tears mourning the only pet I'd ever had*.
*Everyone knows that carnival goldfish don't count as real pets. They don't do any tricks and have a lifespan of 2 days.
Maybe I distance myself from them so I don't get too attached and then heartbroken when they die or go missing for extended periods of time.
Or maybe I'm just more of a human person. I'd prefer spending quality time with beings that can actually TALK to me. I don't appreciate one-sided conversations with creatures that won't be able to give me advice on my life. Or tell me when they're hungry or when they want to go for a walk on their tiny turtle-leashes.
How am I expected to care for a turtle when I can barely remember to eat my own lunch?! I am not cut out for this!
Thursday, January 9, 2014
My Conversation with G-d
Whenever I travel, something always goes wrong. It's like G-d tests me to see just how much He can push me until I forfeit. The cycle of events looks something like this: I plan, anything and everything goes wrong, I cry, things miraculously work themselves out.
But it has never actually happened where I get a clear sign/message letting me know that He actually heard me. Until 3 weeks ago.
I arrived into Israel on Monday evening and took a shairut (carpool cab service) from the airport to my hotel. I was the last one dropped off and when I opened the trunk, I was surprised to see that the only suitcase in the trunk did not belong to me. I started to panic but the cab driver reassured me that when the other person realized they had the wrong suitcase, they would call the cab company and the switch would be made. He told me to come back to the cab office in about an hour or so and my suitcase should be returned by then.
I went to my hotel and returned back to the cab office an hour later only to be told that my suitcase had still not been located. As it was getting later and my jet lag was kicking in, I went to check one more time and still it had not shown up.
So back to my hotel I went, suitcase-less and full of disappointment.
The next morning, I hurried over to the cab office, sure that all my belongings would have turned up by now. But no.
That was it. I came to the conclusion that the person who had my suitcase thought my clothes were cuter than theirs and they weren't planning on ever returning it.
So off I went to buy new clothes, new toiletries, and Advil for my stress-induced migraine.
It was then that I decided that I should gather all my belongings (aka my purse and another big plastic bag), walk to the Old City, and pray at the Western Wall for my suitcase.
I hadn't been to The Wall in 3 years and tend to get emotional whenever I'm there. But this time, I was the most emotional I've been in awhile.
I found a chair, sat down, and prayed my heart out (not just for my suitcase, but for everything that was going on at the moment.) Being in a different country. Alone. No belongings. I prayed for my family. I prayed for the sick people. I prayed for clarity. I prayed for my friends. I prayed for my future. I prayed for my health.. I was having an open and honest conversation with G-d. More open and honest than I've ever had. Each word took on a new meaning that I never realized was there before. And with each prayer, I sobbed. I was crying so hard my eyes were fogging up and I couldn't read the words in front of me. I read each word and I meant each word. And when I was done praying, I breathed a sign of relief.
That was the best chat of my life.
From there, I went to find the closest restroom to wash off the mascara that had rolled down my face. As I'm washing my face, I look over at the sink next to me and recognized the girl washing her hands.
"Hey! Weren't you on my [cab] yesterday?"
She paused. Then smiled as she asked, "Are you the one missing your suitcase?!"
Turns out, there had been a 3-way suitcase swap involving 2 other girls who happened to be friends. They figured out late at night that there was a mix-up but didn't know what number to call or where to go to locate the missing suitcase.
I informed them where their suitcase currently was and they organized to have mine returned there as soon as possible.
Moral of the story: Miracles do happen.
But it has never actually happened where I get a clear sign/message letting me know that He actually heard me. Until 3 weeks ago.
I arrived into Israel on Monday evening and took a shairut (carpool cab service) from the airport to my hotel. I was the last one dropped off and when I opened the trunk, I was surprised to see that the only suitcase in the trunk did not belong to me. I started to panic but the cab driver reassured me that when the other person realized they had the wrong suitcase, they would call the cab company and the switch would be made. He told me to come back to the cab office in about an hour or so and my suitcase should be returned by then.
I went to my hotel and returned back to the cab office an hour later only to be told that my suitcase had still not been located. As it was getting later and my jet lag was kicking in, I went to check one more time and still it had not shown up.
So back to my hotel I went, suitcase-less and full of disappointment.
The next morning, I hurried over to the cab office, sure that all my belongings would have turned up by now. But no.
That was it. I came to the conclusion that the person who had my suitcase thought my clothes were cuter than theirs and they weren't planning on ever returning it.
So off I went to buy new clothes, new toiletries, and Advil for my stress-induced migraine.
It was then that I decided that I should gather all my belongings (aka my purse and another big plastic bag), walk to the Old City, and pray at the Western Wall for my suitcase.
I hadn't been to The Wall in 3 years and tend to get emotional whenever I'm there. But this time, I was the most emotional I've been in awhile.
I found a chair, sat down, and prayed my heart out (not just for my suitcase, but for everything that was going on at the moment.) Being in a different country. Alone. No belongings. I prayed for my family. I prayed for the sick people. I prayed for clarity. I prayed for my friends. I prayed for my future. I prayed for my health.. I was having an open and honest conversation with G-d. More open and honest than I've ever had. Each word took on a new meaning that I never realized was there before. And with each prayer, I sobbed. I was crying so hard my eyes were fogging up and I couldn't read the words in front of me. I read each word and I meant each word. And when I was done praying, I breathed a sign of relief.
That was the best chat of my life.
From there, I went to find the closest restroom to wash off the mascara that had rolled down my face. As I'm washing my face, I look over at the sink next to me and recognized the girl washing her hands.
"Hey! Weren't you on my [cab] yesterday?"
She paused. Then smiled as she asked, "Are you the one missing your suitcase?!"
Turns out, there had been a 3-way suitcase swap involving 2 other girls who happened to be friends. They figured out late at night that there was a mix-up but didn't know what number to call or where to go to locate the missing suitcase.
I informed them where their suitcase currently was and they organized to have mine returned there as soon as possible.
Moral of the story: Miracles do happen.
Wednesday, November 20, 2013
Rhode Island & Other Adventures
New York can get suffocating. Anyone who lives here will tell you that frequent vacations are crucial to maintaining some amount of sanity. I don't know if it's all the hustling or the social overload or the weather or just the pollution (or all of them at the same time), but you can't stay here for too long without losing your mind.
I was running on 4 months without a break when my boss pretty much forced me to leave. What he actually said was, "don't come to work tomorrow. Go somewhere fun." Which he may have meant as 'go to Times Square' but which I interpreted as "go on a random adventure to the most random location within driving distance."
So with the help of a few fun unemployed friends and a school ditching roommate, I somehow ended up in the middle-of-nowhere-Rhode Island.
Our first stop was at a bar called "The All-American Bar." It was off the highway 13 miles into Rhode Island and the first bar we found. There were 10 senior citizens sitting around the square bar, most sitting with their drink and staring silently at the wall in front of them. They were all on first name basis with the bartender and were quite surprised/confused when the 4 of us rocked up.
"Did you guys come here to visit family?"
"Nope."
"Oh, so you came to visit friends?"
"Mmm..no. We just started on a road trip and ended up here."
"Oh..okay.. So where are you guys staying?"
"We're actually driving back in a few hours."
We ended up in a group conversations involving the bartender and all 10 of the other locals. They were all more than happy to give tourist advice about the local hot-spots ('local' meaning 20 minute drive away) and popular lighthouses in the area.
And none of them seemed too surprised when one of the local ladies offered home-grown jalapenos to Jane the Bartender and then offered the remaining two to me. Cuz that's normal right? People in bars are just always handing out home-grown vegetables.
We moved on from there to cobble-roaded Main Streets and stargazing in State Park parking lots. There was an unsuccessful lighthouse scavenger hunt and a We Almost Broke Down In The Middle Of Connecticut At 4am scare.
And then drove back to NYC to make some Rhode Island Jalapeno Chili.
I was running on 4 months without a break when my boss pretty much forced me to leave. What he actually said was, "don't come to work tomorrow. Go somewhere fun." Which he may have meant as 'go to Times Square' but which I interpreted as "go on a random adventure to the most random location within driving distance."
So with the help of a few fun unemployed friends and a school ditching roommate, I somehow ended up in the middle-of-nowhere-Rhode Island.
 |
| Pit stop somewhere between NY and RI. |
Our first stop was at a bar called "The All-American Bar." It was off the highway 13 miles into Rhode Island and the first bar we found. There were 10 senior citizens sitting around the square bar, most sitting with their drink and staring silently at the wall in front of them. They were all on first name basis with the bartender and were quite surprised/confused when the 4 of us rocked up.
 |
| The All-American Bar in New Kingstown, Rhode Island. Photo Courtesy of Google Images |
"Did you guys come here to visit family?"
"Nope."
"Oh, so you came to visit friends?"
"Mmm..no. We just started on a road trip and ended up here."
"Oh..okay.. So where are you guys staying?"
"We're actually driving back in a few hours."
We ended up in a group conversations involving the bartender and all 10 of the other locals. They were all more than happy to give tourist advice about the local hot-spots ('local' meaning 20 minute drive away) and popular lighthouses in the area.
And none of them seemed too surprised when one of the local ladies offered home-grown jalapenos to Jane the Bartender and then offered the remaining two to me. Cuz that's normal right? People in bars are just always handing out home-grown vegetables.
We moved on from there to cobble-roaded Main Streets and stargazing in State Park parking lots. There was an unsuccessful lighthouse scavenger hunt and a We Almost Broke Down In The Middle Of Connecticut At 4am scare.
 |
| Cobble Roads |
 |
| Roommate Sarah and I. |
And stopped to take pictures on an empty highway:
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| Walking highways |
And then drove back to NYC to make some Rhode Island Jalapeno Chili.
Wednesday, October 30, 2013
Mommy of Lincoln Place
When someone asks you if you "can cook" are they asking if you make flavorful food or if you can create edible dishes without burning them?
My true talent is not the quality or the quantity of the food I make, but rather the speed at which I am able to make a 3-course meal. My roommates find entertainment watching me defrost frozen meat in boiling water and grilling it on broil, while simultaneously cooking rice in the microwave, steaming veggies on the stove, chopping lettuce for a salad and making an apple pie in under 10 minutes. They judge my techniques yet I've never heard them complain that dinner was ready before they even realized they were hungry.
But word has gotten out that dinner's are made on Lincoln Place and they have now turned into frequent dinner events. There have been Schnitzel Wednesdays, Sloppy Joe Thursdays, and multiple Taco Mondays*.
*I know. It's supposed to be called "Taco Tuesdays" but we don't like being told what day of the week we can eat tacos.
There was also a Fajita Night (from the previous blog post) and the numerous Five-AM Dinosaur Dinner Parties:
Growing up, dinner time wasn't an option. We all sat down and ate together no matter what day of the week it was. No matter if we were in the middle of pretending to do our homework or busy with other things. It was a designated family time that I didn't exactly love back then but which I now miss.
So though I may get mocked for becoming a soup kitchen, I've fully embraced the title "Mommy of Lincoln Place."
My true talent is not the quality or the quantity of the food I make, but rather the speed at which I am able to make a 3-course meal. My roommates find entertainment watching me defrost frozen meat in boiling water and grilling it on broil, while simultaneously cooking rice in the microwave, steaming veggies on the stove, chopping lettuce for a salad and making an apple pie in under 10 minutes. They judge my techniques yet I've never heard them complain that dinner was ready before they even realized they were hungry.
 |
| Dinner was served 15 minutes later. |
But word has gotten out that dinner's are made on Lincoln Place and they have now turned into frequent dinner events. There have been Schnitzel Wednesdays, Sloppy Joe Thursdays, and multiple Taco Mondays*.
*I know. It's supposed to be called "Taco Tuesdays" but we don't like being told what day of the week we can eat tacos.
Growing up, dinner time wasn't an option. We all sat down and ate together no matter what day of the week it was. No matter if we were in the middle of pretending to do our homework or busy with other things. It was a designated family time that I didn't exactly love back then but which I now miss.
So though I may get mocked for becoming a soup kitchen, I've fully embraced the title "Mommy of Lincoln Place."
Monday, October 14, 2013
The Last Fajita I Ever Had
Day 1 of the boss being out of town and I've already gotten yelled at, dealt with more paperwork than I'd like to be dealing with and had to buy my own lunch. We are not off to a great start.
I did however get a surprise visitor with a surprise heart-attack in a cup that looked like this:
I did however get a surprise visitor with a surprise heart-attack in a cup that looked like this:
(except I stole this picture from Google Images because it was consumed before I had time to remember to take a picture).
In other news, I learned how to make fajitas yesterday and I have also been informed of the devastating news that Mumford and Sons have taken an "indefinite hiatus." I will allow a few minutes to let both of those settle in.
Between those two pieces of news, I am more emotional about this Mumford situation. Not that I don't like fajitas or anything, but it's not like there will ever be a fajita shortage. I won't ever have to reminisce about "The Last Fajita I Ever Had." But Mumford is another story. It was the only concert (aside from Coldplay) that was on the top of my bucket-list. And as amazing as that concert was, it saddens me that I may never be able to see them live again. Unless... I stalk them and follow them around and beg them to play me a song. But I'm not stalker material and a restraining order wouldn't be good for my rep.
So I think my best option would be not to mourn their separation but rather, to be happy that I had the opportunity to see them at all. Because I know how many of my friends are now regretting not coming with me.
Future Notice: When I Am Going Somewhere Fun, You Should Probably Come With Me Because You May Never Get This Opportunity Again.
P.S. Thank you Shevs for the much-needed sugar overload today. Also, for being able to read emotion through an emotion-less text message.
Friday, October 11, 2013
You Haven't Been Abandoned
I am aware that I've been slacking at this whole blogging thing but it's not because I forgot I had a blog that required constant updating. And it's not either because there haven't been any interesting things to write about. If anything, the past month or so has been a non-stop series of interesting events.
There were strangers on benches, random encounters with old acquaintances, there was the week-long party called "Sukkot in Crown Heights," I stopped running, I learned new words in Hebrew... it's been a busy few weeks. And just when things are beginning to calm down, my boss decides to tell me that he's leaving for a week and I'm going to have to handle the tornado of chaos called "My Office" all by myself. For an entire week.
I threatened my boss that I'd quit on him while he was away but then he threatened to kill me when he got back. So there goes that. I should maybe start looking for employment in places where my life is not on the line every few months (See blog post dated July 4th, 2013).
But now that my boss will be away I should have plenty of time to blog at work.
Stay tuned for a frequent update of the happenings of my life.
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