Monday, October 14, 2013

#110 He Cleans Up His Spills

I think by now I've made it clear that I love the city of New York.

Here are a few past posts where I've written about some aspect of the city:

Post about Caffe Bene

Just an average day in the city

Meeting Pioneer Woman in NYC

Most times, we try to avoid the crazy parts of the city.  Crazy = Times Square.  This past Saturday we found ourselves right in the center of it all.  Leading me to this post: a rant about just a few of the things about the city that I hate.

1. The combined smell of cigarettes and subway.  This is typically one of those 'deal with it' things about the city.  That smell?  It's a part of city life.  However, on Saturday, I did not subscribe to my own opinion.  Aside from the fact that it was much warmer than I expected it to be (therefore I was constantly switching from wearing my jacket to not wearing it), I felt myself absorbing the city smells much faster than any normal day in the city.  As we drove home, Hubby began to sense it too.  He finally asked which one of us was smoking because the car smelled so much like cigarettes.  When we reached home he realized he had a cigarette butt stuck to the bottom of his shoe.

The summation of this point is that the city smells bad enough due to subways, we don't need cigarette butts all over adding to the stench.  Although I'm not about telling people that they can't do something like smoke, something needs to be done about the maddening smell of this city.  I'm thinking they should install some sort of oil burners on every corner.  How does the scent 'Apple Pie' sound?

2. People walk within the same standard of how they drive.  Everyone is so incredibly selfish in the way they walk.  Yes, we're all trying to get somewhere.  Yes, most of us are trying to get there quickly (except for the slow pokes that need to be cut around).  But at least let's all try to stick to one common understanding, one common rule for drivers and walkers in America: Stay to the right!

3. People who stop dead in their tracks.  Never, ever, NEVER stop walking in the middle of the sidewalk.  Move over to the side.  It will be a sad day, but I will run you over with a force that the Hulk himself would be afraid of.

4. Two words: chain restaurants.  I never go to chain restaurants in the city.  Being that this weekend I happened to be there with my little brother, I made an exception.  He wanted to go to a scary restaurant.  We had gone to Jekyll and Hyde last year, and he loved it.  We decided to try out Times Scare's restaurant, only to find that they had a private party and were closed for the day.  We called Jekyll and Hyde to find they had no reservations left for the day.  As a last minute resort, we went with our fall back: Planet Hollywood.  Jonathan cannot be happy with simply good food.  No, he needs a themed restaurant and by this point Hubby and I were tired and cranky.

Chain restaurants, especially in the city, are the most expensive restaurants and for no good reason whatsoever.  A milkshake was $6.99.  A milkshake!  That's the price of two tall Starbucks lattes!

Knowing that the following day I would be having a burger for lunch, I avoided the only option that was probably a decent tasting option, the burgers, and went with Lasagna Roll Ups, for $18.99, that were lukewarm and bland.  Hubby and Jonathan both ordered lunch meat sandwiches (because even though we were there at 5:00 we were given lunch, ok?) which were $15.99 and had half the pictured amount of meat on them.

Although my belly was angry, Jonathan was happy.  Jonathan being upset can be almost as bad as having a terrible meal, so I decided to leave well enough alone and force myself to be happy.

Yet to all the NYC chain restaurants I say this:

Never again.

5. Strollers.  It should be illegal to have a stroller in the city.  (Okay, I suppose there are certain things that I'm okay with telling people they can't do).  I detest strollers in the city, especially in overcrowded areas like Times Square.  The hustle and bustle of the city is too much for your little tykes.  Leave them at home.

I know, I'm brutal.

(This also goes for people who decide to use rolling luggage and walk super slow with it so that I nearly walk on top of it four billion times).

Finally, there was a positive.

After our horrible meal, Hubby and I knew the one thing that would undoubtedly cheer us up: Caffe Bene.  We could taste the smooth delight of their mocha frappe as we trudged through the crowded streets.  There was a moment of frustration where I'll admit, I almost lost hope.  "Let's just go to the car and get something on the way home," I said.  But Hubby persevered and we arrived at Caffe Bene, tired, exhausted, but glad we were there.  We ordered our drinks and the most tasty delights you could imagine.  Can you believe that I didn't take any pictures of them?!  This next part will explain why.  I waited for Hubby and my drinks to be made as Hubby and Jonathan went to find a spot to sit in.  There was some mix up on my name and the girl making my drink was screaming for "Suzanne".  Well, I'm not Suzanne so I didn't answer.  Until I mentioned that they were my drinks she was making and she looked at me and said, "So, you're Suzanne," to which I said, "No, I'm Jessica".  She apologized for the name mix up from our cashier and asked me if we wanted whipped cream, then gave me our drinks.

No sooner had I put Hubby's drink down and began finding solace in my own then Hubby had reached across the table for something, brought his hand back, just barely hit the tip of his straw with his arm and sent his drink crashing down on the floor and pouring out everywhere.

His face read:  That is it.  I have had it with this day.

I would have reacted the same exact way.  I got up to go buy him another drink and he said, "No, don't."  To which I ignored him and continued down the steps and around the bend towards the register.  I ordered the drink and said, "My husband dropped his upstairs," not in an effort to get anything out of it, but just so that she would send someone to clean it up so that my already aggravated husband didn't put a hole through their floor.

She called over to the girl who thought I was Suzanne, told her to make me another drink, and then told me to go wait for it.

I offered to pay and she shook her head.  She didn't check with anyone, and she wasn't the girl who had rung me up before.

I wanted to kiss her face.

There's something about people watching out for people and the general kindness that one person can give to another that makes you know there is still some good in this world.

Needless to say, if I didn't already love Caffe Bene before, which is just preposterous, I'm totally sold now.

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