Subway Hell

This morning I had one of those experiences that start the day off in such a way as you know there can be no good to come of it. I should have just turned right around and went back home.

1. No A/C on my 40 minute subway ride.
2. When I got a seat, the girl next to me decided that a crowded subway in the morning is the ideal time and place to remove her nail polish and put on a new coat.
3. A female crazy/subway preacher yammering on about God and Christ and us Sinners for 40 minutes in the background. I had forgotten my headphones at work on Friday so I couldn't drown her out.

Now at work I feel a bit sick and to top it off since I took Friday off there is so much to attempt to catch up on.

If you are ever on the subway in the morning and come across this trifecta... flee.

Only For Use On A Fire At An Art Museum

So a while ago I saw an article on a technology site about how to turn a fire extinguisher into a spray paint can of sorts… or a flamethrower. Here’s one such how-to article:

http://www.instructables.com/id/SU27VKUF3KLNUCB/

Just yesterday I was walking down the 3rd avenue and at 10th street I saw my first fire extinguisher tag:






Messy… but huge and pretty cool.

Grand Central Casting

I have started playing a new game on the subway to pass the time. I cast my fellow travelers in a movie based purely by their physical appearance and/or demeanor.

It started a couple weeks ago on the way from Brooklyn to Manhattan with my Fiance in a train that was about 1/4 full. I looked at one man sitting a few seats from me and realized that he would be perfectly cast as the "Gruff But Loveable Father Figure." It made me then take a closer look at my fellow straphangers and start placing them in their various stereotypical movie roles.

Two 18-22 year old girls sitting near each other, but not with each other. One of them Jewish and conservatively dressed reading a textbook, the other black and more stylish, reviewing what looked like work for school. I immediately cast them as the 2 "Bickering Intellectuals Who Can't Seem To Get Along Or Agree On Anything But In The End Realize They Are More Alike Than They Thought."

Across from me was a thuggish dressed young black man with a big build who would immediately be cast as the "Guy From The Wrong Side Of The Tracks That Eventually Sacrifices Himself To Save Everyone."

Also in the train at the time was the "Prissy Beauty Queen", "Nerdy Dead Meat", "Hysterical Mother", "Weaselly Traitor", "Frightened Children Who Go Into Shock", and "Goofy Best Friend Who Dies At The Beginning Of The Third Act."

Not everyone gets a role, those that I don't cast end up as extras.

Myself? I'm cast as the hero of course, with my Fiance as my love interest.

Oh The Places You'll Go

Spotted in front of Grand Central Station:

Should I Stay Or Should I Go?

Living Among Giants

Even as a little kid, New York City had a grip on me. It wasn’t like the suburbs or anywhere else that I was allowed to spend time. The train ride into the city, or the drive when you first saw the top of the Empire State Building off in the distance. It was just magical. It was a place of giants.

From the time I was very small, I would get an adrenaline rush at the very idea of being in this city. My Father was always the one to bring me here and it was his love of this city that not only fueled my own, but thrilled me to no end. It was as if he wanted to make sure I could experience some of the sights and sounds and go home carrying memories embedded into my very being.

He succeeded.

I thrilled at the times when Dad had to come to work on Saturdays. It was always for just a couple hours but I loved to go with him. I would bring some books and other items to keep myself busy and we would go into his office building down on Water Street, right beside the South Street Seaport.

When we got there, Dad would go to his desk and before he started working would give me a dictation mini-tape recorder. There was nothing cooler, circa the early 80’s you could give a kid to play with. Well, there was one thing.

The entire floor of an office building.

There would be no one there but my Dad and I and I would run laps around it. Peer from every window. Tape record my footsteps. I would look at what was on peoples desks and maybe borrow a pen if I needed it.

To a small child, the floor of an office building is just about the ultimate playground. I would attempt to use the phone or sit in important peoples desks and pretend that I worked with my Dad. Then, as now, I can imagine anything cooler than working with him.

I can still remember standing and leaning against a window, gummy bears (which were new to the US) in one hand, and peering countless floors below me at the tiny people and cabs and cars. Wondering what they are all doing and how important and happy I was to be way up in a building, higher than I had been outside of a plane.

When Dad would finish his work we would go to the South Street Seaport which was still home of the Fulton Fish Market back then. It would smell a bit, but then you would burst through the dead fish scent barrier to a wondrous outdoor mall area. It was full of people and food and activity and my favorite at the time, street performers. If my Father would have let me I would have watched them forever.

In the past 28 years of my life I’ve only spent 5 of them not living near or in this city. I’ve lived in NYC for 10 years now and love this city like I could no other. It is a city that can still instill in a 36 year old man the thrills and emotions that excited him as a little child.

Overheard and Overseen

Overheard:
Older Man: Hey... Wait up!
Older Woman: What is it? My feet cold!

Overseen:
In Dunkin Donuts line, a line of chat on a well dressed man's Blackberry Pearl:
"Whatever. I was waiting to see if bitch tits was going to come with."

classy.

Day With The Dead

Ever been to a morgue?

I have. And not just any morgue.

The Bellevue Morgue.

You know… where the random people and the crazy and the homeless end up.

Needless to say it was a tad sobering.

Back in the late 90’s, I think it was in the year of our Prince, 1999, I was working on a photo shoot for Details magazine. Details was going to be having their annual “Movies” issue and had this idea. Let’s get a script by a screenwriter and shoot it as a fashion spread, using sub-lebrities.

How sub-lebrity were they? Well here’s a list off the top of my head who got to star in this:
Billy Zane (as the lead)
Buster Poindexter
Saffron Burrows
Lisa Rinna
Rose McGowen
Isaac Hayes
Paul Sorvino
Tom Arnold
Traci Lords
Denise Richards (who is key to the morgue)
And a host of others that make no sense in 2008.

There are many stories from this shoot from such joy as having to rush to get Paul Sorvino’s pants dry cleaned in 2 hours, Traci Lords snubbing the Editor in Chief of Details by turning and talking to me (a no one on set) while I was lugging cables one day on set instead of talking to him, to having to pick up Tom Arnold at the SoHo Grand… but none have stuck with me like the morgue.

Back to the morgue.

To get to the morgue you have to take an elevator down and then navigate through a series of hallways to it. The room was fairly big with the refrigerated doors with rolling trays for people like you see in the movies around the walls with a bank of them in the center of the room, dividing it in two. There were a couple rooms off the side, one of which had a door open and was filled with plain pine boxes.

We moved in like a small army. It was interesting mix of people, fashionistas and photographers, lighting guys and PA’s, not the types you’d expect to be hanging out in the morgue.

We were to be shooting a scene in the morgue that had Denise Richards lying on a refrigerated tray as one of the “victims” in the story line. They had made sure one had been emptied for us when we got there so she would be fine to lay on it. We weren’t to open other drawers. Not that I wanted to.

As we’re all setting up on one side we began to hear a noise from the other side of the bank of refrigerated drawers.

BANG!

BANG!

I look around the bank and see the morgue workers stacking body bags. Full body bags. With people in them.

BANG!

They were stacking them one on top of each other on gurneys and wheeling them away. It sent shivers through you to see them and think that those were people.

We ended up finally setting up the shot and Denise (who was dumber than one of the corpses loaded on a gurney and fresh off the Starship Troopers set) got situated in the drawer. The photographer then had an issue of some sort and we had to wait around for 20 minutes while they made a decision. It was cold in there, very cold and Denise was wearing only a tank top and jeans laying on a stainless steel tray. Eventually I went over and asked if she’d like a jacket while we were getting everything sorted. Her response, “Oh, yeah! That’d be great.” I then reminded her in the future to ask for such things. I’m sure she does now.

Eventually we got the shot and all the important people got out of there with a quickness. As I stayed behind with some others to pack up equipment we struck up a conversation with one of the morgue attendants. He explained the filing system for bodies and how the colors of the cards on the trays let you know from a quick glance whether that tray holds a child or adult body.

He also told me something that has stayed with me to this day and I obey.

He said told us how bodies are held there for 2 weeks to be ID’d or claimed and then they are put in the pine boxes and sent to a potters field to be buried as John and Jane Doe’s. Once he learned that he said he made sure that he always has his ID on him when stepping out of his house.

Now, I do too.

Snow Car Anti-Theft Technique

Company Name I Wish I'd Thought Of