Go Tigers

I do not have the express written consent from MLB to disseminate last nights Tigers/Yankees game, please don't turn me in. Last night was my first game ever at Yankee Stadium, hopefully not my last. It just so happened the Tigers were in town. The air was a bit crisp for my field trip, but a pleasant evening for most of the game. My chaperon was a friend I met at a softball tournament about seven years ago. She's lived in NY since I've known her and unfortunately is a Yankees fan. Other than that there's nothing wrong with her. I had no need to get my mom to sign a permission slip; however, the 100 some 13-16 year olds surrounding us did. Somehow we got tickets in the middle of their high school excursion. It was amusing to say the least. At one point they asked us if were were 19...funny. Then they guessed 21 due to the suds in our hands...ha. I asked one of the kids how old he was, 13. To which I responded, "my son is 5 years younger than you." It was at this point I felt old. Of course they wanted us to buy them beer, but don't fret, your faithful narrator didn't oblige. Even though I would have wanted the same from the old dude sitting next to me at a game when I was a wee bit younger.



Our seats were higher than the teens around us, but amazingly the view was pretty good. I've sat in worse seats and paid much more. Now, anyone following the Tigers knows they are Jekyll and Hyde. The outcome as uncertain as an M. Night Shyamalan movie. I was a tame Tiger to start, but the Cats put up 2 in the top of the first. Confidence was high. But then the Yankees were given a chance to bat. Apparently, this happens every inning. Rogers was on the mound and there was no sign of pine tar on his hand, lord help us.

Eventually, the Yanks tie on a 2 run shot by Cano, who's hitting sub .200, nice Rogers. It's right around this time that our new outfielder, Jones, boots an easy grounder hit to left. A ball that my 8 year old could field cleanly, 10 out of 10 times. Then he steps into the batters' box in the top of the next inning and hurls his bat like a boomarang fired out of a cannon. He almost made it into the stands past the Yankees dugout. I guess he was having a hard time holding onto things last night.

The Tigers regained the lead later in the game on a laser that never got more than 25 feet off the ground courteous of Sheffield. I don't know if I've ever seen someone hit a ball as hard as this guy does. It's as though he is trying to punish the ball for all the injustices against him. The rest of the game was bits and pieces. My friend and I were too busy laughing and making fun of teenagers to concentrate on every pitch. I do remember Todd Jones doing his best to blow the save, but prevailing in the end.

By the end of the game most of the Yankees fans had cleared out. Those that were left shouted a few obscenities at us, but I've heard much worse. The overall experience was incredible and I will definitely be back. The only thing I didn't do that I always try to when I visit a new stadium was bring home a souvenir. I couldn't see spending one cent on the evil empire. I think the pictures will be good enough. Can't wait for summer to swing into full gear so I can go to a few more games there and at Shea. Go Tigers!!!!!

A beautiful shot of the Bronx peeking up over centerfield.


This is where the 4 train drops you off. You ain't gonna find a parking spot like this back in Detroit.


The new stadium going up right next store. The House that A-Rod built? If you turn to the left, you see the picture one above.

Client Tell

The last thing I will ever do on this blog is kiss and tell. Ambiguity, my companion. Part of my job is going to be to take clients out when they are in town. It was a big reason why I took the job. I enjoy people and being out and about. But like Vegas, what happens, stays. Not that it's crazy and inappropriate, but it don't concern you.

Recently I had my first entertainment opportunity. What was nice was that it was people I knew and have worked with in the past. But I never got to hang out with these people in a casual setting. We had dinner at a very nice steak joint in the meat packing district. The food was only rivaled by the company. There's something to the saying, "good people, good times".

We ate enough cow to upset PETA nation, but not before consuming an incredible seafood platter. And had Tanqueray been an endangered animal that night, we would have wiped it from the face of the earth, vanquished it. While the food was divine, the beauty of the evening was the absence of shop talk. Sure we talked about the latest buzz in the biz, but that's what I would converse about with friends, which is exactly what we were/are. That's the greatest aspect of this business. At the end of the day, you are more friends with these people than co-workers.

This ain't no TV drama

Lost. Not on an island. Well, actually I am on an island. But I'm not stuck here because of a plane crash. As a fan of the English language, you'd think letters were my friends. But not when an F or V or B or N or whatever some deranged guy that named the trains makes sense out of nonsense. Some times straight is straight, other times straight is fuckin' crooked. Except you never know when straight is straight or straight is fucked.

And so it went when I first got lost on the train. I walked the same steps I walked for seven days, just at a different time. Got on the right train, but didn't get off at the wrong stop. Then changed the wrong way at the right track. Followed by walking up and down the same set of stairs three times, second guessing myself because of previous errors. Are you confused yet? Imagine my mindset after a few drinks. Long story short, F and V are as different as, well, F and V. My bad...lesson learned.

I have since made similar mistakes, but have managed to not make the multitude of mistakes I made that night. What was normally a 25 minute train ride took an hour and a half that night. And so it goes.

Friday, I'm in Love

60 hours with no responsibilities, nowhere to be. In a city so big King Kong had to climb the tallest building to be noticed, I found my building to ascend.



McKenna's at 8th and 14th seemed as scalable as any other. Cheap drinks, friendly staff and just short of disease laden couches welcomed me with open arms. Six beers and a couple shots later the mix of rap and alternative music wore thin on the Irish bar's charm.

My next pit stop at the early hour of 11 delivered me into the mind of a co-worker. I got a peak inside the ear of a very gifted musician. The sound waves I surfed were cutting edge and extremely varied. I gained a whole new level of appreciation for those that create music that night.

The previous night's adventure left me dead to the world until the early hours of Saturday afternoon. Thank God. Quite literally. The Pope was visiting that morning. Meeting a friend later that afternoon, the plan was to get up early and walk the streets by the MoMA. Even with my late start the pavement was packed with Pope fanatics sporting shirts, banners and all. Any earlier and I would have been part of the sea his holiness was cruising. So the miracle of a hangover saved me from that crusade.

Lunch with my friend was great (even better because it lead to Tigers/Yankee tickets next week). We walked from the MoMA down about 25 blocks to eat at a place called Live Bait. By the time we found a place and ate it was late enough to call that meal dinner, although it ended up being all three of my feedings. With a full stomach and a tired body, it wasn't much later that I was back at the apartment, crashed for the night.

Sunday brought my first laundry adventure, which was the first annoyance of the city I've experienced. An hour and a half of watching suds shift through the cycles. Not too exciting. Spent the rest of the afternoon deciding what to do that night. An invite to hang out with some people I met on Friday seemed like an option, but laziness was setting in. However, a follow up invite via text left me no option but to attend.

Later that night I found my second favorite place in Manhattan, a dive donned Welcome to the Johnsons.

$2 PBR's says it all. Johnsons was dark and dingy, but delightful. It wasn't a late night, bolted by 11:30, but fun none the same. A 20 minute train ride back (a commute in a car that easily could have resulted in a .08 problem) and I was ready to get a few hours of sleep before starting all over again.

As each day passes, I wonder what the next will bring, but not without reveling in the moment. One week down, and just the beginning.

Three Days in

I never believed in love at first site, although I've been a victim many times. However, after three days in the city, I have found my true love. Perhaps it's just that feeling of something new, like in a relationship. That time when you want to spend every waking moment with that new person. The feeling that you could be with them forever and they are perfect.




This was the view from the cab ride in to the place I am staying in Williamsburg. What's not to love?

Work is phenomenal. I am actually in a creative environment. You would think working at an ad agency would have been creative work, but when the clients are captaining the boat, creativity gets keel hauled. The crew I get to call my colleagues is terrific. The commute in is painless, much easier and cheaper than the $80 a week I was spending on gas in Detroit. And while I haven't mastered the standing/holding the pole/reading thing yet, I feel I am only days away. And while we are on the subway topic, I caught my first glimpse of a rat yesterday. Had seen mice before, but this small dog was by far the biggest rodent I have ever seen. But he harmlessly scampered five feet below me in the subway tracks. He, or she, was almost cute from that distance. I was hoping the little fella, or fellher, would find something to eat. But then I lost interest after about 15 seconds and it was the last time I would see her, or him.

The weather has been gorgeous which helps the Magellan in me skip subway stops in lieu of taking in the surroundings. Today, I passed my stop on 16th and 6th, electing to get on around 9th street. People are everywhere, mostly talking on the phone or playing with their iPod, but it's nice to see so many people out living. Sometimes in Detroit after sitting in the car for an hour and being confined to a home in the burbs, you forget that there is a whole world out there, existing.

The toughest part of living here has been not seeing my two boys. I do miss them and I wish they were here to experience this place. Although, I don't feel they would enjoy it as much as I have. We did video chat this evening, which was a nice way to end the day.

So three days in and I am very happy here. While, there are incomplete parts of my life right now, I am really enjoying the parts that have filled in thus far.

Parallels

For centuries men have ventured into nature to find themselves. Isolated from civilizations to find their true self or happiness. I wouldn't last two days in the Alaskan wilderness. And unlike Chis McCandless, I've never sought isolation. In fact, companionship has been my crusade. Yearning for the attention of others. However, not unlike McCandless, I find myself walking alone Into the Wild. Yet my great Alaskan adventure doesn't take me to the Pacific NW, but instead to the world's largest concrete and steel jungle. And as McCandless trekked to isolation, I now do the same.

The millions of people nomadically walking the streets of Manhattan will afford me the ability to get lost and finally look inward. There, I am just as insignificant as a sole human traversing uninhabited wilderness. Only when we accept that we are nothing can we begin to live for something. And after all, isn't that why any man barricades himself from society? To strip his soul bare and redress it?

"Leave it to me as I find a way to be."- Eddie Vedder