Can We Afford to Eat There?

I walked through Times Square, the must-see destination for tourists in what is arguably the Greatest City in the World—a nucleus of hotels, entertainment, food, and street shows. But, sadly, I noticed that the streets of Destination Numero Uno are lined with chain restaurants—the same ones that populate every suburban shopping complex in the U.S. of A. After site seeing in a bustling new world the likes of which, perhaps, you’ve never seen, it’s perfectly understandable to seek something familiar and comforting for dinner. 

Alternatives exist that are cheaper than one might expect. Get a bagel with lox, pretzel with mustard, and real New York City pizza. I know you’ve had Hebrew National hot dogs before, but there’s nothing like Central Park on a blustery winter day—chowing down a hot dog. 

It dismays me to think that tourists might forgo the culinary wonders Manhattan has to offer. Budget your trip expenses to permit one dining splurge. Many restaurants offer a true taste of extravagance. Not even Gordon Ramsay can afford to eat at Gordon Ramsay at the London. But you can find upscale restaurants that offer less expensive bar alternatives, like Maze by Gordon Ramsay.

Food is a crucial motivator for travel. Different countries/cultures boast unique, amazing food. So do American states.  

Maybe it’s just my inner food snob speaking, but, while on vacation, everyone should experience one-out-of-this-world meal. It’s a damn shame to travel to the Greatest City in the World only to end up at TGI Friday's.

Wrong Number

No one really dials a number anymore. Either you take advantage of speed dial or you comb through your phone book and select the friend you wish to call.

With all the advances in technology that makes many things, like placing a phone call, so effortless (who remembers phone numbers?), one should take extra precaution when physically dialing a number … especially at five a.m.

I can imagine a few scenarios where one would need to call someone at such an hour. A death in the family, husband or child didn’t come home—all stressful occurrences, which might lead one to dial in a panic.

But, please pay attention, because I don’t know you, “Hamilton, Geoff” from (614). And I’m sleeping. 

If I End Up in the Hospital, You Know Why ...

Call me a food snob. I’ve dined at some of the best restaurants in Manhattan. I recall every detail of every meal. My two best? Gordon Ramsay at the London and Bouley.

So when I walked into McDonald’s with the intention of ordering a McRib (at the behest of a friend), I wanted to keep a low profile. Because: I work out six days a week and I eat vegetables! Then again, the company I keep is also pretty healthy. So if I ran into someone I knew at McDonald’s, I’m sure they’d feel just as busted. But, since one of the 70 ingredients in the McRib is a product used to make yoga mats, that makes the McRib a quasi-health food, right?

Fearful that other customers would judge me, I planned to whisper my order. I imagined adjacent customers would say, Is this dude really ordering a McRib? Gross. I successfully placed my order with the cashier who appeared to be the only one listening to me. Excellent. He’d hand me my food, I’d run to my car, take several bites, toss the evidence, go home and take a cold shower.

I found myself wondering if I should order a back up meal. Yeah, I like foie gras. But I also like a double quarter pounder with cheese. To be a proper food snob, you can’t thumb your nose (snout?) at lesser foods. We should find something enjoyable in every meal.

An employee appeared with a to-go bag presumably for me. I hurried to grab my food, but before I extended my hand, her voice rang out. McRib, to go!

Damn. Everyone was looking at me. I thanked her, snatched the bag, and ran to the safety of my car.

If you ask any non-food snob if he’d willingly eat the lesser-known parts of a pig—heart, snout, maybe even some skin— he’d probably say no. But people eat these processed pieces of meat every day when they eat fast food or a Slim Jim.  So in some weird way, they’re food snobs too, eating unique and odd food combinations that other people might snort at as being too pretentious.

I ate my McRib in the parking lot, half regretting not ordering fries, a milkshake, and a double quarter-pounder. During my drive home my teeth started to hurt. Not one tooth—all of them.

Making Lists

I make lists the old-fashioned way. On paper. I don’t have an iPhone, which means I don’t have Siri. I suppose I could use the memo pad on my not-as-fancy Smart Phone, but then I’d have to remind myself to check my reminder notes.

One of two things always ends up happening. I either forget the piece of paper at home or I forget that I have it on me until I get home and empty my pockets.

This makes going to the grocery store a hassle. The usual things—like time constraints, long lines, or annoying people who park in the center of the aisle and don't hear me say “Excuse me”—don’t bother me (as much) as always forgetting the one thing I absolutely needed just as I pull out of the parking lot.

Son of a bitch! Toilet Paper!

60 Minutes

Lately, I’ve been getting a lot of comparisons to Andy Rooney.

I disagree. For starters, I don’t look like I’m in my 90's and Andy doesn’t look like he’s in his 20's. I rarely wear suits. But every time I see Andy Rooney, he's always wearing one. And my eyebrows are not the slightest bit bushy. 

We do put our elbows on the table, though.

I’m not saying similarities between the two of us don't exist. We both have noses. And eyes, too. And it just so happens that we both hear with our ears. So in that instance, we’re very much alike. We’re both men, too.

So for friends and family to say I remind them of Andy Rooney just boggles my mind. Unless, of course, the similarities they speak of have nothing to do with appearance. 

WALKING

Walking is great. I use my feet to take me places, like from my sofa to the bathroom. Or from my car to the subway. Sometimes, if it’s nice out, I’ll even park my car a little further from my destination.

But sometimes people walk incorrectly. Walking, like driving, takes great concentration. You shouldn’t text while you drive, but you also shouldn’t text while you walk. There are all sorts of distractions, from light poles to other pesky pedestrians to uneven sidewalks that can get in your way.

I wish Apple had a horn app that I could download so I could honk at people who linger after getting off the escalator, or slow down in the middle of the sidewalk instead of stepping to the side. Saying excuse me just doesn’t say hey you, get out of my way like a blasting horn. Although I guess saying, “Hey you, get out of my way” would work.

TRAPPED

I was trapped in an elevator once. I was going out for dinner with some family friends. We were starving. You know that scene in You’ve Got Mail (shut up, you know you’ve seen it) where Joe Fox (“F-O-X”) and his neighbors are stuck in the elevator and they’re doing that whole if I ever get outta’ here thing? That was us, except we were thinking about what we’d order ...

I’ve yet to be stuck in an elevator again. I don’t want to be stuck in an elevator … but if it happened, I would hope it’d be the time I was coming back with some delicious Chipotle or a burger from that burger place I like so much in New York City. That wouldn’t be so bad. Or with a deliveryman from a pizza place or a Chinese restaurant. They always put plastic forks in the bags, so we’d be good.

But there’s the possibility that the deliveryman has a 100% successful delivery rate and refuses to eat the food. I’d offer to pay for it, of course, but with a 100% successful delivery rate, I doubt that’d matter. Would I tip him? After all, I didn't actually place the order. I imagine that the family who ordered Chinese food or pizza would want us to eat their food if they knew we were stuck in an elevator possibly starving to death.

I just hope I never get stuck in an elevator when I have to pee, because deliverymen don’t carry empty water bottles.