I Feel Relatively Neutral About New York Read online

  PROS: Literacy rules.

  CONS: It seems like more people are interested in seeing where Carrie got married in the Sex and the City movie than finding reading materials.

  CONCLUSION: Try one of the smaller branches in Brooklyn or wherever. Fewer tourists, same great books.

  FASHION WEEK

  Twice a year, New York hosts Fashion Week, when all the biggest designers get together in a massive tent to tell everybody what’s totally hot and what is totally not. And if all the world’s a tent, as Shakespeare wrote, and all the designers and customers are merely players, then it only makes sense that we’d write a one-act play about the ordeal, perfect for your local community theater or dumpy performance space. Standard royalty rates apply.

  Fashion Week: A Play in One Act

  By Avery Monsen and Jory John

  Big Designers: Hey! You there! With the pants! Those pants are not hot!

  You: But I just bought these this morning! From you!

  Big Designers: Our decisions are totally arbitrary and totally final! NO LONGER HOT!

  (You go home and cry.)

  Big Designers: Crying is also not hot.

  (Curtain.)

  PROS: Pretty people. Pretty outfits.

  CONS: The whole thing is strategically designed to make you feel like a fat piece of shit.

  CONCLUSION: Auf wiedersehen.

  CREATE YOUR OWN SIGNATURE STYLE

  CLOCKWISE Cloud hat made out of goose dander: $9,000, Pants made of live mice: $8,000, I Feel Relatively Neutral About New York shirt neutralnewyork.com: $20, Boots made of actual chimneys: $12,000, Underwear with a video screen that automatically syncs with your Netflix queue: CURRENTLY UNAVAILABLE TO THE PUBLIC., Coat woven from shredded tires: $3,200

  GREENWICH VILLAGE

  Do you know the album The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan? On the cover is a picture of a twenty-one-year-old Dylan with his then-girlfriend, strolling arm in arm through Greenwich Village in 1963. If you have the album, queue up the song “Bob Dylan’s Dream” for the remainder of this page. Various keywords in the next few paragraphs will sync up perfectly with certain moments in the song. It’ll be like watching The Wizard of Oz while listening to Dark Side of the Moon.

  Anyway, the song just seems to sum up everything about hope, and youth, and closet-size apartments where friends come over and hang out, and you have a few drinks and laugh, and everything is, for the most part, swell. Sure, later on there’ll be the the awkward 3 a.m. conversation when you try to decide if your buddy is too drunk to make it home on his own. You’ll feel guilty if he gets hurt, of course, but at the same time, your studio is tiny, and you’re a light sleeper, and you’d really rather not listen to somebody snore or cough all damn night.

  But back to the album: Dylan’s pictured on the cover, walking through the Village, and if you go there today, you can sense that some seriously neat stuff happened there. Maya Angelou and Jack Kerouac and Allen Ginsberg were around, doing their things, and you can almost physically feel it. It’s pretty great.

  At the same time, the Village these days is mostly just a bunch of American Apparels and Starbuckses. And there are these NO STANDING and NO HONKING signs, even though standing around and honking is sort of what made Bob Dylan famous in the first place.

  PROS: Bob Dylan once walked these streets.

  CONS: He’s gotten a better apartment, probably, since then.

  CONCLUSION: If only we could’ve been here forty years ago.

  THE NEW YORKER

  Full disclosure: We both subscribe. What can we say? It’s a good magazine, okay? It’s funny and interesting and, if you actually live in New York, it’ll tell you all the important cultural stuff you should see and do, if you happen to be interested in important cultural stuff.

  And if you don’t live in the Big Apple, the New Yorker offers cultural events that you can enjoy at home, inside your own head, through the magic of reading! That’s right, week after week, you can dive into a droll David Sedaris romp or have your brain rearranged by a counterintuitive think-piece from Malcolm Gladwell. It’s like having a really great conversation with some well-spoken friends, except none of them give a shit about what you have to say. Delightful!

  Fuller disclosure: Sometimes we just skip to the “Shouts and Murmurs” section, read all the comics, and call it a day. Then we leave the magazine on the coffee table to sit and marinate in its brainy juices, in hopes that someone will see it and think we’re smarter than we actually are. They’ll see that easily identifiable logo-type on the cover and know exactly what they’re dealing with, here: brains, class, and panache.

  PROS: Insightful essays, sharp satire, fictitious fiction.

  CONS: The pile of unread issues is stressing us out.

  CONCLUSION: If they offered a half-price, just-for-show coffee table edition that was just a cover and a hundred blank pages, honestly, we’d probably buy that instead.

  CHOOSE YOUR OWN “HILARIOUS” NEW YORKER CAPTION

  1 “Excuse me, sir. Theres a fly in my soup, and he’s wearing a bowtie.”

  2 “Does anyone know how long Ive been in this restaurant? It feels like years. Where are all the clocks? Who are you? WHO AM I?”

  3 “Dinner was fantastic, but the company stinks!”

  4 “Excuse me, sir. I think theres a small salamander in my wine goblet.”

  5 “Im from the future.”

  SNOW

  Nothing quite compares to the twinkle of snow falling under New York street lamps at twilight.1 It’s a gentle reminder that, even in the heart of the big city, there’s always the possibility of something fresh and pure and beautiful. You’ll honestly feel like you’re walking around in your very own romantic comedy and that, despite your gender and sexual preference, John Cusack is definitely about to sweep you off your feet.

  On the other hand, in a few hours, all that snow is going to turn into dirty, nasty slush, which is way deeper than it looks, and will inevitably soak through your shoes and socks.

  Snow is a lot like Jodie Sweetin, in that respect. One second, she’s playing adorable little Stephanie Tanner on television’s Full House. Next thing you know, she’s addicted to meth.

  Yes, snow is sort of like that.

  PROS: Natural beauty.

  CONS: The moment you get home and you take off your shoes and socks, you realize the bottoms of your pant legs are all wet and freezing, and you just want to cry.

  CONCLUSION: Bring your galoshes?

  SNOW: A CHRONOLOGY

  FRESHLY FALLEN FIVE MINUTES LATER

  Oh, magic! Oh, sweet wonder! This is the absolute worst.

  * * *

  1. For a nice visual, consult your handy Thomas Kinkade “Painter of Light” daily calendar.

  SEX AND THE CITY

  First of all, let it be said that neither of us has ever seen an episode of this show. Undaunted, we bought some tickets for the Sex and the City Hotspots Tour.

  After boarding the bus at the corner of 5th Avenue at 59th Street, we walked down the aisle, hoping that we wouldn’t be the only men in attendance. There was, thankfully, a gentleman sitting near the back. We exchanged silent, knowing looks. “We’re only here as a goof!” we tried to indicate. “Don’t worry, boys. We’re in this thing together,” his eyes reassured.

  It turned out that he was the driver, and we were the only unpaid dudes in a bus full of moms, most of them seemingly tipsy from midmorning Cosmos. In theory, this is awesome. In practice, we’ve never felt so alone. As we took our seats, the tour guide announced over the mic that we’d have to fill in for Mr. Big today. We didn’t know what that meant—we still don’t—but the oversexed mom-giggles that echoed through that bus have haunted us ever since.

  The tour took us to Sex and the City locations all over Manhattan. Obviously, a lot of it was lost on us, but we tried to join in. We ooohed at a boutique where someone named Charlotte bought shoes. We aaahed at a boutique where someone named Miranda bought more shoes. We forced laughter
at a video clip of Carrie making a lot of terrible, self-satisfied puns.

  Mostly we were just very happy to have a nice, clean, warm place to sit for a few hours. Sometimes, in New York, a little thing like that can really make your day.

  PROS: The bus was very comfortable.

  CONS: All the moms laughed at us.

  CONCLUSION: Maybe we’ll watch season one and see how things go.

  THE SEX AND THE CITY TOUR, AS SEEN FROM SPACE

  CLOCKWISE:

  This is the “gallery” where one character “worked.”

  Four actresses pretended to have a lengthy conversation here.

  Remember the hilarious thing that one actress did right here? Ho ho!

  This is the restroom stop, if anyone needs it.

  Over here’s the café where one of the actresses pretended to break up with one of the actors, presumably because they weren’t having enough sex in the city. Wink.

  Mmm! Two characters ate delicious cupcakes, right here! In reality, when the cameras cut, the actresses spat their cupcakes into a bucket.

  WALL STREET

  Q. What’s that guy screaming about?

  A. Stocks!

  Q. Why’s that lady in the pantsuit chain-smoking?

  A. She’s stressed!

  Q. What was that collective groan just now?

  A. A billionaire just sneezed and sent the market tumbling!

  Q. Who works here?

  A. Guys who look like the main villain in The Karate Kid!

  Q. How does it all work?

  A. Magic!

  PROS: Wealth, as far as the eye can see!

  CONS: None of it is real!

  CONCLUSION: We’ll put our money in a nice safety-deposit box, thank you very much.

  CAN YOU FIND ALL THE HIDDEN STACKS OF CASH?

  Some silly hedge fund manager has taken all of your cash and hidden it around this Wall Street statue! Can you find it all? Either way, you cant have it back. Sorry!

  UNITED NATIONS

  Since its inception in 1945, the UN has been committed to improving human rights, fostering communication between nations, enforcing international law, and creating world peace. At least, that’s what it said on the bookmark we stole from the gift shop.

  And, honestly, we wanted to enjoy the UN. We really did. We’re the last guys to bash diplomacy. But they were trying to charge us sixteen dollars for a tour! Each! Who are we, Bill and Melinda Gates? “WE’RE NOT MADE OF MONEY, BAN KI-MOON!!,” we hollered. We’re pretty sure that, wherever he was, UN Secretary General Ban Ki-Moon heard us, somehow. That’s one of his Moon-powers: super-hearing.

  So we didn’t go on the tour, per se, but we’re fine with that, because we decided to create a tour of our own, which was shorter, cheaper, and took place entirely in the UN café. Here are our findings:

  1. They didn’t accept debit or credit cards. That’s right, at the time of our visit, the UN café was cash only. Isn’t swiping a Visa card a lot easier than converting rupees to dollars, or convincing some brutal dictator to take a day off, or whatever? On the other hand, maybe they’re trying to teach debtor nations (i.e.: us) not to over-rely on credit. If so, mission accomplished.1

  2. The guy working behind the counter didn’t say “Have a nice day” to us until after we said “Have a nice day” to him. Look, this is basic customer service, people! You’d think that to work at the United Nations your minimum job requirement would be to say “Have a nice day” to everyone. Who knows what kind of ambassadors and dignitaries you’re going to be serving in there? Like we’ve always said: World peace begins in the café.

  3. There’s no way of knowing for sure, but we’re relatively sure the guy restocking the pastries was Boutros Boutros-Ghali.

  PROS: Probably doing great work; facilities seem top-notch from the lobby.

  CONS: What’s with the charging for everything? Can’t the poor experience unity too?

  CONCLUSION: Room for improvement.

  SIDEBAR: A THING WE ATE!

  This is a photograph of a muffin that we purchased in the café of the United Nations. It was a little dry, but we ate it because we were hungry, and we are not picky. This is proof that we will eat most things. This picture was taken after the second bite, but rest assured: We finished that muffin. Thanks, UN café!

  * * *

  1. We just Googled it and it looks like they’ve finally started taking plastic. Debtors, rejoice!

  NEW YORK BAGELS

  Everyone’s got at least one friend who just loves New York bagels. He can’t stand any other bagels. Won’t touch them. Any time anybody’s eating another state’s bagel, he launches into his trademarked NY Bagel Supremacy Rant.

  “If there were an Olympics for bagels,” he says, “New York bagels would win gold every time. They’d win at the bagel luge, and the bagel curling, and the bagel rhythmic gymnastics, with little gymnastics-ribbon-wands sticking out of their doughy little bagel holes!” And there’s this really weird glimmer in his eye when he says “bagel holes” that makes you wonder if he might have, at some point, attempted human-bagel relations.

  The point is: When people told us New York’s got the best bagels, we were a little skeptical. So we went to all the places that everyone recommended in New York: Ess-a-Bagel, H&H Bagels, Bagel Hole, and a bevy of other bagelries. And they were all good! We never had a bad bagel in New York.

  But, then again, neither of us could recall ever having a really bad bagel, anywhere, ever. We both just really like bagels. They’re cheap, and you can put all kinds of stuff on them, and eat them with one hand while walking, without even paying attention! So, yes, New York’s got good bagels. But that’s like saying one particular ATM gives out the best twenties. Everybody loves twenties, okay? Some twenties may be older, foldier, or chewier, but they’ll get the job done, and we’re happy to have them around.

  PROS: Delicious.

  CONS: Just tone down the hubris a little.

  CONCLUSION: In 2009, and this is totally true, the best-selling bagels in America—with more than half of the market share—were made by Bimbo Bakeries, whose parent company, Grupo Bimbo, is based in Mexico.

  CAN YOU MATCH EACH BAGEL WITH ITS PLACE OF ORIGIN?

  ANSWER: NO. NO, YOU CANT.

  CHINATOWN

  To capture our ambivalence about Chinatown, we decided to create a brand-new hilarious parody song, sung to the tune of Petula Clark’s “Downtown.” Look out, Weird Al. We’re coming for your job and your wife, in that order.

  “My wife?” you say? Yes. Your wife too, Al. Weird Wife Yankovic is coming with us. Get this straight: There are two new comedy songsters in the comedy-song-racket and we’re both getting “Weird” legally placed in front of our names. That’s how committed we are to this lifestyle. And your career? Well, it’s like that one guy said to Jack Nicholson at the end of whatever movie they were in together: “Forget it, Jake. It’s Chinatown.” (You’re Jake, here, Yankovic. Was that clear?)

  For sale in Chinatown: inside-out ducks and right-side out SpongeBobs.

  “CHINATOWN” (SUNG TO THE TUNE OF “DOWNTOWN”)

  Where can you go to find some four-dollar glasses and a SpongeBob shirt? CHINATOWN!

  Where there’s wallets and snow globes and some key chains and daggers and a SpongeBob skirt?

  CHINATOWN!

  Wander through the streets and you’ll be lost within an hour.

  Luckily you’ll find some tasty chow mein to devour.

  How can you lose?

  There’s so much you can get for a buck!

  Just look in that window, there’s an inside-out duck! It’s in:

  CHINATOWN! The sidewalks are crowded in:

  CHINATOWN! The mung beans are sprouted in:

  CHINATOWN! Everything’s waiting for you!

  And by “everything,” we mean, “delicious food and an overwhelming array of inexpensive plastic whatsits that we’re not sure anyone needs.” Maybe if they were slightly more expensive and less di
sposable it’d be better for everyone, but really now, who’s to blame here? The vendors selling this stuff or us, standing here with a plastic bag full of sixty-cent dish scrubbers and bootlegged DVDs of Steel Magnolias? We’ll just sit down and have some mu shu pork and think this through…

  BROADWAY

  Have you ever been around a cat? Like, have you ever really spent a significant amount of time watching a cat walk around and meow and throw up on your rug? You have? Okay. Good. Listen to this idea: We’re going to find, like, thirty people—full grown adults, okay?—who are going to put on unitards and face paint and sing and prance around for, like, an hour and a half, pretending to be cats! And people will pay seventy dollars apiece to see it. Or more! Never less. Mostly, more.

  Hmm.

  To be fair, there are other shows on Broadway that don’t feature people dressed up as singing cats.1 The Lion King has people dressed up as all sorts of other singing animals! Including singing lions. Which are totally different from singing cats!

  PROS: Raw emotion. Showmanship. Unitards.

  CONS: The stench of lost dignity and catnip.

  CONCLUSION: Meeouch?