03.30.08
How do you like them Applebee’s?
Ah, spring! Finally, warm weather is starting to return to the city. Okay, if not warm weather (Hello, 29 degrees, I’m looking at you!), at least more sunshine…and, with it, unfortunately, comes the obligatory rise in the number of tourists.
The one good thing about winter in Manhattan, is that it’s all but deserted. You can make your way around without bumping into a billion people with their cameras, standing stock still in the middle of the sidewalk. Yes, even Times Square isn’t that bad in January. It feels like “my city,” like home, like some place where I go to work, buy my groceries, and gripe about my bills. Not that I begrudge NYC its tourist revenue, because I don’t. It’s nice that people come here and spend their money. Brilliant for the local economy. It’s just annoying for the local residents to boot.
So, yeah, kvetching about the tourist population is sort of the natural right of a New Yorker. It’s what we do: roll our eyes at the people who don’t pass to the right, giggle at people who don’t know their way around, and mutter under our breath whenever possible. Actually, above our breath whenever possible, too. (overheardinnewyork anyone?)
But I witnessed a rather amusing moment of anti-tourist, or perhaps Manhattan-centric, snobbery last night. Picture it, a group of four, upwardly mobile friends in their late 20s-early 30s standing around complaining about the ridiculous line at the Times Square Applebee’s. ”I can’t believe it,” eyerolled the lone girl in the group. ”Why, when you have so many options in Manhattan, would you go to an…*ugh* Applebee’s?”
Some clucking and commiserating and obligatory “tourists!” sneering followed.
The funny?
This conversation took place in the cramped Dave & Buster’s gift shop.
Let he who is not patronizing a national chain cast the first stone! I’m pretty sure that when you’re in a place that’s basically Chuck-E-Cheese for grownups, standing in front of a display of shot glasses and giving a withering look to the girl who is actually trying to look at the merchandise, you lose any right to criticize whoever might be going to an Applebee’s.
Ten to one they live in Williamsburg.
And, yes, I rather happily ate dinner at Ruby Tuesday’s last night AND went to Dave & Buster’s. That, my friends, was a damn good night in New York City. You don’t have to be a tourist to appreciate a little familiarity and family fun.
03.15.08
WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Ah, the mating call of the drunken frat boy and smashed sorority girl; how I’ve missed it. Only not so much.
Living above several establishments of the bar/pub variety, I am used to varying levels of “whooooooo!” and “whoo-hoo” around 1 or 2 in the morning on a Thursday or Friday. It’s part of the ambiance, holds a certain comfort, and can even provide entertainment on a night where you can’t sleep. I have fond memories of an instance where some poor shmuck was trying to calm down his obviously drunk-off-her-ass batshit crazy girlfriend, who wouldn’t quit cussing and screaming. I live several floors up, but every “Baby, they’re calling the cops!” and “I don’t f—-g care! Screw you!” was broadcast in Surround Sound. Hi. Larious.
So, yes, I’m used to a certain amount of noise. But imagine my surprise when there was “whoo-hoo”-ing at 3:30 this afternoon. It’s a little early for that sort of thing, isn’t it? And yet, there they were, intermittent “whoooooooooo”s. When I finally ventured downstairs to run a few errands, I found the source… and, for a moment, thought I had stepped back in time.
A large throng of college-age drunken revelers in green T-shirts, green leis, and green hats was staging a pre-St. Patrick’s Day pub crawl! Yes, despite them being illegal in New York City. Yes, despite the fact that a roving crowd THAT BIG is not subtle at all. All of a sudden, I felt like I was back on High Street in Oxford during that oh-so-memorable holiday known as Green Beer Day. Celebrated on March 13 this year, it’s an illustrious student-driven holiday. A time-honored tradition to counteract the fact that St. Paddy’s always falls during MU’s spring break, it’s a day when Oxford’s bars rake in their biggest revenue… and Miami University’s professors have their biggest headache.
On GBD, uptown Oxford is a veritable orgy of green dye, witty t-shirts and “whoooooooo”-ing. Today, so is my neighborhood! It was nearly impossible to navigate the sidewalk, the crosswalks were terrifying… what with the potential for boozin’ Biff and his buddy Chip to get splattered on the pavement ala Frogger… and it’s just annoying. Let’s face it, two people screaming at each other on the sidewalk at 2 a.m. is one thing. Several groups of twenty-five wandering through at half hour intervals over the course of an entire afternoon and evening…? Could drive a gal to drink.
Beware the Ides of March INDEED.
03.05.08
Obama/American People/Clinton = OT3*?
A friend and i were kvetching about the New York and Ohio primaries last night, when I opined, “Barack Obama’s campaign is kinda…scary.” “Keep in mind I voted for Obama,” warned my friend immediately. Ouch. So, I leapt to try and explain what i meant without destroying our friendship beyond repair, and then quickly changed the subject to smutty fan fiction (a classic diversionary tactic, what can I say?). But later, it occurred to me what I was actually trying to articulate, and failed miserably at, is that Barack Obama has a fandom.
Fandom, for those just tuning into the concept, has been around for as long as anything that can HAVE one has existed. I’m sure there was cave painter fandom back in the prehistoric day. It’s a term that denotes not just the people, but the creative content (fan fiction, fan art, videos) and social climate that comes from liking a specific thing. And what I find amazing is that politics, just like Stargate: Atlantis, has fandom. It inspires the same kind of dynamics as a TV show or comic book or your favorite anima or manga. There are ’shippers (worshippers or relationshippers), there are canon purists, there are people looking for the One True Pairing (OTP). There are people who don’t forget a detail of what’s happened in the past and constantly bring up that time in season six where Hillary’s husband cheated on her with that intern (OMG!) and others who think Barack and Hillary should just give in to their UST and get on the same ticket.
Politics now inspires rabid fanboying and fangirling. On some level, it always has (see above note re: cave painters; I’m sure Og the head caveman had fans, too), but I think what’s interesting about the Obama campaign is how it feeds in to the fan philosophy in a way that no other candidacy has before (except maybe John F. Kennedy, which is something Team Obama has actually pointed out and utilized). Obama is a rock star; he’s Captain Kirk or Dr. McDreamy. More than the issues at hand, the nuts and bolts of his platform, is the phenemenon, the Obamamania. It’s intense. It’s like me during Veronica Mars season two. Woebetide anyone who dissed my girl. And I see that same fierce fervor in today’s political arena.
And I don’t know why I’m surprised. Over the past few years, with the advent of shows like The Daily Show and The Colbert Report, the line between political news and entertainment has been heavily blurred. Political satire has always existed, in print and on TV and radio, but this is different. This is more accessible. This is not just talking heads with poli sci degrees sitting around snarking. It’s comedians. It’s politicians interacting with a medium designed to entertain, to make an audience laugh, and comedians using real issues in a way that actually effects social change. I mean, people watch Jon Stewart for “real news,” something that he himself has expressed bewilderment over in the past. But that’s our political universe now…a place where fannish pursuits and more serious ones intersect, a place where Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert and Tucker Carlson are all just as much characters in fan fiction as Buffy or Sydney Bristow (and why anyone would want to write fan fiction about Tucker Carlson, I really don’t know). Even that bastion of social networking, facebook, has groups for Clinton and Obama that declare “I am a fan of…” As if being politically active is akin to having a Hillary pillowcase that you kiss goodnight and posters of her hanging next to New Kids on the Block and the Coreys.
It’s, as Mr. Spock might say, fascinating.
And, yes, a little scary.
Now if you don’t mind, I’ll be over here in the corner writing my epic alternate universe story where John McCain and Obama are gay lovers running mates…
*’OT3′ means ‘one true threesome.’ Take from that what you will.
You can’t have a necromancer without “romance.”
I finished No Humans Involved, by Kelley Armstrong last night, and I was very, very happy with it. In a literary era where even the whisper of “urban fantasy” fiction makes my skin crawl and the bile rise in my throat, I’ve come to only rely on two specific authors, Armstrong and Kim Harrison, for my paranormal needs. Harrison actually broke her streak for me with her last book, For a Few Demons More, just because I feel like she went in a direction she didn’t need to go (though it wasn’t, say, Laurell K. Hamilton levels of suck) so I approached No Humans Involved with a bit of wariness. I need not have worried! Armstrong has not lost her touch, or her gift for unique female voices.
I had a dopey smile on my face while reading the bulk of Jaime Vegas’ story. I was reading it during the commercial breaks of Idol and One Tree Hill and even took it to bed with me to finish. I think what I love most about The Women of the Otherworld books is that Armstrong is SO good at not only world-building, but creating unique female characters. Jaime is not Paige is not Elena is not Savannah is not Eve. They each have different personalities, different levels of appeal. And I love the guys in her universe, too. Clay, Lucas, Adam, Kristof…and, in this particular book, Jeremy, are all wonderful, strong, badass guys who do not mind having an equally strong woman in their lives. Though, oddly enough, in No Humans Involved, Jaime shows an envy of Elena and her like and seems to undervalue her own abilities for a lot of the book and constantly apologize to Jeremy for having to protect her. But much of the book is about them both coming to terms with Jaime’s innate strengths and Jeremy’s own issues with playing protector, so those issues within Jaime get worked out.
It was tightly written, with a great, freaky, mystery and good supporting characters, as well as the return of some old favorites. And I LOVED the Jaime/Jeremy attraction finally taking front and center stage after simmering quietly for several books. I loved seeing Jeremy emerge as this very real, sexy, rounded character and not just a benevolent father figure to the Pack. I loved Jaime taking control in the relationship and making him work for it now that he finally caught up and realized he wants her. It was gloriously hot to see them connect, even if their major love scene had some hinky staging issues that had me rereading and scratching my head.
At any rate, yay. It’s been a while since I read a book that satisfied me this much. So kudos to Kelley Armstrong for restoring my faith in books about things that go bump in the night.
