Bucket List - Week 3

Saturday will mark my ONE MONTH period of living the life of a Fun & Fearless young New Yorker... uh shhhwhattt?? 1 month? Time. Flies. That being said, I'm still absolutely amazed by all that one can see (and hasn't seen!) in the city in under 4 short weeks.

So on to the point... here's what went down the past week -- and I keep saying this, but I PROMISE I'll get a hang of posting more than once a week. New York has a strange way of making you want to slam the laptop screen shut and just run out the door (rather see it, than read about it, right?).

And for the record, I've done so much I can't even think of it all off the top of my head -- I have to start backtracking through the million (okay 198) FB photos I just uploaded. FB friends, appreciate. That was like a 4-hour feat. Tagging photos and writing captions could literally be a full time job for someone... hey wait -- I need money. Any one need a photo tagger? Sorry. Rambling.

OKAY. Back on topic. Bucket List Week 3:

47) Eat a world-famous cupcake at Magnolia

A sweet tooth succumbs to the sugary goodies in this city, big time. Tantalizing aromas of warm milk chocolate fill your nostrils as you walk by cake and frosting filled bakeries, only for a few seconds though -- then its back to the foul stench of garbage and urine, um, yum? But regardless ... the short, sweet smell is enough to make you want to pop in and try the most raved and ravished about treats. Now, I was told I had to go to Magnolia Bakery, and despite I heard it was overrated, I still needed to see for myself.

It's actually funny how I came across this cute, corner shop in Greenwich Village. Jenny and I were out on our daily adventure (the goal was to conquer the Meatpacking District, but neighborhood boundary lines blur quite easily and we took a wrong turn into the Village. We heard a commotion down the street and like the curious, budding journalists we are, naturally we had to see what was up. Four bright red fire engines and scours of NYC firefighters (Heeellloooo Mr. February! Is that you?!) swarmed the streets as flocks of passerby (mostly locals for once) chimed into the commotion.

As our prying eyes finally determined there wasn't much to see, and just as we're about to turn away, oh lookie! Right there in front of us! How could we miss it? The navy and white sign above a little brick shop: The Magnolia Bakery. Knowing that it's on my Fun & Fearless list, I turned to Jenny and squeaked, "Magnolia's!" Enough said.

*A quick aside: It really is SO funny how much you stumble upon in this city. It's like on every block there's something new waiting to be discovered.

Two seconds later (thank you supposed fire, the usual 10-minute line out the door was displaced -- they must have been gawking in the street, too) we were in the door. Approximately 3 minutes later -- it took a little time to decide on the PERFECT cupcake -- I was biting into a chocolate cupcake concoction. Overall rating: 3 Stars. Good, fatty icing. Slightly dry cake for my liking. A wee bit pricey (alas, thats NY). But in the end, fairly delish none-the-less. Next bakery to devour: Crumbs.

34) Visit Ground Zero and say a prayer.

Trying to get some exercise in -- putting my new Reebok EasyTones to work! -- Jenny and I skedaddled through the rest of Greenwich, down through SoHo (South of Houston) and TriBeCa (Triangle Beneath Canal) and back home into the Financial District. Usually I don't make it over to the west side of the FD, but as we were walking I noticed a bunch of construction. Ground Zero, I thought. I snuck up to the big blue barrier and peeked inside -- Wow. Were the Twin Towers really that small: This space seems so tiny? Was this really where it all happened? Silly tourist. At least Jenny knew a little better. Nope, wasn't it. Just another block under construction in NYC, typical.

One street down and one corner turned: There it was. No doubt this time. The numbers 9 & 11 were plastered to the sides of looming, bright blue boards that encompassed and blocked out all view of the site from the ground. In the evening skyline cranes of all sizes were halted in mid-air. A symbol of patriotism, the American Flag -- my flag -- flapped in the cool summer breeze that also prickled over every inch of my exposed skin, drawing it tight into tingling goose-bumps. But it wasn't the wind that gave me chills.

I stood in awe at the site where American life as we know it changed.

Rewind. I remember leaving school early that fateful September morning, all the teachers were in a panic. CNN was plastered to my old boxy TV set all day; I was a seventh grader and I hated the news -- but you can bet I was watching it then. Smoke. Debris. Chaos. That's what filled the Financial District. Chaos filled the world.

Fast Forward. People are still hustling around me as I stand at the street corner looking up, but they're in no actual hurry. There's no more smoke. No more debris. No real sign that anything happened here other than the small notes mentioning the new 9/11 Tribute Memorial to come. It looks like any old construction site -- like when the new Busch was being built in STL. But the chills remind you -- there's no celebration here. And there won't ever be.

It was eerie, yet prideful. All at the same time. A complete whirlwind of emotions if I've ever felt one. I believe it's a feeling all Americans should experience in their lifetimes.

"Fading light dims the sight,

And a star gems the sky, gleaming bright.

From afar drawing nigh -- Falls the night.

"Day is done, gone the sun,

From the lake, from the hills, from the sky.

All is well, safely rest, God is nigh.

"Then good night, peaceful night,

Till the light of the dawn shineth bright,

God is near, do not fear -- Friend, good night."

- Taps, General Daniel Butterfield

33) Spend a day trying to talk with a New York accent.

I want a New York accent SO bad you don't even understand. I don't know what it is about it that I just absolutely love. Maybe it's just my desire to immerse myself in New York culture and achieve ultimate NYC status: a local. Hopefully one day an Upper East Sider local. But for now... local will do. I spent all night out talking to various people in my makeshift wannabe accent, and surprisingly, nobody called me out on it (although people tell me a lot that I'm too friendly -- a dead giveaway that I'm a Mid-Western -- wah wah). And the funny thing is, after a little active trying, it actually kind of stuck. Little things I say during the day will sound slightly New York-ish. "I love my Cawfee." "I'm awn my way to tha Awffice." "Drop me awff at Jawn (John) Street." And by the end of the night, I had almost convinced myself I had it down... ehh or so I thought I did. My best friend Jen will tell you all about it.

15) Get into VIP at a club.

The Meatpacking District is where the real ritzy night life is at in NYC. And it doesn't disappoint if you're looking to get real dolled up like the good ol' Mizzou girls do. But it comes at a cost. Price ranges I've seen for a single well drink range from $9 - $18. On a Thursday night at Big 12 in CoMo, that would buy me, eh, roughly 9 - 18 TRIPLE well drinks. And generally you won't find college boys here. This is where the men come out to play. It's totally Sex and the City-esque. Young, pretty women and slightly older, richer men (ehh we'll say probably like 26+ in age).

SEA. Little West 12th Street. This is where we met Steve from Brooklyn -- talk about SATC, right?! As we patiently waited in the long basement lines, he politely taps us on the shoulders and asks if we'd like to join him for bottle service upstairs. Free. Of. Charge. VIP rooms in NYC are exactly what you'd expect. Hot girls, swanky lounge decorations -- did I mention the seating upstairs was a compilation of Tempurpedic Mattresses? Oh yes. Private DJ. And bottles of vodka served up however you want it, poured to you by Steve and friends. THANKS GUYS -- we heart our new friends.

38) Sit on the steps at the Met like Blair Waldorf.

Seriously, what a gorgeous building. The Met is set in Museum Mile in the Upper East Side on 5th Ave. It's backdrop, the ever-beautiful landscape of mid-Central Park.

It's forefront, the glorious apartment buildings of NYC's most wealthy inhabitants.

It's stairways, covered in flocks of tourists munching on hot dogs, casually reading a book and old men carrying signs saying, "Will you date me!?" -- okay, well, one old man I guess.

We didn't get a chance to go in since our aching feet were swelling under the extensive journey we had taken to get there. We literally walked up and down avenues and streets and Central Park pathways all the way from 42nd Street (Times Square) to 82nd Street. Here's an example, if it were just a straight-shot walk -- which even still is quite far:

So we all took a break to rest our callused soles and blistered toes (Cute imagery, I know. At least I won't show you them!) and hung out on the steps of the Met. Let's just say it was so Blair Waldorf.




50) Find the Balto statue in Central Park.

We totally passed him on our way up through Central Park, so after leaving the Met we had to backtrack our way to find him. Allie was the first to spot him through the throngs of passerby in the park. Slightly impatiently, we waited our turn to take a photo with our fine four-legged friend Balto! Totes worth it.



43) Try a new Tasti D-Lite flavor every week.

This week: Moose Tracks. Location: SoHo. (The first was Times Square and I missed the 2nd -- woops! I'll do a make up double try week!) Yum, yum, yum.

There's so much more to share, but it's a work night, and alas, I am quite tired. It's time to put the Fun & Fearlessness to bed for tonight. More to come about Week 3 -- Not on the list, but still awesome and NYC Street Fashion -- Is there such a thing as what-not-to-wear here?

Ciao Bellas.

Bucket List - Week 2

Week 2 was just as exciting as Week 1. There's just so much to do and see in this city, it's like sensory overload! The running joke I have with my friends right now is that every day I'll pick one avenue to walk all the way up from the tip of the Financial District all the way up past Midtown. It's amazing how if you walk just one block over, there's an entirely different experience from the previous. Insane.

35) Walk across the Brooklyn Bridge.

Roomie Morgan needed to find out where her office was in Brooklyn, so like we do with any necessary trip here: we made an adventure out of it. We hopped the 3 to High Street in Brooklyn and wandered down the streets. I was surprised how quaint the neighborhood was... BK def gets a bad connotation. So after we located the office (which is seriously sweet might I add) we headed off in the direction of the Brooklyn Bridge to walk all the way back to our apartment. If there's one thing you need to take away from this blog it's this: DO NOT WALK IN THE BIKER LANE! They WILL yell at you until you realize there is a walker only and a biker only lane.






8) Meet a celebrity.

I met my all-time idol this past week... the Editor-In-Chief for an extremely prestigious women's magazine. I walked up, introduced myself and tried not to let her see I was nearly shaking the whole time we talked. It's a moment I'll always replay in my head for sure.

16) Order a Cosmopolitan and a Martini instead of a vodka tonic or Bud Light.

Planning in this city never seems to work very well. So when we planned for a casual night out to a martini bar in Murray Hill, well, that didn't work out quite as planned. Our martini bar seemed to be more of a sports bar and grill from a street glance. Thus, we turned around and walked next door, to a more quaint and complacent venue: Choice Kitchen & Cocktails. So, we propped ourselves up at the bar ... and then comes Roger. Roger has to be one of the most entertaining bartenders I've ever met. He talked all about his aspirations to be a dancer (and how he had to switch back to rum & diet, after the 'tending gig started going to his gut) and about his baseball league at the park and how he does pirouettes when he lands on base *cue snap and prance here* and about how he met Lady Gaga one night at a bar nearby (of course the pic was his phone BG) ... so in short: Roger is awesome, we got his number and hopefully soon we will be accompanying him to visit Splash -- a gay club. I. CAN'T. WAIT.

54) Hang out in Union Square and people watch for an afternoon.

People watching might just be one of my favorite city pastimes. I love just posting up and viewing all the characters bustling by. There's the obvious tourists (which I must admit, I probs fall under this category a lot of the time), there's the hipsters, the NYU students, the fashionistas, the park grazers, the street performers, the beggars ... etc. So Jenny and I enjoyed a lunch (pizza of course!) near Union Square. We especially enjoyed the visor-capped woman with the pink and blue dread-lock looking hair. But alas, that is New York. The beauty of it here is that you can dress and act nearly however you want, without stares... with the exception of the previously stated. That, I can't lie, did stand out.

And a few other things that weren't on the list, but still did anyway:

Washington Square Park.

(YES... I am wearing my Reebok Reetones with a dress... another blog to come on acceptable NYC footwear.)

A trip to South Beach on Staten Island.

Shopping in SoHo.

(Note: hot model with sunscreen on his nose standing out front in his swim trunks.)

In honor of Marissa... I believe you are a Kate Spade fan, if I am correct.

Thank you American Apparel for providing the sorority with so many V-neck Tees.

I just needed a photo because it's a store with an abreve name. Awesome.

And still so much more to see! Until next time....

xoxo,

Schall

How do you like your sanity served?

Drinks are so personalized in New York. It's not just coffee; everyone calls it "my coffee." My morning coffee. My Starbucks coffee. I love my coffee. - Sarah Protzman, Standing Room Only: Two Years in New York City

Unfortunately, the aforementioned quote is paraphrased. Her words are much more influential than the fragments of sentences I can remember from the book I read (in this cute little gardened square across the street from my building) for class last week. But alas, like the smart college student I (hopefully) am ... instead of buying the book for myself, I borrowed a copy from a friend in class and read it all hours before our discussion on it.

Regardless... I hope my point still comes across.

So this has got me thinking, in a city that is SO detached, so void of certain personal interactions (a smile on the street, playing with your puppy, a love affair with your highest pair of heels), that it is so funny how much endearment you take to your beverages of choice in New York City.

Let's begin.

My coffee back in Missouri comes from Starbucks. Always Starbucks. Student charge at Memorial or rather if I'm stuck in the J-School buildings (which is usually the case) then the 9th Street Starbucks. Tall, white mocha, nonfat, no whip. And on some days, let's make it a double. Okay and when I REALLY don't want to "pay" for it when I'm near downtown... I'll very seldom pop into the JCafe, which I must admit can make a fairly dece Mocha Latte. Still no whip.

In NYC, the options for coffee (pronounced caw-fee) are endless. There's a Starbucks on almost every corner or cute little cafe nooks littered everywhere between the forever-reaching strips of shopping (to be mentioned in a-whole-nother blog post). The point is: cawfee in this city is like the breakfast, lunch (and ... ehh... maybe not so much dinner -- that's a different drink to be mentioned shortly) of champions.

So, my cawfee in NYC. Well, that depends on the day of the week. I'm still a Starbucks girl through and through. And lucky for me, NYC has not failed me on proximity of the nearest sanctuary. I have an SBUX (as it refers to many times on my bank statements) no more than 500 feet from my building ... which if you haven't seen yet... looks like this:

Oh yes... the construction is quite lovely. And since I have yet to go into detail about my new neighborhood (the Financial District) here's a quick aside of nearby attractions for your enjoyment:

Good Burger.

Tiffany & Co. Flagship.

New York Stock Exchange.

Staten Island Ferry.

Battery Park.

Really cool architecture.

Wall Street.

The Iron Horse - a slightly questionable bar.

South Street Seaport.

Hope you enjoyed the montage... that's only VERY few snapshots of what's nearby. Now back to our local programming:

Okay, so my cawfee depends on the day of the week. Saturday - Tuesday = my SBUX cawfee. No doubt about it. I try not to go every day... but as my friends have learned here -- I'm kind of like the "Don't talk to me until I've had my cawfee" McDonald's guy.

Now Wednesday - Friday: my office cawfee. There's like 8 different kinds, and every type of cream/ milk possible to add in the fridge nearby. And the best part about my office cawfee: it's free. Another (Central) perk about it: morning cawfee chatter.

See, the cawfee machine at the office is like hmm... how do I put this... Switzerland. It's neutral territory. It's in the dead center-most part of the office, and when you're in front of the cawfee machine, time stands still for a few minutes. You choose your cawfee packet, load up the machine, fill up with your desired creamery and sugar, and chat with co-workers. You don't worry about the day full of work ahead, or what story you need to start on next. You simply gossip about SATC2 reviews or what you did last weekend.

So that's just the morning and afternoon favorite slurps of the city. And trust me, if you really want to put New York in shambles, I think all you'd have to do would be to remove cawfee from the city, and soon everyone would go mad.

Another thing that better not go missing: booze. Now, I don't want to sound like an alcky, so hear me out. All I'm saying is that New Yorkers LOVE their Happy Hour. And Happy Hour is generally from 4 - 8. Anytime after that... we'll you better buck up. Happy Hour is so prevalent in this city, that many employers have taken to the term "Summer Friday." See... "Summer Fridays" are a common practice where the workplace closes down by 3 - 3:30 on a Friday. Workers gather together to do God knows what, but mainly, enjoy a Happy Hour with their friends and colleagues.

I thought I understood the reasoning of people talking about "my get home from work beer" but let's be honest... nope I didn't. It wasn't until the look I saw on my roommate Morgan's face, as she came home from work to find me sitting on my bed in my tight pencil skirt, computer on my lap, Bud Light bottle balanced on my bed post, that I realized ... whoa. NOW I understand. Now I need "my get home from work beer."

So whether it be in a good ol' cup of joe, a mid-evening cocktail or SATC-esque night on the town ... I now know how New Yorkers make it through the day. Even if we have no personal connection to the thousands of sneakers we gaze at while rushing to the Subway, there is still some sort of connection here we all feel to at least one thing -- we can all agree -- we love that little ounce of sanity served up in every cup of our cawfees and our cawktails.

Gathering groceries

"There are roughly three New Yorks. There is, first, the New York of the man or woman who was born here, who takes the city for granted and accepts its size and its turbulence as natural and inevitable. Second, there is the New York of the commuter--the city that is devoured by locusts each day and spat out each night. Third, there is the New York of the person who was born somewhere else and came to New York in quest of something. Of these three trembling cities the greatest is the last--the city of final destination, the city that is a goal. It is this third city that accounts for New York's high-strung disposition, its poetical deportment, its dedication to the arts, and its incomparable achievements." - E.B. White, Here is New York

Though Mr. White's observant description describes New Yorkers in the 1940s, it's strangely similar to the characters I see bustling down Manhattan streets in suits and sneakers today. It's funny because in only one short week (on contrary ... a New York minute truly is a whole different passing of time) I've already encountered the three types of New Yorkers. Myself and friends of course being the third.


Upon the initial excitement of working in New York at my dream job, I thought my goal was to succeed at work, to have fun in the city, and to never look back. While these might still be my goals .. I'm already seeing things in a new light (but that could just be all the flashing ads I see everywhere).

Moving to New York isn't only about an education and having fun in the city. It's about achieving a greater goal: a goal of self-actualization. I've always been a huge psychology buff; in fact, had I not chosen journalism as a career, I would be a psychiatrist. And I have to say, Maslow knows his stuff.

A for instance for you:

Friday I did my first-ever grocery shopping. Not just the "Oh-I'm-In-Panama-City-Let's-Stock-The-Fridge-With-Pizza-Rolls-And-Booze" or the "Hmm-I-Hate-Jodi's-Chicken-Nights-At-The-Sorority-So-I-Think-I'll-Buy-A-$5-Footlong" ... but seriously legit "Oh-Em-Gee-I-Have-To-Make-Real-Meals-For-Myself-Now-Because-Mom-And-Jodi-Aren't-Here" grocery shopping.

And let me tell you, grocery shopping in NYC is not that fun. I used to love frequenting the grocery store as a child. I got so excited for my fruit roll-ups that I'd open the box while still sitting in the shopping cart, and my mom would have to pay for an already opened box at checkout. "Uhhh.. you know that box is open? Do you want a different one?" "Oh no, my daughter was hungry." Fast forward 15 years... WHAT!? $5 for a loaf of bread!? I have to CARRY my groceries back to my apartment?! After an EXHAUSTING day at work? No help from mom? No car trunk? Talk about a wake up call.

So being the thinkers we are, my roomies (Allie & Morgan) and I decided to be smart poor New Yorkers. We hitched a ride on the 3 Train to Brooklyn. It was like a smorgasbord roaming the food aisle at the local Brooklyn Target... "Missouri prices! Hallelujah!" So I (double)bagged up my Target brand wheat bread, carton of soy milk (70 calories!) and a small stack of Lean Cuisine dinners and smiled at the receipt -- only $50. In this city, not too shabby.

Proudly we walked down Atlantic Avenue, beaming at our ability to gather the glorious food in our hands, and hopped back on the 2 to Fulton Street.



It's really, really ridiculous to say I felt proud and self-sufficient for buying my own groceries, I know. But it occurred to me then somewhere between my resting my aching feet and stocking our meager portions into the fridge (seriously, I now understand why New Yorkers are so skinny!) that I truly was proud of myself for my independence.




I've known many a St. Louisians who are more than content in staying in our little bubble in the Midwest. You couldn't get them to move away for anything. I get it, it's safe and it's easy. But you know what, here I am. Away in a city completely unknown, far in proximity from streets I grew up on, making my first baby steps at becoming a successful New Yorker.

Laugh... I know... I sound like a complete ruh-tard, but hear me out -- maybe even something as simple as your first time making your own meals (or creating a makeshift dinner table out of a clothing dresser) can truly be self actualizing.


It's that first small step in the quest -- to join the ranks of the accomplished in the big city and say, "Yep. I'm a New Yorker. Maybe not born and raised. Maybe not an east coast commuter. But still a New Yorker -- a title earned after a little hard work and a lot of worn-out pairs of shoes."