I don’t know how I failed to mention that I saw Parker Posey filming yesterday in the Village. For my Generation Y readers – you know who you are – Parker Posey is a very funny actress from the late 80’s early 90’s made famous for her roles in “Dazed and Confused”, “You’ve Got Mail”, and “Best in Show”, but her classic role was the DQ waitress in “Waiting for Guffman”. She’s one of my favorites, so it was cool to see her. 1000 points!
If you don’t know the NYC Celebrity game, it’s 1000 points for anyone famous, 3000 points for an Oscar winner, and 5000 points for Sarah Jessica Parker. You have to spot the celebrity “off duty”, in other words, it doesn’t count if you see them in a concert or in the Macy’s parade. And although the rule used to be that someone else has to be there to confirm your sighting, I may change that rule – we're too old to care enough to cheat. You can tally both your per trip and lifetime totals. I’ve seen SJP twice, so I’m doing pretty well on the lifetime.
Ok, so today I awoke to a very rainy morning. I went for a long run in the rain, and decided that jogging along the Hudson smells about as bad as running along Rock Creek.
After a shower, the rain was coming down pretty hard. Luckily, Nickel, the man spa, is right across the street, so I had a massage and a facial. I’d never had a facial before and it hurt like bloody hell. The conversation with my aesthetician went something like this:
“Is it supposed to make we want to die?”
“Beauty is painful”
“I don’t want to be beautiful, so will you please let me go?”
“If I stop now, half of your face will be clean and the other half will be full of toxins.”
Actually, now that I think of it, it was my second facial. My first one was in Cambodia, and that didn't go well either. We men need to appreciate ladies’ efforts for us more … between facials and waxing, they really suffer to look good. Me, I’m too much of a sissy to be a metrosexual … no more facials for Ken.
After my torture treatment, I mean, relaxing morning at the spa, the sun was out in full force, so I took off on foot with the Mac in tow. First stop: lunch.
Now it takes a lot of courage to walk into a diner in Chelsea called “Bone Lick Park”, but I could see plenty of normal looking people sitting outside, and the “all you can drink Bloody Marys” sign, combined with the smell of barbeque, lured me in. My plate of fried oysters, scrambled eggs, cheese grits and collard greens was simple and delicious. The place was filled with genuine antique fixtures including bar stools and ceramic light fixtures from the 40’s, and an impressive 20-foot neon Coca-Cola sign from a defunct bottler.
On a sadder note, I regret to report that Manhattan is filled with brand-new cigarette smokers. Everywhere you look you see young people holding their cigs with stiff fingers in an akward V and the tell-tale puffing of white, billowy smoke that proves they aren’t inhaling. I guess NOT smoking was so cool for a while that this is the new backlash against the old backlash. Whatever. Just so long as they never learn to inhale or bring them inside public places.
Next, I strolled across Washington Square Park and listened to three college dudes playing old New Orleans jazz: a trumpet, clarinet and banjo. They were really good and were making a fortune in tips. New York is so full of extraordinary talent that even the poor street musicians are virtuosos. Well, not all of them ... earlier I passed a homeless guy in his early 20s playing spoons and singing Sesame Street songs.
I ended up at THINK Coffee on Mercer Street by NYU. Though annoyed by the obnoxious slogan, “Think Fair Trade. Think Organic. Think Shade Grown,” the coffee shop is well designed and cozy with beautiful wood beams and marble-topped tables and bar. It was packed with students, but I scored a perfect seat right in front of the sunny window overlooking the street. The lovely grad student sitting next to me asked me to watch her stuff for a few minutes, so when she returned I used the opportunity to get some human interaction:
“While I was 'thinking shade grown', someone rummaged through your purse.”
“Did they take anything?”
“Just a lipstick and some tic tacs.”
“I don’t wear lipstick and I chew gum.”
“Then you should be fine.”
She was attractive and smart, but WAY too into her masters studies in some sort of anti-male feminist political stuff. I smiled and nodded for about 20 minutes before a phone call on my cell rescued me and she went back to work.
I hopped on the subway to the Upper West Side for the 7pm service at Redeemer Pres. Tim Keller was in typical top-notch form and the jazz band leading the worship was really impressive. After the service, I chatted with some folks about IJM and then came back downtown for dinner at Wild Ginger, a fantastic, inexpensive Thai place just off 7th Avenue.
Then home to bed. Funny, if I’m tired enough, even a crack den feels like home.
I'm really proud to be a part of International Justice Mission. This month marks my sixth anniversary with IJM, during which time it has grown from about 15 people to over 280 US and national staff in eleven offices all over the world.
