No, you cannot interrupt my precious work out

My friend Kathryn is a semi-professional Yogi and lately has been telling me about the unnecessary behavior of her fellow classmates.  Smacking gum crassly in a serene studio, belching loudly in the middle of a downward dog, organic moans during a full wheel pose- all forbidden interferences while attempting to become one with your inner self.  I take a group class here or there and have found not only excess noise as a disruption, but also the general population's inability to follow a beat.  Growing up as a dancer, I am versed in the practice of a congregation of individuals collectively moving as one.  I completely understand that not everyone has had formal training nor is going to a class for any other reason than good ol' fun exercise.  Though this is the case, I would like to consider asking all gyms to require at least partial rhythm as a prerequisite to entering the room's threshold.

Nothing ruins a workout more than when class has begun, there's a good flow of energy in the room, and WHAM!  there's that random person who walks in 10 minutes late, not only looking surprised that there's no where left to stand, but also creating a ruckus while attempting to collect a mat, body bar, and various free weights to participate in the proceedings.  This person can never find a space on the perimeter of the room so they meander their way into the middle, (somewhere closer to you, nonetheless), laying their mat down inches from where valuable floor territory has already been claimed.  20 minutes into the 45 minute class they are finally ready to synchronize with the others; though they try their darnedest to step onto their right, hop on their left, and spin around quickly, they remain 4 counts behind the music for the remainder of the course.  No sooner does the latecomer get on track when you notice the flailer that has been in the front corner of the room all along.  This person is legitimately making up their own moves with no regard for the instructor's direction or the downbeat of the music.  You then realize you were thankful for the distraction of the latecomer; personally, I'd much rather watch somebody catch up in the race with some sort of uniformity than flutter aimlessly until they reach the finish line.  Sorry flailer, if I was the one checking rhythm and comprehension skills at the door, you would have found yourself on a stationary bike far away from the group exercise room.

No, you cannot force your pet to support gay pride

It's Gay Pride week here in the Big Apple, which is basically an enormous outdoor party that gives anyone in the LGBT club free reign to act a fool in public while wearing 60% less clothing than usual.  I happen to live in Chelsea, the epicenter of these shenanigans, which year after year forces me to either stay in my apartment all day or take the chance of over stimulation by rainbow-colored things accosting my eyes. With the passing of the same-sex marriage law this week in NY the party grew to immense proportions, causing every Tom, Dick, and Harry (or is it Harry Ann?)  to come out in support. 

While walking in the West Village from brunch the day before the parade extravaganza, my friends and I noticed a small group of people stopped in the middle of the sidewalk staring into an apartment window.  Sitting in the window was a white cat straight out of a Fancy Feast commercial wearing a gay pride-inspired jester collar, complete with tiny bells, around her neck.  She was staring at the passerby's with a look of utter disdain, sitting so still I would have thought it was a statue if not for the assumption  that nobody would actually buy such a ridiculous window ornament.  Personally, I'm not a big fan of cats but after surveying the annoyance being fired out of every pore of this miserable animal's body I actually felt a little bad for her.  It's one thing if you want to support gay pride week by donning rainbow apparel and belting the YMCA at the top of your lungs, but it's a whole other ball game if you get your helpless animal involved who has no formidable opinion  on the matter.  Unless you've seen your cat batting for the other team with the neighbor's feline out in the alley, I think it's best to leave her out of it.

No, you cannot groom yourself in public

Brushing hair while walking down the street, painting fingernails in bars, even picking a wedgie or two- all personal things I've seen performed in public that can be dismissed as semi-passable.   Then there are the things you should only do in the confines of your own home.  Take for instance the time I was riding the Long Island Rail Road when I heard a faint snipping sound coming from a few rows in front of me.  After craning my neck into the aisle to figure out what it was, I was appalled to find a woman clipping. her. toenails.  Not only was she clipping those suckers off, she was letting them fall right onto the floor to mix in with the other various articles of filth.

My friend Alex stumbled into her own unsanitary situation on her flight to New York this morning.  Being sequestered on a plane for over an hour with no sign of take-off leads one to look for alternate forms of entertainment.  While searching for something more interesting than the Sky Magazine stuffed into the seat pocket in front of her, she noticed that her neighbor had too decided to find a distraction.  Compact mirror in hand, this woman took to shaping her eyebrows with a pair of tweezers, all while buckled as the seat belt light was still on.  Listen, nobody wants to see signs of a unibrow but there is a time and a place for erratic tweezing and a seat 5 inches away from a place that I cannot escape from is not that place.

No, you cannot solicit something as free that is already free

Sunday was a gorgeous day in New York, all the better to partake in outdoor activities.  My roommate and I decided to take a leisurely bike ride in Central Park (which is actually not so leisurely towards the hills around 106th street.)  About half way through our 2nd lap we decided it was time for a mandatory margarita break.  We sat on a terrace in the park, listening to some random man play a piano covered in aluminum foil while sipping on our overpriced limey libations when we noticed a woman with a sign that read 'Free Hugs'.  Although her poster offered a complimentary cuddle it seemed no one was taking her up on the proposition.  Even her friend/manager sat down in defeat as the scheming to get innocent park-goers to hug a jovial, sweaty woman only proved to be done in vain.  You have to give her kudos for being such a good samaritan, though I don't think any sane person is going to give or receive hugs from strangers in this city when it will more than likely lead to a mean case of bed bugs.  No time for hugging lady, my 2-hour bike rental is up and the awkwardness of this situation is far too inevitable.

No, you cannot use my AC unit as your brothel

Living in close quarters in New York City you come to expect various unavoidable disturbances.  For example, the grocery store aisles are never wide enough, you have to fight for a washing machine every time at the laundry mat, and you get to know far too much about the guy next to you on the subway.  Yes, you may even expect to hear your neighbors through the paper thins walls, but that's where I draw the line.  While watching a movie in my apartment one night, my roommate and I heard a strange cooing noise that was far too close for comfort.  We've heard this noise before yet it sounded like there was a pigeon about to come straight through our living room window.  Upon further investigation we deducted that the pigeon MUST be stuck in the window AC unit.  Since that did not seem logical, we ran to another window facing the unit to get a better look.

That's when we saw it.  There was not one pigeon. There were two. And to stay they were stuck is an understatement.  Soon the cooing turned into a full-blown mating session- wings flapping, feathers flying in a wildly choreographed rumpus on the window ledge below our air conditioner.  While leaning into the alley out the12-inch wide bathroom window we were able to secure photographic evidence of the culprits in action. If you see these menacing detriments to society, stare at them disapprovingly while they continue their walk of shame around the city.  Just because it's currently pigeon mating season doesn't mean you can utilize our space for your antics. Sorry pigeons, we pay a lot of money to live in this apartment and if you choose to shack up here, we'll have to start charging you rent.

No, you cannot casually sport a fur costume

While making my way north on Broadway like a baby salmon swimming upstream against an unpredictable current, a furry creature caught my eye.  You don't see many of those in NYC unless they are on four legs and a leash, but this was quite a different case.  It took a moment for my brain to comprehend what was coming towards me; I fully anticipate this sort of spectacle in Times Square where the occasional knock-off Elmo or Mickey are on hand for a photo op, but not when strolling the narrow streets of SoHo.  Better just to show you what I saw...

A typical New York scene- police barricades, road work, hoards of people... and a Care Bear.  Not just any Care Bear, mind you, but TenderHeart, the one with the large heart on its belly.  Even as a semi-seasoned New Yorker I couldn't help but stop dead in my tracks and watch as the character made his way into stores, greeting patrons for what seemed no reason.  He wasn't asking for money, he wasn't performing, and he certainly wasn't doing the Care Bear stare (don't even pretend like you don't know what that is, you totally had the VHS tape.)  I decided to do a little research on this six-foot teddy and boy does he get around...

TenderHeart has been all over this great city and clearly has no shame.  Google image search confirms that he has volunteered at charity events, gone sightseeing with the best of them, and even snagged a girlfriend while on rendezvous in Coney Island.  TenderHeart, if you're reading this- I suppose Disney World isn't the only place where normal people and furry costume people can walk amongst each other nonchalantly, but last time I checked I didn't have a fanny pack on or a turkey leg in hand so please use your magical rainbow to return to a theme park from 1986.  Thanks.

No, you cannot allow your child to run amuck

I do not have children but if I did I would make a conscious effort to ensure they remain as germ-free as possible.  My roommate, like any sane person, feels the same way so when she saw this scene go down in the train station yesterday she knew there would be immediate entry to my blog.

"I was waiting for the train when my thoughts were disrupted by a rambunctious little boy, no more than 5 years old, flailing around in the middle of the station.  Of course when you see a child by themselves in public, your first reaction is to look for the responsible party.  After scanning the crowd of rushing travelers, mindless tourists, and bums asking for change, the only logical choice was a woman standing a few feet away staring at the train schedule, though she did not seem at all concerned with the boy's actions.  I figured I should stick around to see how this played out, considering my other options were to also stare at the train schedule or make nice with the bums.  

First, the boy practiced his worm which resembled more of a beached whale, but kudos for his effort.  Then, he seemed to get a little tired, laying his head on the floor for a quick nap. (Don't worry, the woman is still facing the other direction.)  At this point I knew I was working with some great material and started snapping photos of his 20-minute acrobatic act.  As if this child has not yet contracted some sort of disease that comes with wallowing on a floor filled with parasites from the streets of New York, he felt the sudden urge to lick the floor.  Yes, LICK.  As I held back my impending vomit, the woman finally turned around and caught him in the act.  Though this warranted some sort of disciplinary action, the woman decided not to douse the boy right then and there with as much antibacterial hand sanitizer she could find, but rather that it was simply time to go- she took him by the hand and walked towards their train.   I'm sure being responsible for a child with endless energy allows for the occasional slip-up.  Excuses aside, if this was my child, I would still be sitting in the emergency room waiting for his tongue to be bleached."