My New Apartment

As I sit in my new apartment, the windows letting in a nice unfamiliar breeze, the birds chirp and the sound of children playing, horns honking and the trees rustling in the wind-- make me glad to be out of my confined asylum I use to call an apartment. It's strange how things play out in the scheme of things and I never anticipated moving 3 times in 3 months. It's taken a lot of adjustment and a lot energy to haul your life from Florida to New York and then from apartment to apartment, up 4 flights of stairs and a car ride loading and unloading your belongings. Despite it all I'm happy to be where I am now. I can already sense the relief of having my own place minus the regulation and sly remarks. The situation is better and I'm really looking forward to getting this place all set up the way I want it. That said-- I have absolutely nothing! There are no pots, pans, or plates. I do have a bed though, so there is an upside to it all. In the two months that I'll be completing July 8th-- the only thing I've managed to accumulate is two night stand tables and more clothes for work. Other than that-- I'm starting pretty much from scratch with the whole apartment items. However, this luxury affords me the chance to invest in some things that I've been wanting for a while now. Once everything gets settled-- and I get at least a few more checks-- I fully intend on buying a flat screen, flat panel LCD 720p television and accompanying surround sound system. It's a staple in any man's apartment. With all the change that has been going in the last couple of months living in New York-- I've realized that I'm officially doing this all on my own. No help from the parents. It's strange-- and exciting to know that I can afford to pay my rent, utilities and manage my own money without having to rely on calling for more. At times, it's a bit of a challenge and it takes discipline not to go out and blow it all on that t.v., but I make up for it by going out and having a good time (such as last night). Interestingly enough I never wanted last night to turn out the way it did. I was only going to have dinner with my buddy Chris from London and maybe a few beers before meeting up with my favorite person in the world Tami ;). We checked out this really fantastic sports bar with the best burger I've had (sober) in NY. The place as called Pour House on 11th and 3rd ave. Aside from the good burgers, they had a wide selection of beers and more t.v.'s than Best Buy. As we waited for Tami and her girls to show up to the city (they live in Long Island)-- we knocked back a few brewskies. We met up with them and were going to go to this "hoppin" bar called Joshua's Pub, but the line was unnecessarily long, so we opted for the place next door. It was your typical NY bar with low lighting, modern couches, red accent lighting, thumping music blasting as the videos play on the flat screen t.v.'s etc. etc. etc. We immediately jump into a round of SoCo and Lime shots and order some gin and tonics. As a working man it's nice to afford to treat your good mates once in a while to a couple of drinks. The gesture undoubtedly gets repaid. Needless to say, Chris, Tami, her friend and I were out for a good time, as we began order shots of Patron (which even just typing it makes me cringe a bit inside) and Jueger. A couple gin and tonics later I am wasted, but perhaps the most interesting (or annoying depending on who you ask) thing about last night is the amount of UF people I ran into that I knew. Most of which lived in my building back in Campus Lodge, so it was primarily AEPhi girls... all of which are nice enough to pretend like they know me (because we did living the same building and I did date one of their sisters) but really could give two shits. Quite frankly-- neither do I. It's just nice to see what I'm not missing anymore about Gainesville. I did happen upon one old friend (who spotted me from across the bar) who was stopping in NY before her flight to Rome to study abroad-- Emily. She was awesome to run into and looks great. She was never one of the typical bitchy sorority girls. I also ran into my friend Ali from UF who will be starting law school in the fall, and whose sister I studied abroad with and Chris also knew. Small world or popular bar? I can't say which.  

The Best Of...

I'm always thinking...as I imagine most of you are... about everything. The past. The future. Rarely the present, but recently during one of my morning showers I decided it would be fun to sort of see what I consider my favorite things about New York to be in the early stages of my residency in the city. In no particular order I will list some of the things I've found to be gems in this mine of a city.

• My favorite bar to sip an expensive cocktail: PDT (Lower East Side)
• My best bar to chill at: Hop's Devil (8th and Ave. A)
• My favorite drink to order: Gin & Tonic
• My favorite bar for a beer: The Perfect Pint (Midtown)
• My favorite park to lounge in: Bryant Park
• My favorite part of town: Between W4 and Canal Street on Broadway.
• The best train ride: The 'Q' Train crossing the Manhattan Bridge
• The best tourist spot: Battery Park staring at the Statue of Liberty
• The most convenient subway stop: Union Square
• The best hot dog: Crif Dog's "Chihuahua" (wrapped in Bacon, fried and topped with avocado and cream cheese)
• The best drunk food: Burger joint next to Iggy's on Ludlow and Stanton whose name I can't remember obviously
• My favorite breakfast spot: Le Bagel Delight (Brooklyn)
• My favorite park for a jog: Fort Greene (Brooklyn)
• The best pizza I've had: Little Italy Pizza (42nd near 5th Ave- Midtown)
• The best view of Brooklyn Bridge: South Street Seaport
• Best clothing store not found anywhere else: UniQlo (Soho)
• The best street fair: Park Slope's 7th Ave.
• The nicest weekend getaway in the city: Caroll Gardens (Brooklyn)
• My favorite unique bar with a good vibe: Union Hall (Union St. just before 5th)
• My favorite tourist comment: "That's the Empire state building!" as they point to the Chrysler building.
• Best word puzzles: USA Today Sudoku
• Favorite subway reading material: AM New York
• Newspaper I check daily: The New York Post
• The best cheesecake: Junior's (Brooklyn)
• The best place to feel like a young professional: Grand Central Terminal amidst all the real honchos of corporate New York.
• Moment I realized I was no longer a visitor: When a tourist from Barcelona asked me if I spoke Spanish and then asked me for directions.
• The best cab ride: Flying over the Manhattan Bridge with the window down...feeling like I'm skiing (just two weeks ago.)
• Best B-list "celebrity" spotting: Jimmy Fallon wannabe from the show "30 Rock"
• Best museum I've visited: MoMA (they have Andy Warhol's)
• The best part about summer: Free concerts every Friday morning from Good Morning America and Today shows.
• My favorite place to get lost: SoHo
• Best place to escape the city: Central Park (you could seriously get lost)
• Best place for a gourmet "buffet" style lunch: Dishes (Midtown)
• Favorite pricy lunch spot: Cinema (Midtown)
• Best magazine to check out city happenings: Time Out New York
• My favorite sandwich from a restaurant: Ham & Cheese w/ Pear on Cranberry bread from 'Wich Craft (Bryant Park).
• The best way to get around: an Unlimited MetroCard
• My favorite part of the work week: Alternating the gym and yoga every other day
• The best place to avoid because of tourists: Times Square
• The best chain restaurant: Europa Cafe
• The best thing about my new apartment: My room and separate "office" space I fully intend to turn into a lounge.
• My favorite thing about my new apartment: Having whoever I want stay over when I want.
• The best feeling in the morning: Getting to the subway platform just as the train is approaching.
• My favorite day: Pay Days

My favorite thing about New York: The endless amount of things I have left to do!!

Getting all Daper

I've recently been getting a lot of acknowledgement (more so than usual) about my blog entries from my friends and I gotta tell ya it's pretty exciting to know that people are reading (let alone interested) in what I am doing and what I have to say (albeit somethings may get boring). I've been more consciously trying to capture the New York experience (through my eyes) as best as possible-- after all that was the intention of my blog to begin with. So-- thank you for your readership. I appreciate it more than you know.

If you've ever visited New York, which most of you have (and even if you haven't), I am sure you have an image in your head of what it means to work on 5th Ave., Midtown, Wall Street and Manhattan in general. For me, it meant men and women dressed in suits, large Blackberry telephones, shiny shoes, black socks, briefcases and taxi cabs. The past two days I've spent fitting this image while attending a conference here in New York. I got all decked out in the suit and tie schpeel (granted I only own one suit I needed to rotate shirts and ties). I've been told to invest in another 3 suits by fall... is this going to be common place? It's likely and the idea kind of excitements. I use to think the idea of getting all spiffed up in a suit was silly-- but for some reason (within the confines of the city) a certain confidence and swagger comes with wearing a suit and tie. It says-- I'm important and I have places to go, people to see and E-mails to reply to. Then I thought-- well anyone could wear a suit and tie and walk around the city and not have anywhere to go, no people to meet or E-mails marked urgent. Wouldn't it be funny if someone got all dressed up one day they felt particularly down on themselves and just walked around Midtown pretending they were some important executive? Now, for nearly everyone except for me-- that would work. I felt as though people on the subway thought I was going to a bar mitzuah or was on my way to church at 7 a.m.-- not work. I joke, but I really wonder what they are thinking.

The conference the past two days was for the Newspaper Association of America-- a client of ours. At the conference, newspaper corporations and their CEOs, COOs, and CFOs were scheduled to present their year-to-year projections and answer questions from prominent analysts. It was my chance to see the big guys battle in their arena. On one side you have the confident business CEO with the half-mocking sense of humor that reaks of wealth and on the other you have the sophisticated, hard-ass, no-nonsense analysts frantically checking their Blackberry's every minute (this is no exaggeration-- everyone had one and checked them in sync with their breathing).

Perhaps the best insight I gained from the experience was that I was actually in a room of really powerful people. I was amidst CEOs that earn millions (maybe billions?) of dollars to do what exactly? They really just seemed like faces on the corporations they represented-- think the logo of a brand. Granted this perspective may be a little naive and they may very well be entitled to the incomprehensible amounts of cash deposited into their bank accounts, but its just easier to picture them with their feet kicked up on their desk and not having a care in the world whether or not the company succeeds-- their still getting paid. This is a completely unrealistic look, but it's my blog [insert malicious laugh here].

So here's what I learned from all of this "rubbing elbows" with the CEOs. I use the term lightly as there really wasn't much communication between myself and the others there. I was there as a spectator and offer help to our client by taking charge of the microphone for questions. Nevertheless, the experience is worthy of documentation. In this city where it's been said time and time again..."If you can make it here, you can make it anywhere." Never has it rung so true to me as the last two days. This city is made up of ambitious, career-driven, smart and well-polished individuals all out to get the same thing you want...money (and to some degree power). So how do you stand out? How do you succeed in a city where it's so easy to just blend in and get lost in the crowd? More than anything I've come to realize that in order to get far in your industry (whatever it may be) you really have to be willing to put your ego and fears aside and lunge for it. The hesitation the resides within the bottomless pit of your stomach should never overpower the voice inside your head that says "go for it."

In general, people often steer clear of people who speak their minds or lack the little chip that tells them something just shouldn't be said. The "censor chip" if you will. I think-- lacking that reservation, that apprehension, that worry of where something may take you-- is admirable and almost necessary to survive in this urban jungle. I think you really do need to step up your game in this city and I say this because in the past two days the opportunity to further my career presented itself, but I shied away from it. This is what I've learned... and I've said it before. New York is a dog-eat-dog city. You either bite or get biten because chances are there is someone right behind you just as eager or more qualified than you to do your job-- but if you find it within yourself to persevere... this city is unbelieveable.

I Now Have A Usual

My weekends have quickly acquired a usual routine-- that feels nothing much like a routine except in that it's become habitat to enjoy outtings with good friends and even better cocktails. I suppose in college (which still sounds strange to say) I longed for weekends comprised of social outtings in sophisticated, swanky bars that boast overpriced cocktails...and by the looks and sounds of preceding entries I've come a long way from the sweatfests I once looked forward to in 80s nights at XS. Gator City really is Gator-shitty.

Last Thursday (June 14) I celebrated my one-month in the working world. It's flown by much quicker than I could imagine or remember. I suppose it's the consistent busyness of being in a new city, the acclamation to a new role and the need to take it all in one day at a time. My anniversary was coinsided with a colleagues departure to Duke's MBA program. He had been with the company for 4 years and decided to pursue high education (me in 4 years??). We celebrated by taking over a posh bar on Park Avenue named the SilverLeaf Tavern. The place in all its decadence was typical of a lounge with oversized mohagony furniture and pricey cocktails-- but price has little bearing when it's going on the corporate card. The outting brought a large crowd of office dwellers--and a fantastic opportunity to get to know my co-workers in a setting the solicits casual (perhaps borderline inappropriate) converational and a glimpse into their personal lives (whether intentional or not). I tend to get a little overzealous when I know I am not paying for my drinks-- hence my rapid intoxication at the company event (I'm still blaming it on the fact that I did not eat dinner). Perhaps the best relevation that occurred was my acquisition of a "usual" at bars around the city.

"I'll have a gin and tonic" has become this weekends motto. While not a stretch, creative or pretentious by any standards I've come to appreciate a well contrived mixture of gin and tonic water with a lime wedge. Contrary to my belief-- not all gin and tonics are created equal. A well mixed gin and tonic can do the job well, while tasting pleasant (a rarity in drinking for me considering I find liquior to taste awful). Perhaps pacing is my biggest fallback when it comes to drinking with my peers. I got hammered with my superiors, however the act seems tolerated and expected of a few individuals as I've been told the Christmas party usually leaves a few with some embarrassing stories to tell. Not to mention the CFO was ordering everyone shots of Patron tequila (x2). It got blurry. The most impressive thought of the evening, however, was the tab that read more like someone's rent ($1700). We followed the drinks with some fine dining (all on the company). In true London tradition we started early (6 p.m.) and ended early (12:30 a.m.). One of the night's occurrences that dawned on my yesterday (Sunday) was that as I crossed a cross walk (DRUnk) a taxi cab cut in front of me and as it made its way in front I tapped playfully on the trunk of the car (as my co-workers warned me not to do that--as it appeared what my intents were). This act prompted the cab driver to halt the car (mid street) and get out. He began yelling at me: "Why the fuck you knocking on my car-- what's your problem." In which my co-workers stepped in to explain my belligerance and New York inexperience. I was ushered into the restaurant because it appeared the driver wanted to attack me. That was embarrassing come to think of it and I can't believe I remembered that 3 days later.

New York has a way of keeping you fit despite your desire to actually be proactive. My down time has been spent-- spending my paycheck. I decided to treat myself to a luxury item (a Jack Spade backpack) with my first sum of money that did not go to bills. This made me realize that I cannot continue splurging on fine items to entertain me on the weekends and I've therefore succumbed to the $89/month gym membership at New York Sports Clubs. Fortunately, there is a gym on every corner (possibly just as convenient as a Starbucks in this city). I've said it to myself many times before-- I will stick with it, but this time my motivation stems far beyond my inner desire to gain some weight...it's costing me a pretty penny to be a part of the gym (and my frugal side will make my ass work out). In a recent conversation with my friend, CJ, I realized that while we do a lot of maturing and personal growth in college-- it isn't until after college that you really begin to develop your true persona. I've begun asking myself where all my time and energy has gone into these last couple of years? I mean-- I don't have a hobby, sport or activity that I particularly excel in...so what have I been doing? This has prompted me to dabble in new activities in the last couple of months (i.e. rockclimbing, yoga) until I can find something that I can call my own. Something I find entertaining, relaxing and that I can excel in.

This weekend I've also come to appreciate those friends I can immediately fall into a friendship with even after so many years, months or days apart. It makes me appreciate the fact that I have made some really great connections with people throughout the last couple of years. In particular I had two of my friends from my semester in London visit with hopes of moving to NYC next month. It was as though we hadn't spend an entire year apart since we left London--but rather had seen eachother just last week. The same goes with friends from high school (MA and DB).

So, this weekend I learned that while you make think you've hit this ceiling of entertainment, knowledge and activity-- you've only really begun discovering the possibilities. I think I'll try painting or learn to play the guitar.

A Good Attitude

Ever since I started working in New York I've quickly realized the pleasure of coming home and not having to deal or worry about much of anything. There are no assignments to be handed in, papers to be written or tests to study for. There's no required reading or group presentations (as of yet) to prepare. Therefore, I've found that upon exiting the office at 5:30 (usually) I have the next 5 1/2 hours (until I go to bed at 11 p.m.) to myself. Lately, it's given me a lot of time to reflect attention on myself because while I know a lot of people in the city (both old and new) it is difficult to coordinate something when everyone is on their own schedules (we're all working now a days). So, because I spend a lot of time thinking I've really become interested in meditation and the practice. I've started reading a book entitled "Zen Mind, Beginner's Mind" by Shunryu Suzuki, which speaks of the practice of sitting in zazen (the lotus position) and allowing your mind to clear itself. As of lately...I'm merely reading about it and have not put it into practice.

Along the same lines, I've decided that I needed to take on some hobbies to occupy my spare time. It is not enough to come home after work and take a nap (otherwise my routine gets messed up). So, because gym memberships are $100 a month (no thanks)-- I've turned to an alternative style of exercise that incorporates both my new interest in meditation and my need for physical development-- yoga. I only started a week ago going to a donation based studio(where I can pay as little as $1 to go to a class) in the Lower East Side. I've never been one for sitting in silence, dripping of sweat from every part of my body (even parts I never knew could sweat) and actually enjoying it. The practice is much more physically demanding than I ever envisioned and honestly appears at first glance. The feeling afterwards, however, is like nothing I could begin to describe. Essentially, it's an hour of my night where I am able to detox from my day. I don't think about anything but the task at hand (often some kind of stretch that tests my balance and patience). The real practice comes in the controlling of your breath, which until now I've never realized the importance (as silly as that sounds) of breathing fully and heavily. We typically have a tendency to breathe shallowly (without thought)-- try actively thinking about your breathing for 3 minutes as you read this -- filling your lungs and letting it out slowly. You'll notice a difference. In the 3 sessions that I've attended this yoga class I've noticed a huge difference in so many areas of my day-to-day life. For instance, I've actually become more toned (and found to be sore) after doing a few of the classes. I've also been sleeping a lot better and feel well rested in the mornings (no need for coffee). I've also been able to relax a lot more without having any worries taint my thoughts. It feels good to escape your life and focus on yourself for a least an hour of my day...we never do that-- as much as we like to think we try. I recently came across an article online that said a study was conducted on people who chose to participate in yoga and those who took leisure time to read (in order to unwind). The study found that yoga could lower stress, anxiety and depression (not that I'm depressed--haha).

So here's what I've come to learn from all of this...there is a direct correlation (relationship) between your attitude and many branches of your day-to-day life. A good attitude definitely influences your work (at your job), your relationships (with your significant others) and your body (warding off sickness). I believe that remaining positive also brings a lot of good into your journey-- and I never believed in that before. I was never a believer in 'things happening for a reason' or 'good things happen to good people' (or is it bad things?), but considering the unraveling of events between March (when I dreamt of moving to New York) to June (where I am living in New York) the cards all seemed to fall exactly where they should have-- no questions asked. Can I attribute that to luck? or a good attitude? Something I learned in a business class was that "Luck is when preparation meets opportunity." If I was lucky-- it's because I had been preparing for this my entire life and the opportunity fit. But, I gotta tell ya there's nothing like a downward facing dog to get you thinking about (or not thinking) about how far you've come and have left to go.

Yesterday's Lesson

Often at work you find some down time (hence writing this entry) to perhaps converse with Co-Workers via AIM. Today, a Co-Worker of mine asked me a question I believe few ask ourselves and seldom take the time to contemplate in our otherwise "hectic" lives (which aren't so hectic).

"What did you learn today?"

If you were to take the 2 seconds it takes to ask yourself this question and really think about your answer-- I think you'd be surprised at the response you come up with. I think one of the many awesome things about being young and living is the endless lessons we learn each day that carry on into our futures making up our characters. It's realizing the lessons that really help us strengthen those characters and build personas that may withstand any test down the line. Can you learn to appreciate those lessons now, so that later down the line you don't say to your grand kids "If I could go back...and known what I know now...I'd do it this way." It's not about avoiding regret, but embracing that you will flub many times. It's how you look at your flub that says a lot about where you're headed. Do you stay down and hope no one saw? Or do you get back up and run it off, perhaps glance back to see what you tripped on and realize it happens to the best of us?

The lesson I learned yesterday was this: I learned that if I really want to succeed in my life (career and personally) I need to really engage in the activities (and people) I deal with. I've found that a lot of my past has been about getting myself to the next level without appreciating the steps I took to get there. I realized after work that I kind of myself going through the motions rather than actually trying to comprehend what it is that I am doing in the bigger scheme of things. I don't want that to be my role at work or in life. I have a lot of aspirations for myself, and I really feel like the only way I'll succeed is becoming good at what I do. My grandpa always tells me before I hang up the phone with him..."Be the Best" and I think I should really start. There's always room for being better. I'm grateful for where I am..believe me...it feels fantastic, but I'm extremely driven and I enjoy out doing myself. Funny thing is no one puts pressure on me-- I do it for myself. I have this image of where I want to be later in life (as everyone), and I know it's going to take work, but won't happen unless I continue to push myself. it's like working out. I believe there is a difference between being "hard on yourself" and "driven." I believe being "hard on yourself" implies that there is this stressful, almost burdening feeling to accomplish something, whereas "driven" implies taking the set backs and pushing forward despite adversity.

Pretty deep for Monday lesson-- huh?

Please Don't Tell

The title of this post seems relevant on so many accounts of recent happenings. As of Friday June 8, 2007 I have been living in New York for one month and I gotta tell you that time has flown by faster than I could have ever imagined. I'm going into my 5th week of work, I'm still visiting parts of the city that I haven't seen and I'm slowly adapting to the lifestyle of a Big City young professional.




(Bronx Zoo with Michelle- May 2007)



Everyone has a New York story to tell. You know, the tale they tell about their move to the city where it typically consists of a rat infested apartment, some kind of robbery or the roommate from hell. Well, if I had my pick I'd gladly take door No. 3 and as it turns out I've chosen correctly. Moving to New York I didn't have the misfortune of having to hunt down an apartment on Craigslist, hire a broker or crash on a couch for a month before getting my footing.


(Andy Warhol- Museum of Modern Art)


I was fortunate to fall into a space with a good friend from high school (DB) and a 48-year-old pilates instructor (DW). It was the ideal situation for my big move to New York. I get a room within my budget, in a nice neighborhood and in a large apartment (see pictures below). My intention (and agreement with DW) was to stay until October 1st. A verbal agreement that I was prepared to honor. However, I never imagined that my post-college experience would require me to live by someone else's rules in an apartment that I had to walk on eggshells in. The month I've spent in this space has been like living with my parents, while there were no formal declaration of rules, it is clear that there are lines of distinction present. The energy in the apartment is burdening and the borderline psychotic laughter, mid-life crisis and lonely desparation of DW begins to question whether one could put up with living here until October 1st. So, when an opportunity arouse to live in a much better apartment with only one roommate (a 21-year-old NYU student) for far less... I would be foolish to commit myself to the asylum I've called a home this last month.

It took some time for me to work up the nerve-- nay the balls -- to confront DW. I knew the confrontation would not be pleasant with a woman whose eyes bulge out of their sockets on a day-to-day basis. I knew it would be an all out brawl with a woman whose passive aggressive manner and ignorance are prevalent in every word that leaves her congested mouth. I came home preparing myself for the daunting task of remaining rational with a woman I knew could not be rational even after 48 years of existence. I asked to speak with her and she immediately became defensive "what about?" I started "Well, I'd like to move out July 1st."

Now, normally I'm a down-to-earth, albeit feisty guy who genuinely respects individuals as long as they remain on my good side. However, when you start cursing at me about how I am "fucking you over" that Hispanic fight rears its ugly head. We exchanged words with this 22-year-old remaining calm and have mockingly staring at the 48-year-old woman who looked like she was seconds from a panic attack. I reminded her that I was uncomfortable in a place that I paid so much for and felt confined to a room. I explained that I understood it was "her" apartment since her name is on the lease and the renters (myself) should sort of live by her rules, but this did not feel like home. In her usual demeanor she proceeded to tell me that I was the crazy one, while yelling at me reminding me that everything has been "just sooo convenient for me." I stood my ground and reminded her that she was not my mother, and that my mother does not even speak to me the way she was speaking to me. Granted this was probably not the best approach considering the woman has never been married, doesn't have children nor speaks of a significant other-- ever.

So how did it end?
Well, lucky for me I had plans that night with DB and did not have to stick around for long. I told her that I would be moving out July 1st, in which she replied she needed 30 days notice (making my move-out day July 8th). My only concern now is having her screw me over by not giving me my entire month's rent back that I paid her June 1st.

Where will I be going?
Here's where the hag had a point... DB and her boyfriend DP are moving into an apartment together, so I will conveniently be taking over DP's apartment, which as mentioned is better for me. It's a five-story walk-up apartment with my apartment on the 5th floor. I have roof access, my own entrance and a fire escape. I also have a window in my room (which I don't have any in the room I am in now), I get a small room to serve as office or lounge (my choice), a nice living room and the kitchen and bathroom rests in between my room and my roommate's room. The best part is I don't have to answer to anyone and I can make my own rules at my apartment. If I wanted to live with my parents I would have stayed in Florida.

In true New York City style I hit-up a lounge on the Lower East Side. Picture yourself walking down a crowded street lined with restaurants, bars and trendy hipsters overflowing the sidewalks. Now, picture yourself walking into a tiny hot dog joint nestled in between two buildings and smelling of cooked pork. At first glance it seems like the perfect locale for a 3 a.m. snack binge following a heavy drinking binge. You give the place a sweep looking left and right-- minding the fact that it isn't much of a place to begin with. The tables are cramped in-line one next another, an arcade machine hinders the walk way entering the restaurant and for whatever reason a crowd stands in front of a phone booth. You make your way to a tiny phone booth and peer inside. Its a phone booth...or is it? Could this phone booth be a portal to another dimension? Could it be a threshold to an alternate universe? No...its the doorway to an exclusive bar appropriately named PDT. For both pretentious and selfish reasons I will not disclose the locale or name of the bar, but if you happen to visit me I will decide whether ye are worthy of this happening bar. So for now this discreption will have to satisfy your curiousity.

Once you pass through the phone booth a cute bleached blonde reminding you of Scarlett Johannson reminds you that if you arrive 15 mins. late to your reservation she will give your table away. You apologize and are immediately escorted to a U-shaped leather booth lit by a tiny boxed light in the center of your table. The bar feels like a cellar. The roof is lower than usual, the floor lined with hardwood and walls made of what looks like red brick, but difficult to distinguish due to the lack of light. The place is small and could easily fill to capacity but the bar has a strict policy of not allowing more patrons in than the number of seats available. There is no standing room allowed here. The decor reminds you of a hunter's trophy case with deer heads and taxidermy serving as the focal points. The bar plays music, but just loud enough to hear without having to scream to have a conversation with your mates. A short italian woman with a sexy birth mark on her face and bright red lipstick comes to take your order. You skim the cocktail menu that boasts $11 cocktails and finally decide on a tequila-riched cocktail titled "El Diablo." You sit back and watch the bartenders (dressed in non-typical aprons that remind you of something a scientist in Amsterdam would wear) make cocktails from behind a bar lit from beneath a fog-paned bar. They taste their creations (like true bartenders should) to ensure the taste of their concoctions are just the right mixture. Your drink arrives and nothing as tasted so sweet. You realize there and then that, that is what a real cocktail should and does taste like. It's just the right amount of liquor to give you a buzz, but not enough to make you wince at every sip. By drink 2 (which you ask the waitress to choose her favorite beer) you are ordering a "Chihuahua" hot dog. You're begrudging paying respect to the fraternity nickname you never embraced, but the idea of a fried hot dog wrapped in bacon and topped with cream cheese and avocado sounds amazing. By now you have moved on to letting the waitress choose a cocktail not featured on the menu with an "S" name and contain "absinthe" as an ingredient. It's strong-- but you wouldn't have it any other way. You sit back, enjoy your conversation with good mates and appreciate this tiny gem of a bar that's "perfectly engineered," as DP put it.

I $ee Dollar $ign$

So I suppose the "perk" in actually becoming a young professional is the lump sums of cash deposited into my bank account every two weeks. I got my first taste of true satisfactory accomplishment this past Friday when I received my first paycheck. Of course, having been on somewhat of a budget since I arrived in the City it was my first impulse to go out and blow all of it on things I merely "wanted" and didn't really "need." However, I shook myself from the hallucination, came back to Earth and realized that I now have bills and responsibilites to take care of before I can consider my paycheck discretionary income (after all I am officially cut-off from the parentals). So, after paying half of my rent (my roommate gave me a break this month and let me give her half now and half on my next paycheck, so that I could have money to have some fun with) I proceeded to treat myself to some lavish dinners, expensive drinks and good times with old friends. There is nothing like spending money you know you've worked for and earned. It makes the satisfaction of every sip that much more enjoyable (or painfully depending on how you look at your cup). A paycheck is like chocolate cake after the delectable meal. The shower following your evening jog (silent 'J'). The cigarette after your afternoon delight ;) It's the icing on the cake. The cherry on top. I could continue...but you get the idea. Perhaps I could attribute my excitement and appreciation for the "reward" to my ambitious and naive state-of-mind. I've worked before, I've earned checks before, but I suppose that after doing it for so many years the checks start looking less like rewards and more like overdue debts from your employers.

So how did I spend my first paycheck? Well that "sweet pad" pictured below isn't cheap, so after (half) my rent was paid I went to celebrate at this tiny, authentic, mom & pop Italian bistro on Park Ave. with Michelle (she was celebrating her new job). We went all out ordering calamari, a bottle of wine, two authentic tasting (very much comprable to the meals I ate in Italy) entrees and washed it down with the complimentary schnapps. Any of my Barcelona mates remember killing the two bottles they put on our table after that one giant meal we ate? It was the same idea... free booze. Needless to say, splitting the check in half with Michelle left me paying for dinner that, at first glance, would seem a family of four had ordered (judging by the total). However, one thing I told myself almost immediately coming to New York was that a good meal is worth it. I would never sacrifice eating at a delicious place for anything. I've also told myself that I will never (can't really say never, but try really hard not too) eat at a chain restaurant again. There is absolutely no need to being in this city with the endless options lining nearly every block of town. So far... so good, and I haven't had one bad meal to date.

Following dinner, we met up with two of our friends to see an early preview of "Knocked Up" which is truly one of the funniest movies I've seen (it's ranking close to my staples of "Anchorman" and "Zoolander").

Along the same lines of my dining out mentality, I've become quite the Emeril in the kitchen. I've slowly began enjoying cooking after work, going to the great markets around the city picking out fresh produce and actually creating some quality meals for myself. It's become my way of "winding down" after work since I don't really watch television anymore. That being said a portion of my money went to the Farmer's Market, Trader Joe's and Whole Foods this weekend. That sounds really boring.

I did go out Saturday night and met up with two my London friends (Candy and Chris). It's so interesting to me that we spent 5 months in London together and went through this incredible experience together-- and we've managed to stay close. The three of us invited friends along for the night out, which began at this awesome mexican restaurant named Senor Swankies. They are primarily known for the "Super-Duper Margaritas" and at $13 bucks a pop they certainly do the job. But, I must say that the most impressive part of the restaurant is the plate-sized burritos it serves. The menu's description intimates a "Moe's" style burrito "over stuffed with succulent beef," but that is pretty much a lie. The burrito comes sprawled on a plate like a giant heap of beef, mixed with beans, rice and cheese and a flour tortilla placed on top because it is too big to even wrap all the way around the filling. The burrito was the length of the plate (a modest 8-9 inches long. It was certainly a feast. Of the 6 people only a mere 2 could actually finish the entire burrito. Needless to say, we had to walk it off before hitting up Nice Guy Eddie's on W. Houston (pronounced HOUSE-TON, not HUSE-TON), which is a typical college-beer bar where the $2 draft budlights quinched my thirst. We proceeded down to Ave. A where we came across SB3, which we came to find out from the burlesque show it stands for "SEXY BITCH 3," and yes I said burlesque.

The cocktail lounge sat conveniently on the corner of small street with 2 of its four walls comprised of open-air door ways. The place, dimly lit with high tables, buzzed with a more sophisticated crowd sipping their $12 concochins. We were led to the downstairs, which was even darker than the upstairs but dramatically lit from behind the velvet couches with red lights... the show was about to start. I'd never been to a burlesque show-- or a strip club, and I never anticipated seeing full frontal nudity, nipple tassles and strange interpretative dances of a mermaid caught in a net on a Saturday night, but it was a good time to say the least. Of course, the bouncer let all 5 of my friends in and when he saw me walk in he made sure to yell to the bartender to "double check all of their IDs to make sure they are 21." You'd think I'd be use to it by now. I did however try some really good drinks-- which if you can find a bar to make them you should give them a shot.

1) Dark & Stormy: A national drink of Bermuda it is comprised of 4 oz Black Seal Rum (the rum company owns the trademark, so if the drink doesn't use this kind of rum it's not a real "Dark & Stormy.) with 2 oz of Ginger Beer. Serve over crushed ice and garnish with a lime for a good time. HEYOOO.

2) PIMMs "Chalice" Cup: Now this cocktail is for the more experimental alchy. It reminded me of a Mojito, and is made of mostly diffused gin and Pimm's ( 1 of 6 types of alcohols including gin, whiskey and rum ). Stir in some mint, fresh cucumber, ginger citrus and top with ginger soda. Tasty.

We hung out and enjoyed some good conversation until about 3 a.m. and decided to check out another bar down the block. It was more of an Emo/Indie Cash-only bar with a real chill vibe, books lining the walls and lit by christmas-style lights. I guess imperfections and beer goggles are better aided by "mood lighting." I hung out until about 4 a.m. and grabbed a cab back to Brooklyn to call it a night.

So what did I learn from earning my first paycheck? That every two weeks my life will be absolute bliss filled with expensive cocktails, delicious food and 4 a.m. cab rides. To quote a "Lab Nerd" friend of mine currently conducting cancer research in Miami... "My bank account is growing exponentially."