Recycle, My Ass.

In the city there are two free newspapers: AM New York and Metro. They come out every weekday and I love them. I love them so much that I will cross the street to get them if necessary. New Yorkers hate to cross the street. Especially if it's an avenue. That's why there can be practically identical bodegas on opposite corners and they'll both thrive. We're just always in a hurry and there's always traffic and that slows you down. At least that's what I think it is. Maybe we're just lazy fucks. Anyway. That is not the point of this story.

Every morning between AM New York and Metro, I have three sudoku games and two crosswords. I occasionally will flip through the rest of the papers, but it's rare. If I see a piece on Amy Winehouse or something, then I'll read it, but otherwise, I do the puzzles on the way to work and when I get off the train, I throw the papers away.

Of course, I feel a pang of guilt when I do it, but I keep doing it. Sometimes on holiday Mondays, Metro doesn't show up at the stands I pass. I don't know if they take those days off, or if the delivery guys are slacking, but it upsets me. I like my puzzles. I look forward to them and the timing is perfect when I have all of them -- if I get a seat that is. Otherwise, I don't make it through them all and I have some left over for the ride home. Yay!So, anyway. I am personally responsible for ten newspapers per week being thrown away because I want to do crosswords and sudoku and I just hate those puzzle books so much. There's something different about doing the puzzles in the paper. I dunno.

On rare occasions when I forget a pen it's misery. But once I compose myself and realize that just because I look through my bag for the eighth time, a pen will not materialize, I read through the papers and then I usually leave them on a bench in the station for someone else. Once I was screamed at by a Metro guy because I dropped my used Metro in his stand. "This is not a recycling pile!" And he grabbed the paper off the stack and threw it away. Then recently these signs started showing up on the garbage cans in the subway stations. The MTA is trying to eliminate garbage created by people like me practicing lazy green-ness. "I'm not being wasteful, I'm leaving a gift for a stranger who forgot to grab a paper on the way downstairs."

I don't believe these signs. I believe the MTA are lying bastards. There is no way that they are forcing those workers to dredge through New York City subway garbage cans to separate out the newspapers for recycling. Do you know what kind of grotesque materials go into those cans? Snotty tissues, chewed gum, vomit. Plus people drop drinks and food in there. I'm not sure, but I would guess that subway station maintenance positions don't offer pay much above minimum wage, and the MTA is having them separate the recyclable materials from bags of vomit and half eaten falafel sandwiches? I highly doubt it.

Yet. In my head I pretend that I do believe them so that when I throw the papers away at 86th street every morning, I don't have to think of polar bears treading water looking for ice floes.s

I drove to Kentucky last week for a job we were doing in Louisville. I rented a 20' box truck and picked it up from midtown at 11 last Friday morning. From there I drove to Long Island City to pick up video and audio gear and I was on the road by 2pm.

Our client had planned to use a local A/V company and at the last minute they bailed. Our gear is more expensive and there's a pretty big shipping cost, so to try to save them money, I volunteered to drive down. I was kind of excited about it.

One thing -- I like driving. Now that I live in New York and no longer own a car, I rarely get the opportunity to drive. Plus, a road trip all alone rocks. So, I take off and drive all the way to Columbus the first night. People. They upgraded me to the Presidential Suite at the Hyatt. I am so excited. I walk in and the place is enormous. I have three bathrooms.

One has a bidet.

I have my own little cedar sauna. Seriously. And I have a wet bar. By the time I got to the hotel it was past one in the morning and all I wanted was a glass of wine and to sit and watch TV. When I saw this place I was in heaven. Then I checked the fridge. Nothing. No wine, no beer, no water. Nothing.

Before I arrived at the hotel I requested that a cheese and cracker plate be left in my room for me. I knew it would be late and I'd be starving. Guess what. No cheese.

So I call Room Service.

RS: Ma'am. Room Service closed at midnight.
Me: I can't get anything? I don't need anything to be cooked.
RS:No, Ma'am.
Me: What about wine? Can I buy a bottle of wine?
RS:No, Ma'am! It's illegal to bring liquor into your room in Columbus!
Me: Okay. Thanks.

Now I go downstairs to talk to the desk people because there is no point in continuing this with her and time's a ticking.

DP:Yes Ma'am? [I swear I thought only Southerners did this.]
Me: Hi. I requested that a cheese plate be left in my room for my arrival tonight and it's not in there.
DP: I'm sorry ma'am. Let me check that for you. (Checks that for me.) Nope. There's nothing on your reservation. Did you get a confirmation?
Me: Yes. But that's okay. Can I get something now?
DP: No, Ma'am. I'm sorry. Room Service is closed.
Me: I realize that this is not your fault but I specifically requested that a cheese plate be left in my room for my arrival and I confirmed that I would be coming in late. I have just driven eleven hours straight and I was hoping to have something to eat when I got here. Isn't there anything you can do?
DP: I can get you some orange crackers with peanut butter.

Can I tell you how proud I am of myself? I did not freak out. I did not let the fact that I was hungry and cranky and sore from bouncing around in the world's crappiest rental truck.

I went back to my palatial suite, gave myself a little pep talk, drank some tap water out of one of the champagne flutes from the not-so-wet bar, and took a sauna.

I am SO growing.