Walk on the Wild Side

There are about a buzillion things I love about living in New York.

The energy of the city.

The weather in October.

The food on every street corner.

This week I’ve had a chance to show off all of those things to my wife and kids who are in town for a visit.

There is however one thing that in the immortal words of The Fine Young Cannibals, is driving me crazy:

Sidewalk traffic.

We don’t come from a place where people actually walk much, at least not on the street, so this has been quite the experience.

I am totally cool with the fact that 1.6 million people live in the 23 square miles of Manhattan.

And I am totally cool with the fact that those 1.6 million people own at least 2.4 million cell phones.

But do they really need to use them while they are walking?

Shouldn't they pull over to the side of the sidewalk to text?

Oprah, can you write up another petition please?

And as for those people who prefer to walk at a pace like they are doing an audition for Chariots of Fire, The Prequel....

Speed up or get off my sidewalk!

I understand that my quick pace of walking is not shared by all, but these slow walkers make me loco.

And I really love the people who walk right in front of you....

.....And stop.

Stop cold!

And I really love the people who stand in the middle of the sidewalk to take a picture of... a building.

Google Images people!

I always loved watching Barry Sanders play football.

He'd run right at a traffic jam.

Evaluate the smallest hole he could fit through.

Stop on a dime.

Spin his body around.

And run for a score.

Of course, if I tried any of those moves on 6th Avenue, I'd instantly tear my ACL.

But if you want to be successful walking on the streets of New York, you’d better apply the same concepts.

One of the true rewards of walking in New York is the sport of jaywalking.

Red light, schmed light.

If you don’t see a car coming, start moving.

If you do see a car coming, move faster.

I’ve noticed that the taxi drivers like to speed up when they notice a pedestrian walking across the street when they are not supposed to.

And everybody does it.

I mean, EVERYBODY.

If New York really wanted to fix the budget crisis, they’d start handing out jaywalking tickets.

They’d have like 19 trillion dollars by Tuesday.

My wife is a very cautious person.

But not in New York.

Sure, she’s still careful, especially when she is with the kids.

But this week I have definitely noticed her becoming quite the daredevil.

At least by her terms.

That little sign that tells you when it is ok to walk is about as useful as a calorie counter at a Baskin Robbins. 

Everybody sees it, but nobody pays attention to it.

New York is the first city I’ve ever lived in where you don’t really need a car.

In fact, when you factor in the traffic and the outrageous parking prices, not only don’t you need a car, you don’t want one.

That was definitely not the case when I lived in LA.

Take your car away and they might as well take your feet away too.

The public transportation in Los Angeles barely exists.

Living in LA without a car is the fastest way to a nervous breakdown.

The second fastest is having a car in LA.

There were days, plenty of them, when my 25-mile commute would take close to 90 minutes.

And that was 90 PAINFUL minutes.

Stop and go, the entire way.

With a whole lot more of the stopping then the going.

But with the help of the traffic helicopters in LA, I was usually able to adjust and try a different route.

Maybe that's what New York needs...

...sidewalk traffic reporters.

I can hear it now.

"For those of you headed uptown this morning, you may want to consider the right side of Madison Avenue.  There is a mother with twins on 5th Avenue and the double-wide stroller is not letting anyone pass."

Or perhaps.  

"If you are headed Eastbound on 27th street and in need of some caffeine this morning, head two blocks south.  The Starbucks on 25th Street has a shorter line than the Starbucks on 26th or the seven Starbucks on 27th."

I think I’m onto something.

Happy New Year

For Jewish people around the world, today marks the beginning of the new year.

Year 5771.

Wow, do I feel old.

Growing up, this holiday was a big deal in my house.

We used to spend all day in synagogue praying.

Praying that the next year would be better than the last.

Praying that your family would be safe and healthy.

Praying that you could stay awake during the Rabbi’s sermon.

My dad was really good at the first two.

He loved going to synagogue or as we always referred to it in the Jewish slang, Shul.

We would go to Shul almost every Saturday during the year, but we would never miss the “High Holidays”.

As I’ve stated before, I’m a big believer in religion, any religion.

If it works for you.

I still believe in God and I still believe in faith and I still believe in tradition and I still believe in believing.

But as for spending all day sitting in a synagogue, that’s just not for me.

And it hasn’t been for a while.

I haven’t gone to a Shul in several years and I won’t be going for these holidays.

It’s not a protest or political statement, I’m just not going.

And it sounds like I’m not the only one.

I spoke to several of my Jewish friends yesterday and we exchanged Happy New Year greetings as we always do.

I asked if they would be going to Shul for the services and the group was split.

Some are.   Some are not.

Not exactly a Gallup Poll, but it was still interesting to me.

I was raised to be much more religious than the core of my friends.

In fact, I was raised a hardcore part-time orthodox jew.

I went to a Jewish school, five days a week, learning English, Math and Science for half of the day.

Jewish studies for the other half.

We kept a strictly kosher home, with strictly kosher rules.

All kosher foods.

Different plates for meat meals and milk meals.

And there was no getting around it.

Unless we were out of the house.

Then we did what worked.

In the Jewish religion you can’t eat shellfish.

But my dad always raved about the crab cakes in Maryland.

On the Sabbath, you cannot drive a car.

But we always drove to Shul.

On the Sabbath, you cannot turn on lights or electronics.

But we always watched a game on TV.

In fact, sports was a religion in our house.

I can remember May 24, 1980 like it was yesterday.

That was the day of my Bar Mitzvah, the day I became a man.

I spent many months preparing for that day.

Learning the words, writing the speech, picking out the food.

But sitting here thirty years later, the first thing that comes to mind from that day was coming home from the services and turning on the TV.

At that EXACT moment I saw Bob Nystrom of the New York Islanders skating around the ice after scoring the game-winning goal in the Stanley Cup Finals to defeat my Philadelphia Flyers.

It broke my heart as a Flyers fan.

But little did I know at the time that Nystrom was Jewish, not that it would’ve made me feel better.

I always loved hearing my dad's story about the time he mixed religion and sports.

He was working for the original Los Angeles Angels at the time, in the early 60’s.

The team was in Chicago on a road-trip and going through a terrible losing streak.

So bad, that he found a synagogue in Chicago where he could go to a Saturday service and pray.

At one point, as a visitor, he was called up to the stage to recite a certain prayer.

As part of that prayer, the Rabbi asked if there are any specific people in my dad’s life that he would like the Rabbi to mention.

When this is done, people will usually bring up their mother or father or children or anybody that they feel needs an extra shot.

That’s where Starbucks got the idea.

Well my dad mentioned his close family members, like most people do.

And then asked the Rabbi to say an extra prayer for the Angels.

The Los Angeles Angels.

The Orthodox Rabbi stopped cold and seemed shocked.

He informed my father that he could not do that.

“Why,” my father asked.

“Because I’m a White Sox fan."

Happy New Year, no matter what team you are on.