It Ain’t Easy Being Handsome
July 11, 2008
There is an italian deli in my neighborhood that prepares amazing heroes. They have dozens of different sandwiches, each with its own original fun name. Some are named for celebrities, such as the “Robert DeNiro” or the “Ed Burns”, who coincidentally co-starred in the very forgettable and aptly named “15 Minutes”.
I usually order the “Maria’s Hero”, which is breaded eggplant with red peppers, arugula, tomatoes and a nice balsamic vinaigrette.
The guy who works the register is the owner and he’s italian-american, heavy on the italian. I always feel like I have to amp up my italianness (or italian-americanness) when I go in there. I’ll throw out a “How ya doooin’?” when I enter, just to keep up. I’m always a little scared he’ll figure out my game and expose me for the fraud that I am but it’s exhilarating to live dangerously and see how long I can keep it going.
One bit of information that bears mentioning is that the owner almost always addresses me as “handsome”.
“How are ya, handsome? Will that be all?”
I’m always a little thrown and yet secretly thrilled that he addressed me as “handsome”. But what sucks is I get spoiled and expect it every time and sometimes, for whatever reason, he doesn’t say it. Maybe he’s busy or didn’t look up and see me, who knows. But this leads to frantic self-examination, trying to figure out why I didn’t rate a “handsome” that day. Is it my outfit? Should I have trimmed my beard?
Recently I went in and ordered my typical “Maria’s”, which I shorten it to now. While the guy behind the counter was making my hero I went over to the owner to make polite conversation and go “handsome” fishing. I got my handsome but not in the way I expected.
The European Soccer Championships were being played and I knew that Italy had just been eliminated so I figured I could work that in.
“How ya doooin’? Italy had a tough loss, huh?”
“Yeah, they’re no good. They’re a bunch of drama queens. Everything’s a big drama.”
“Yeah”, I said, not really knowing what he was talking about.
“And that Toni… Luca Toni? He didn’t do anything!”
“I know”. I didn’t really know.
“He’s out there with his hair! That’s all he cares about. He’s so fuckin’ handsome!”
What? I was at a loss. I had no idea how to respond to this one so I just let it hang. But he kept going.
“His fuckin’ hair is so long and beautiful. He don’t care!”
“No, I guess not.”
“Alright, handsome. Six dollars.”
Now I was confused. Is being handsome good or bad? He was just very angry at Luca Toni for being handsome and now he’s lumping me in, too. But I hardly have any hair at all, so I guess it was more about the way Toni plays than his being handsome.
Anyway, I’ll keep going in and keep pretending to be more italian than I am and keep hoping to be called handsome. Maybe, if all goes well, someday I’ll look up at the menu and see that the “Maria’s Hero” has been renamed “The Handsome”.
One can dream.
Summer Fun, Somethin’s Begun
July 8, 2008
I have decided to have a fun summer. I am going to do things and try things and go places. My life is ordinarily pretty fun but I’m going to kick it up a notch and have as much fun as I can stand. I’m going to explore New York City and do whatever the hell I feel like doing. I’m going to push myself out of my comfort zone and allow myself to feel awkward and uncomfortable.
Tonight I took break dancing lessons. I noticed in TimeOut NY the other day that they give free break dancing lessons at McCarren Park in Brooklyn. Mind you, I’m an original b-boy from back in the day. My street cred was forever established when my brother and I rapped at the Apollo in the late 80s as “Brotherly Love”. Royal Tee and MC Mellow tore it up that night, even if the vociferous crowd didn’t see it that way.
My break dancing has never been quite where I’ve wanted it to be so when I saw that listing my first reaction was “That sounds like fun!” Then my second reaction was “You can’t go to break dancing lessons, for godsakes!” Then my third reaction was “Fuck that! Yes, you can! You’re going!”
So I went. It was awesome. There were a bunch of guys and girls dancing on linoleum and they clearly knew what the hell they were doing. Then a group of about twenty of us who were not so accomplished got into rows for the class. A short muscular dude started teaching the class and slowly going through moves.
I felt really stiff and awkward at first. The asian dude to my left and russian girl to my right were clearly better than I.
I was reminded of my musical theater days when I had to learn dances and it always seemed to come slowly. But I can move pretty well and once I get it, I start to throw in my own flourishes, which I think the teacher appreciated and respected.
I couldn’t do a lot of the stuff on the floor because, with my 6′1″ frame, my long legs seemed to keep getting tangled up underneath me. But I felt good about my standing dance shit. I was throwin’ down, yo. I represented Queens, that’s for damn sure.
Next on my radar is Warm Up at P.S. 1. It’s a summer music/dance series at P.S. 1 in Long Island City on Saturdays. I plan to do the adult swim in Astoria Park pool a few mornings this summer. I did it last summer and stayed in the slow lane with the old people. I also noticed an offering for free kayaking in the east river, which sounds like it’s right up my alley.
And so my summer of fun is officially underway. I want to live! I want to suck the marrow out of life! I want to feel uncomfortable, awkward and alive!!! And if all goes well, live to tell about it!