Routine, Interrupted

If you look up the phrase, “creature of habit,” in the dictionary, it should be illustrated with my ugly mug. I follow the same routine during the work week to near-pinpoint accuracy. But this week, my cheese was moved, and I don’t like it.

Since my company moved to its current location about six years ago, I’ve stopped in the same deli every morning for the New York Post, the Daily News, iced coffee, Gatorade and my breakfast sandwich (egg whites and cheese on an English muffin). And I do mean every single morning.

My deli’s last day in business was Wednesday, and for the past two mornings, I’ve been lost without it.

There was absolutely nothing special about the deli. The food was good, but far from spectacular. Emeril Lagasse and Bobby Flay: No need to lose sleep. Its redeeming qualities for me were as follows: It was a block-and-a-half from my office, it carried the Post and News, it served iced coffee year-round and it was a block-and-a-half from my office. Oh, and did I mention the fact that it was a block-and-a-half from my office?

But I now have to make two stops during my morning commute – one for the newspapers and one for food. And I still find myself walking in the direction of the old deli, probably due to six years of muscle memory. Plus, the people at new deli, while mere steps from my office, don’t know me yet, so I actually have to wait in line with the rest of the commoners (you don’t know how great perks are until you lose them). And they don’t have English muffins.

I want my deli back, damn it.

And yes, I did steal the title of this blog from Girl, Interrupted. I never saw the film, but I really want to rent the DVD for three reasons: I love the title, I’ve heard it was a great movie and staring at Angelina Jolie never sucks.

The final hours

No, I’m not dying. Just inching closer to death with age, like everyone else is.

I turn 40 today. But I absolutely, positively refuse to accept being 40 until 7:32 p.m. My birth certificate is an official document, and that’s what I’m sticking with. So, for the next few hours, I’m clinging to 39, my 30s in general and whatever else I can dig a claw into.

Somehow, I missed the note about age bringing wisdom. I fell victim to the dreaded surprise party Saturday night and got totally played. I had no clue, concept or theory, which means it was a success. Huge props to my girlfriend and my ex-roommate and good friend for putting everything together.

Age definitely brings lack of energy, though. It’s early Monday afternoon as I type this, and I’m still shot from Saturday night. And for the most part, I stuck to my plan to drink only Guinness or Irish whiskey, although a shot or two of dreaded Jagermeister may have snuck its way onto the menu toward the end of the night.

I don’t feel any different. I think the only reason I’ve thought about 40 so much is that everyone has done nothing but remind me about the number for the past few weeks. Not that I’m complaining: When you break your friends’ chops as much as I do, you have to be able to accept it in return.

I mean, really, what’s the difference? I can still play softball. Even if I lose a little more speed, I didn’t start off with a hell of a lot, anyway. I gave up football two years ago. On a good night, I can still drink 20-something punks under the table. My life will be no different after 7:32 p.m. than it is now or was yesterday. As the old cliché says, “It’s just a number.”

Saturday night’s party was unreal, though. Once I got over the shock of how completely suckered I was, I was amazed at the number of people there, and how generous some of the gifts were just blew me away. I don’t want to leave any out, so I’m not going to get into a list, but I have to mention two — two bottles of Johnnie Walker Blue. Wow! I’m seriously humbled.

What can I say? I guess I’m just getting a little contemplative with old age.

Spending dead presidents to see dead presidents

Other than Hawaii, which is an optimal place to spend any weekend, what better place to spend President’s Day weekend than our nation’s capital? At least that’s what my girlfriend and I thought, so we drove down Saturday morning and had a great time.

A few observations:

• The United States Holocaust Memorial Museum: What an emotionally draining experience. I can honestly say I learned more here than I have in a single day in a long time, but after nearly four hours, I was sapped.

The curators did an absolutely fantastic job with this place. Everything is so thorough, and some of the genuine articles they were able to preserve and borrow from other collections are unbelievable.

One thing I didn’t expect (and hadn’t really read much about in the past) was the fact that the U.S. government basically got taken to task for knowing what was going on in Europe during the late 1930s and early 1940s and doing absolutely nothing about it. I expected a museum located a short walk from the White House and the Capitol to sugar-coat things a little, and I’m impressed that this wasn’t the case.

Another thing I noticed: There were several kids in the museum who, in my opinion, were way too young to deal with some of the really graphic stuff. I think taking anyone under 12 to the museum is pushing it. I’m a firm believer that this generation and future generations should know what happened, but I also don’t think an eight-year-old should see some of the things that are displayed.

• The DuPont Circle area: I’m a drinker, not a planner. Fortunately, I’m dating a planner. All of the logistics this past weekend could not have possibly worked out better, so I wanted to plug a few of the places we visited.

The DuPont Circle area in general is a great place to stay if you’re visiting D.C. There is a healthy supply of bars and restaurants within walking distance, along with a Metro station (more on that below).

We stayed at the Hotel Madera. It was a beautiful older building, with a lot of character, and everything about the stay was pleasant. There were some neat little touches, like a wine hour from 5 p.m.-6 p.m. and a bowl of Oreos to greet guests returning home from the bars.

We also had some damn good meals. Our first lunch destination was Circa, where I had the best salad I’ve had in years. The place was busy and obviously popular, and it had a great beer and wine selection.

While wandering around the area and looking for dinner, we tripped across Raku, which describes itself as an Asian diner. We ordered two completely different meals — a noodle dish and sushi — and both were excellent. We had some fun, inexpensive cocktails, as well, including one concoction that was a mix of sake and plum wine.

A must for brunch, despite the long wait, was Afterwords Café, part of a bookstore called Kramerbooks. It was well worth the wait. The brunch menu was huge, our food was outstanding and, much like Circa, Afterwords also had an impressive wine and beer selection.

• Beer: Speaking of beer, I’m sure anyone who knows me is far from shocked that this is a topic. I had several great beer experiences in our nation’s capital. Two Irish pubs in the DuPont Circle area — James Hoban’s and Biddy Mulligan’s, which is actually part of an Irish hotel called Jury’s — poured two of the best pints of Guinness I’ve enjoyed in quite some time. And we had dinner at Capitol City Brewing, where the excellent food was complemented by Prohibition Porter and Nut Brown Ale, both absolutely delicious.

• The Metro: Every time I ride the Washington version of the subway, I wonder what New York did wrong. Obviously, D.C. had the advantage of building its system well after New York did, but everything is so clean, spacious, well-lit and efficient. I’m jealous.

By the way, if anyone would like to buy a fare card with $1.90 remaining, let me know. I might even let it go for $1.50.

What the hell is going on today?

My day already started off on a nerve-wracking note when I completely misheard an announcement in the Hoboken PATH station. But all is well on that front, and I figured the rest of my day would be relatively peaceful, other than work stress and my usual hatred of Mondays.

Wrong!

I called in a sushi order for lunch and, while walking up Park Avenue to pick it up, a white car that looked like an old Hyundai Excel or Ford Tempo suddenly jumped onto the sidewalk between 26th and 27th Streets, about a half-block in front of me, without slowing down at all.

The car miraculously didn’t hit anyone, as there were only two people in its path, and they were able to get out of the way, but it drove the remaining half-block on the sidewalk, without bothering to slow down, then drove down the curb and back onto Park Avenue. The driver (I wasn’t close enough to see the person, nor, unfortunately, to get a license-plate number) then stopped at the corner for about three seconds to gather himself or herself and proceeded to drive off normally like nothing had happened.

Making the incident even scarier, no sooner than five seconds after the car passed on the sidewalk, a woman came out of one of the office buildings pushing a stroller. Luckily, she had no idea why everyone was staring at her. I don’t think she needs to know that if she had come out 10 seconds earlier, her, her child or both might not have been among the living.

What the hell is wrong with people today? I’m going home (and carefully looking both ways, too). I’ve had it.

The 11th

I had quite the scare on the PATH train this morning as I was waiting for the doors to close in Hoboken.

For once, I didn’t have headphones in my ears, because the wind chill of -10 degrees when I left my apartment made my ski hat much more of a priority than my iPod. So rather than listening to Social Distortion, I heard the Hoboken station manager’s announcement.

This is what I thought I heard: “Direct impact, World Trade Center. Direct impact, World Trade Center.” My mind immediately started racing, as did my heartbeat. I realized that today was the 11th and the worst possible thoughts started coming to mind.

Then I looked around the train and noticed that only one or two other passengers even had their eyebrows raised a little bit, so I started to calm down and rethink matters. That’s when I realized that the announcement actually said, “Heading back, World Trade Center. Heading back, World Trade Center,” to inform the conductor that the train was making one more run, rather than going out of service.

Whew!

I’ve never been one of those people who get hit by a raindrop and immediately start yelling, “The sky is falling!” I don’t rattle easy, but I was definitely a little rattled this morning.

I still see various iterations of the phrase, “9/11: Never Forget” on T-shirts, hats and bumper stickers. I seriously doubt it’s an issue. Anyone who was anywhere near this city when the tragedy happened will never forget.

Even if they’ve gotten to the point where I am — actually managing to go a few days at a time without thinking about it — no one will ever forget. And I was one of the “lucky” ones who didn’t lose anyone close to them. My worst experience was losing a friend of a friend, who was an absolute great guy and a tragic loss, but not part of my everyday life. I can’t even imagine what goes through the minds of people who lost family members or close friends, or people who were close to the scene.

“9/11: Never Forget.” I doubt anyone will.

A mystery breakfast gone awry

For a number of reasons, I decided it would be beneficial to have a productive Saturday, rather than imitating my two cats and doing nothing but lying on the bed or couch and occasionally stretching or scratching.

So, why not take advantage of the fact that I live a block-and-a-half from a Dunkin Donuts? Since my PC takes about 20 minutes to boot anyway, I threw on sweatpants and a hat and took a walk to fetch breakfast.

I’m an iced-coffee addict, so I figured I’d start my day with a large iced cinnamon; sausage, egg and cheese on an English muffin; and a glazed donut.

In the words of the great Meat Loaf, “Two out of three ain’t bad.” And if anyone knows about breakfast, it’s Meat Loaf.

When I got back upstairs, my PC was actually ready to go, so I fired up a couple of applications and unwrapped my sausage, egg and cheese on an English muffin. Only it wasn’t a sausage, egg and cheese on an English muffin. It was something quite unsatisfying, to say the least: a salt bagel with cream cheese.

At the risk of offending any salt-bagel aficionados who might come across this blog, YUCK. Seriously, who eats these things? One might yell at me for being too lazy to walk back to Dunkin Donuts and exchange the sandwich, and one would be dead-balls accurate on that front, but that was seriously one of the worst sandwiches I’ve ever had. It’s been one hour, one large iced coffee and one large Solo cup of water later, and I still have the taste of salt in my mouth. Foul.

So I guess the moral of the story is: Check your sandwich before leaving the establishment.

Unless someone can teach me how to say, “Sausage, egg and cheese on an English muffin” in Hindi.

Buy me some peanuts and … a dirty martini?

I just can’t wait until April 2009, when the new Yankee Stadium opens. It’s always been my dream to change into a jersey and shorts, throw on my old-school hat, leave the office, take the 4 train up to the ballpark and settle into my seat with a martini to root on the Bronx Bombers.

Or not.

In case you missed it, AP posted a progress report on the construction of the new Yankee Stadium yesterday. Featured prominently in the lead paragraph was the fact that the new ballpark will have a martini bar.

Are you kidding me?

Baseball is about hotdogs and cold beer. Baseball is about sneaking a flask into the ballpark so you can add Jack Daniel’s to your soda or vodka to your lemon ice. Baseball is NOT about martinis.

I like martinis. I really do. But they have their place, and the ballpark is not their place.

I actually prefer dirty martinis. I’m not a fan of the sweet, fruity varieties. It’s simply a matter of taste — I don’t dislike them because I think they’re “girly” drinks. I’m confident in my masculinity, even though I own two cats.

But they don’t belong in the ballpark. Period.

And even if I was sitting at a relatively unexciting Tuesday-night affair against Kansas City and suddenly got the craving for something different, here’s another issue: Considering the fact that most beers at the Stadium are just under $10, and they just started selling oil cans of Foster’s this past season for $12 (only six times the local bodega’s price, but who’s counting?), exactly how much are these martinis going to cost? I set the over/under at $31.50.

The more I hear about this new ballpark, the more I hate it.

Eli Manning Way? Enough already!

Just when I thought I was going to be able to go five minutes without being reminded that the Giants won the Super Bowl, I had to go and read that the square mile of issues known as Hoboken is considering naming a street after Eli Manning.

Enough already.

I’ve given the Giants plenty of well-deserved props, but enough already.

The man has had four solid games. Six weeks ago, most Giants fans I know wanted to drop him off Pier A with rocks tied to him. And now, he’s worthy of a street?

Off the top of my head, I can name several recent area athletes who are far more deserving of that honor.

If you want to stick with the Giants, how about the quarterback who had the best performance in Super Bowl history, Phil Simms? Character issues probably rule out Lawrence Taylor (although how much worse is his character than that of just about any Hudson County politician?), unless the city is looking to name an alley where drug transactions occur. O.J. Anderson?

Granted, football’s popularity dwarfs that of hockey, but the New Jersey Devils have won three Stanley Cups in the not-too-distant past. How about Scott Stevens, Martin Brodeur or Scott Niedermayer?

The New York Yankees won four World Series in five years. How about Derek Jeter or Joe Torre? Or even Bernie Williams? Mariano Rivera?

Character issues kind of rule out most of the 1986 Mets, and the New Jersey Nets’ last championship happened when the team played on Long Island in short-shorts with gigantic afros and a red, white and blue basketball. And as for the Jets, are they still in the league?

I’m really not trying to trash Eli Manning. His play escalated at the best possible time, and I expect him to go into next season with a new level of confidence and stay in the upper echelon of quarterbacks.

But I say, “No way,” to Eli Manning Way.

Super jealous

I didn’t realize how jealous I was of Giants fans until this morning, when I got to the PATH station in Hoboken for my commute to cubicle hell. Every inch of the World Trade Center-bound platform was filled with Giants fans heading to the victory parade.

No one who has ever run into me in the morning will call me “Sunshine,” but being surrounded by Giants fans definitely darkened my already dark mood.

As I’ve already mentioned in my Super Bowl wrap-up, I don’t hate the Giants. But I don’t like them either. I did root for them on Sunday, but to be truthful, if my Cowboys couldn’t represent the NFC, I’d have much rather seen the Green Bay Packers take their shot.

It wasn’t a bitter, hateful jealousy. The Giants earned their championship with four hard-fought playoff wins, including one over my team. As KGB said in Rounders, “Give him his money … he beat me fair and square.”

It sucked seeing so many people so happy and not being a part of it. Not that I have any intentions of changing allegiances, mind you, but the flavor in the air was very similar to the few days after the 1996 World Series, when the Yankees shocked the Braves and the world.

I work in Manhattan, but nowhere near the parade. Yet when I went out for lunch, I couldn’t walk half-a-block without running into someone wearing Giants gear.

One observation made me laugh: So many of the Giants jerseys I’ve seen the past couple of weeks are brand-spanking new, which is fine. There’s nothing wrong with buying a new jersey, although hard-core longtime Giants fans may differ and chastise people for jumping on the bandwagon.

But I laughed because it reminded me of a conversation I had with a Giants fan at a bar in Hoboken very early in this football season, when I showed up to watch a Cowboys game wearing a Tony Romo jersey.

Giants fan (in what was clearly a sarcastic tone): NICE NEW Romo jersey you got there.

Me (doubly sarcastic): Well, he hasn’t even been the starting quarterback for a year yet. How fucking old of a jersey would you like me to wear? I’ll make you happy and show up in a leather helmet next week, numb nuts.

Anyway, as I said, there’s no hate in my jealousy. Giants fans: Enjoy this. This whole experience just makes my hunger for a Cowboys Super Bowl victory and a Yankees World Series victory that much stronger.

I’d have mentioned a New Jersey Nets NBA title, but they don’t let me drink at work.

Super Bowl XLII … from a Dallas fan’s perspective

It’s been just a hair over 24 hours since the officials at Super Bowl XLII had to go through the ridiculous process of clearing off the field just so Eli Manning could take a snap and kneel, running out the one second left on the clock. And I honestly still don’t believe the game I watched.

For those who don’t know me, I’m a die-hard Dallas Cowboys fan. Rooting for the Giants was painful for me, but I couldn’t bring myself to root for New England. That franchise just oozes with reasons to hate them.

And while I don’t like the Giants, I don’t hate them. I don’t have anywhere near the contempt for them that I do for Philadelphia or Washington, or even San Francisco (yes, I know, the Niners have been harmless for years, but every single time I watch a football game, I see a replay of the God-damned Dwight Clark catch at some point, so I will always hate the Forty-Niners, no matter what their record is).

I respect the Giants’ organization and, for the most part, their fans. I’ve been to nearly 20 Cowboys @ Giants games and never had any problems. I have to root against them frequently for NFC East purposes, but, to steal an oft-quoted line from The Godfather, “It’s not personal. It’s just business.”

As far as the Giants @ Cowboys divisional playoff game three weeks ago, I had a bad feeling all the way through. When the list of four potential Cowboys’ opponents came out, the Giants were by far the last ones I wanted to play. My preferred order was: Tampa, because I thought they sucked and still do (taking nothing away from the Giants’ Wild Card victory there, but just sayin’); Seattle, because I wanted payback from the infamous Romo dropped snap last year; Washington, because I don’t need a reason to get fired up for the Redskins; THEN the Giants. Well, we all know how that worked out.

So now that I’ve had a full day to digest Super Bowl XLII, I thought I’d share my opinions on some of the best plays, standout players and what this means for next season.

The first half: As I said, I rooted for the Giants. And I thought it was a very, very bad omen that they pretty much dominated 30 minutes of football, yet trailed 7-3 at halftime. This whole season, it just seemed like New England was ready to strike at any moment, and I feared (and many Giants fans probably shared this concern) that 7-3 could become 21-3 very quickly. When you’re playing a team as talented as New England, you can’t waste opportunities, and thoroughly outplaying a team, yet being down four points, struck me as a big-time wasted opportunity.

12 men on the field: I thought this would be a huge momentum-turner. For those who don’t remember the play, the Giants forced the Patriots to punt and got decent field position, but one of the Giants was late getting off the field just prior to the punt snap, and Belichick threw the red challenge flag, got the play overturned and got the ball back for New England. I thought the momentum swing would be very tough for the Giants to recover from.

Justin Tuck: What a beast. If this guy didn’t play on the same team as Michael Strahan and Osi Umenyiora (yes, I confess, I did have to look up the spelling of his name), he’d be considered one of the best defensive players in the game. He should anyway. And if Strahan decides to retire, I don’t see this pass rush missing a beat.

The Catch, II: If you’ve been in the same ZIP code as a TV set since Sunday night, you’ve seen the play: Eli Manning somehow avoids being sacked by three Patriots, scrambles to his left and fires one deep, and David Tyree somehow catches the ball 32 yards downfield with one hand and his helmet. This would have been considered one of the greatest plays and one of the greatest catches of all-time if it happened during a regular-season game in October. The fact that it happened during the Super Bowl almost gives it Willie Mays-Vic Wertz status. Patriots fans will soon be as sick of seeing replays of this play as I am of seeing replays of Tony Romo’s bobbled snap in the Cowboys’ playoff loss at Seattle last year.

David Tyree: It seems like there always has to be someone who comes out of the woodwork and has a huge effect on a championship game after contributing marginally during the regular season. Queue David Tyree: Four catches during the regular season, and three during the Super Bowl, including The Catch, II. Unreal.

2:39: As well as the Giants played, and despite all of the cracks in the Patriots’ armor, I don’t think I would have taken 10-1 odds on a bet that Eli Manning would lead a comeback with 2:39 to go. But — say it with me, kids — that’s why they play the game.

Belichick leaving the field early: In the words of ex-New Jersey Net Derrick Coleman, “Whoop de damn doo.” I think it was ridiculous that they cleared the field with one second left just to make the Giants come out and kneel on the ball. Were the Patriots too lost, rudderless and misguided without their coach to send 11 people out on the field to line up and watch Eli take the snap? I hate Belichick with a passion for a number of reasons, but the fact that he’s getting criticized for leaving the field “early” is an utter and complete joke. Had he not congratulated Coughlin, then that would be an altogether different story. But to me, this is a nonstory.

The NFC East in 2008: How quickly things change. The Cowboys dominated the division in 2007. Doing so in 2008 will be much harder. Eli Manning is now on an entire different level. Confidence is one of the most important elements of being a quarterback, and his has to be skyrocketing right now. And his teammates’ confidence in his ability to get the job done, which is equally important, will be equally high. It’s hard to believe this is the same guy I watched when I went to the Vikings @ Giants game this season — four interceptions, all horrendous throws, three returned for touchdowns. No one who was at that game — even players’ families — would have had the audacity to predict a Super Bowl win. As for the other teams in the division, Washington was scrappy enough to get into the playoffs and will likely be dangerous next season, as will Philadelphia. Nothing is ever easy in the NFC East, but the 2008 season will be one of the biggest dogfights yet.

The Cowboys in 2008: I just hope this past season wasn’t the only opportunity the Cowboys get. But I just don’t see 13-3 happening next year. As I said above, the NFC East is going to be a war zone. I guess the best hope is to get more consistent pressure on the quarterback, improve the safety play (translation: either get Roy Williams to get his head out of his ass, or get someone else out there) and find a second running back to back up Marion Barber (I’d be stunned if Julius Jones returns). I still think the Cowboys will be one of the better teams in the conference, but nothing will be handed to them. If they somehow get the No. 1 seed again, they’ll have earned it, and then some.

Congratulations, Giants fans. Enjoy this. It was well-deserved. Your team clicked at the right time, did what they had to do and outplayed four teams under less-than-ideal circumstances. No one can take this away from the New York Football Giants or their fans.