Muffler Man: Pink Pants

My mom and I just got back from an epic road trip through nine states over four days. When I started planning the road trip, I knew that our main destination was roadside mecca South of the Border, but I also knew that the point of the trip was the journey. I planned nearly 30 stops along the way there and back and we hit almost all of them. 

If you were following along on my Instagram stories, it may have seemed like we were on a Muffler Man scavenger hunt—we saw five official Muffler Men, in addition to three UniRoyal Gals and numerous other fiberglass sculptures. My mom saw her first Muffler Man (and first UniRoyal Gal) on our trip to Atlantic City last year and she's now just as obsessed as I am. 

Our very first stop after picking up our rental car at Newark Airport was this Muffler Man in pink pants and suspenders at Royal Tire and Auto in Magnolia, New Jersey. I love his coloring and that he's holding a tire—it's a regular size tire but it looks tiny in his huge hands. My mom pointed out his veiny forearms arms, and I'm always wowed by the detail and care that go into making and maintaining these roadside giants. 

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Royal Tire and Auto of Magnolia
301 N White Horse Pike
Magnolia, NJ 08049
Easily accessible

Project 365: 274-280

274/365: My uncle was in town and we went to Hartsdale to visit dearly departed celebrities at Ferncliff Cemetery. Dr. Luigi was not a celebrity, but I love his epitaph.

275/365: I met David at BAM to see Harry Dean Stanton's last movie, Lucky, and I saw this sticker in the restroom (hell yes!).

276/365: I worked for the day as one of the photographers for 92Y's annual StreetFest.

277/365: Psycho bunny.

278/365: I bought this candle at Home Goods and it's making my apartment smell amazing.

279/365: It's apple cramble season!

280/365: The most epic of road trips. Get ready for roadside attraction posts from this trip until the end of time!

Mushrooms

I don't claim to know much about nature—I live in New York City by choice, after all—but I love discovering all of the strange and interesting things that manage to grow unattended in the woods. David and I recently went camping in the Catskills and before settling in for the night took a hike around the North/South lake. I always notice mushrooms because they're usually so adorable, but for some reason they seemed to be everywhere on this particular hike. 

Sometimes I think people assume I know more about nature than I do, just because I grew up in Ohio. Sure, I had to do a leaf-identification project in school, but that doesn't mean I remember much beyond the difference between a maple and a ginko leaf. I do wish I knew more about properly identifying mushrooms—I love mushrooms so it would be pretty cool to be able to pluck part of my dinner right out of the woods. I knew people back in Ohio that swore by certain varieties but I've seen Into the Wild enough times that I'd probably never get to the point where I felt comfortable eating things I just found. 

I have, however, heard of puffballs and we spent a great deal of time poking all of the ones around our campsite. I'm sure this isn't the best way to properly respect the beauty of nature, but it's just too satisfying to resist. It's also impossible to stop once you start, and we joked that we'd return next year to find the campsite closed due to an explosion in the mushroom population.

High Line

On a particularly lazy recent Sunday, I reached the point of ultimate Netflix judgment, watching Gilmore Girls for so long I was asked "are you still there?" I knew I had to get off the couch eventually, but I was having a hard time coming up with a plan. I finally decided to walk the High Line—a new segment had opened since I had last walked its length and the park now runs from 34th Street between 11th and 12th Avenues to Gansevoort Street.

The High Line was opened as an elevated train track in 1934. The last train ran on the tracks in 1980, and it was abandoned until planning began for a park in the late 90s. The first section opened in 2009. The northernmost section looks over the train storage at Hudson Yards and catching a sneak peek at the inner workings of the city is always interesting to me. 

I absolutely love the concept and execution of the High Line. The wildflowers and slightly overgrown feel make it easy to imagine what the track felt like abandoned and the views of the city and surrounding buildings are always excellent. Every time I go it seems like a new, fancy building is springing up within feet of the park—but I was happy to see that one of the last stand alone diners left in Manhattan is still going strong. 

I really want to love the High Line and I do, as far as the concept, but every time I go I remember why I don't go very often—it's far too crowded. Sure, it was a sunny summer Sunday, so I'm not surprised it was packed, but walking in a single-file line behind a thousand tourists is not exactly my idea of a relaxing afternoon. It's a wonderful addition to the city and of course I understand its popularity, but I think I'll skip the sunny Sundays from now on and plan my visits for when park walks are a little less desirable. 

Unisphere Fountains

Seeing the Unisphere for the first time was love at first sight. It was bitterly cold and had recently snowed, but after getting over the initial honeymoon phase, I dreamed of seeing it with its fountains turned on. The first time I caught a glimpse of the fountains was indeed magic, but it was woefully brief—they turned them off because it was windy and people complained of the over spray. The second time I saw them, I really got to experience them in all of their World's Fair glory and it was just as impressive as I had imagined. Seeing the Unisphere lit up like a shiny Christmas ornament at night was next on my list, and after I crossed off that iteration there was only one left—the Unisphere, with fountains, at night.

The fountains—part of the original, 1964 design to create the illusion that the globe is floating—are not on a regular schedule. They have been on a few times when I've visited Flushing Meadows in the summer, but I've seen them off more times than on. Getting to Flushing Meadows is a bit of time commitment, but I knew that US Open time was a (mostly) sure bet. I went two days before the finals and lucked out with perfect weather and a nearly-deserted park. 

I have almost no experience with night photography or long exposures (except these photos), so this was a great opportunity to play with my camera settings and really try to figure it out. There was a lot of trial and error, but somewhere in the process I accidentally discovered how to take "ghost" photographs. Someone wandered into my frame (my lifelong struggle), lingered for a minute and then walked out. I did a test with myself, and soon I was running in and out of the frame like a lunatic trying to get just the right shot. I couldn't resist taking my tripod around the park, trying to capture the New York State Pavilion, Queens theater and of course the Mister Softee Truck amidst the twinkling lights.

I was having so much fun that I completely lost track of time, and stayed long enough that the tennis match let out. I had to ride the 7 train back to Manhattan with the contents of an entire tennis stadium, but I was full of Mister Softee and high on that Unisphere magic, so I couldn't be too grumpy. 

Project 365: Days 267-273

267/365: We woke up after camping for the night in the Catskills and suddenly it was fall. 

268/365: I met a friend for brunch and did some frivolous shopping in my neighborhood. I love my city adventures, but sometimes it's nice to just hang out close to home. I didn't get a dog groomed, but if I had one I would definitely take it here based on the signage alone.

269/365: I took a tour of the New York State Pavilion from the 1964/65 World's Fair in Queens. I'd been inside once before, but this time I got to see a lot more—if only I could go back in time and see it in all of its Fair glory.

270/365: I passed this new-to-me ice cream truck on my walk home—I love the cones on the front, even if they are missing their ice cream.

271/365: I'm starting to catch the sunset on the end of my walk home each night. I love a good pink sky, but I'm not looking forward to it being dark when I get out work.

272/365: I had an Amazon credit and a gift card, so I ordered these very necessary plush sausage links. They're so cute I can almost not handle it and I also think I might need another set.

273/365: I noticed this cloud on my walk home—doesn't it look like a giant feather?

I've been having some Internet issues (ugh) and I have my second service appointment on Saturday morning, but my brand new stove is also being delivered that day, which is very exciting. On Sunday 92Y (my day job) is having its annual Street Fest and Francesca and I are the official photographers (at least we get overtime pay!). Kind of boring weekend plans, but we have next Thursday and Friday off work (Happy Sukkot!) and my mom and I are heading out on an epic road trip—to roadside attraction mecca South of the Border. She told me she wants to be surprised by our other stops, and I've packed so much into the four day trip that I'll be surprised if we can physically see them all. After a particularly humid few weeks, its finally starting to feel like fall is here to stay—have a great weekend!

Ohio

I lived in Ohio for 27 years, but it never really felt like home. Before I even visited New York, I knew I wanted to live here and as a result I feel as if I never truly invested much time into getting to know Ohio. I knew no matter how long it took me, I'd eventually leave, so what was the point in getting attached? Even though I got my license quite soon after turning 16, I never really took advantage of the freedom that having a car afforded me. In the four years since I've moved away, I've visited Ohio several times and have probably seen more of the state on those short visits than in all of the years that I lived there. 

On my most recent trip back to Ohio, after I had visited Achor Valley Cemetery, and while I was on my way to the World's Largest Cuckoo Clock, I was driving with my windows down and the radio up. I had no way to play my iPod in the Olds, so I was at the mercy of Northeast Ohio radio station Gods. They blessed me with a song from my all-time favorite 90s album, Jagged Little Pill right as I passed the Shortest Covered Bridge in the US.

I immediately turned around—the joys of a meandering road trip and a full free day!—to snap a few photos and refresh my limited knowledge of covered bridges (based entirely on Bridges of Madison County—the movie, of course). The bridge is no longer in use but has been standing in Colombiana County since the 1870s.

After we visited the World's Largest Teapot, my dad, grandma and I drove down the road to the Homer Laughlin outlet in Newell, West Virginia. The Homer Laughlin China company started in 1871 East Liverpool, Ohio, but moved to nearby Newell in the 1920s. The best part of the factory is actually outside—there's a huge pit where they throw the broken dishes and it killed me that it's surrounded by several, stern "No Trespassing" signs. 

They started producing the Fiesta line in 1936 and they were having a huge sale when we visited. Fiesta retails for $30+ a plate, but at the outlet you can get seconds for as little as a dollar. I love all of the colors and I wish I had enough room in my apartment to justify raiding the clearance bins—but my dad did buy me a piece of their Halloween collection that I literally could not have lived without.

I drove miles out of my way to go to Grandpa's Cheesebarn in Ashland, and while they aren't as free with their samples as Heini's Cheese Chalet, I did stock up on cheese, buckeyes, puppy chow and wasabi peas. They do have a squished penny machine—I got the cheese with eyes design—and I love their huge "Cheesebarn" sign.

I also fit in a visit to Mary Coyle, the cutest ice cream parlor where time seemingly stopped in the 1940s. I had an exquisite (and huge!) root beer float that proved my theory that judging a restaurant by its sign is never a bad idea. 

But the standout of the entire trip just might be the incredible tombstone that my dad showed me while we were out walking his dog. It's in a field with two other regular stones in what is apparently a potter's field for an institution that is long gone. I can't think of a better stone I've seen in all of my cemetery exploits than "unknown skeletal remains." 

I'm continually annoyed with myself that I seemingly squandered so much of the time I spent living in Ohio not properly exploring, but it's nice to feel as if I have an entirely new state to explore every time I go home. 

Recent Reads

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Gulp: Adventures on the Alimentary Canal, by Mary Roach

Stiff is one of my all-time favorite books (I've read it twice, and will probably read it again someday), but somehow this is only the second Mary Roach book I've read. I've owned Spook ever since I worked at W. W. Norton and made use of my 70% discount (Roach is a Norton author), and Gulp sat on my shelf for a few years before I finally started it. Roach is famous for her ability to write about science and strange topics with wit and a million humorous footnotes and I'm sure she could make almost anything seem interesting. Gulp is about the wonders of the digestive system (a subject I already find fascinating) and I was a little grossed out, a little surprised and realized that I'm probably wasting my sensitive nose not being a professional taste-tester.

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Into the Water by Paula Hawkins

I devoured The Girl on the Train (the movie was just ok), so I had high hopes for Paula Hawkins's second thriller. Into the Water, about a small England town plagued with suicides (or are they murders??) and shady, unreliable narrators, kept me just as interested (and in the dark) as The Girl on the Train. Although I did eventually figure it out, surprise-averse me simultaneously loves and hates books that keep me guessing—I was so frustrated by Gone Girl that I flipped forward just so I could spoil the twist and relax while I kept reading (I'm a monster, I know). I read so many borderline-dry medical and nonfiction books that a novel like this feels like a palate cleanser for my brain and I eagerly await her next book (and the inevitable Into the Water movie).

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Prospect Park West, by Amy Sohn

I found this book in the dollar section of the Strand, and bought it based solely on its title. I still lived in Brooklyn at the time, and Prospect Park West was my regular running route. I didn't expect this novel to be high brow classic literature, and I love the occasional gossipy fluff book (especially ones about New York). Unfortunately this book was just mostly trash, and not the entertaining kind. I enjoyed the neighborhood references, and it did make me miss living so close to Prospect Park, but the characters are reprehensible and mostly uninteresting despite Sohn's attempts at writing provocatively (the opening chapter has a mother masturbating while her young daughter is napping).

I can't remember the last book I disliked as viscerally as this one, and I slogged through it hoping for some conclusion, which unfortunately never came. I was tempted to leave the book on the subway platform where I finished it or donate it to one of those little free libraries in Park Slope, but it seemed mean to thrust this garbage book onto another unsuspecting Brooklynite.

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The Lonely City: Adventures in the Art of Being Alone, by Olivia Laing

I saw this book on Goodreads and reserved it at the library based only on the title. I've always been a lonely person—even when I'm in a relationship and surrounded by good friends—but I've never really thought much about lonliness as a state of being. This book was different than I expected, and it took a while before I was fully invested, but the different artists that she presents as case studies in loneliness—Andy Warhol, Henry Darger, David Wojnarowicz and others—were so fascinating that I'm glad it wasn't a dry, scientific explanation of the mechanics of loneliness, but something much deeper.

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Morgue: A Life in Death, by Vincent Di Maio and Ron Franscell

Vincent Di Maio, MD is the son of a famous New York City medical examiner and a forensics expert himself, who consulted on some fascinating and famous cases including the Trayvon Martin shooting, the exhumation of Lee Harvey Oswald and an investigation into the possibility that Vincent Van Gogh didn't commit suicide, but was accidentally murdered. I flew through this book, and I've read lot of similar collections but this was definitely one of the best (up there with Working Stiff). Di Maio does sound a bit full of himself and self righteous at times, but he has the credentials to back him up. The cases themselves—the infamous as well as the ones I'd never heard of before—are all fantastic mysteries, and he retells them with such detail that you almost forget these are real people and real crimes.

Wave Hill

After filling up on meats at Liebman's Deli in the Bronx, Jess and I walked about 25 minutes west to Wave Hill. Wave Hill is a public garden and cultural center overlooking the Hudson River. Wave Hill house was built in 1843 as a country home and over the years Teddy Roosevelt and Mark Twain both spent time at the estate. In 1903, it was purchased by a partner at J.P. Morgan and he added greenhouses and shaped the surrounding grounds. In 1960, Wave Hill was deeded to the city and today it's one of 33 city-owned cultural institutions.  

I didn't know much about Wave Hill, but I thought it was harder to get to than it actually is—in fact, we were right by it back in January when we explored Fieldston and Riverdale. It's accessible by Metro North but it's only a 30-minute walk from the 1 train and they have a free shuttle that picks you up/drops you off by the 242nd Street stop. The Bronx sometimes gets a bad rap, but I've always loved the time I've spent there. Now that I live in Harlem again, it's just a few subway stops away and there are still so many places on my list to explore.

There wasn't much to see at Wave Hill besides the gardens, but it was the perfect place to spend a leisurely, warm and sunny Saturday. It wasn't very crowded, but we did see several couples taking wedding information tours, and Wave Hill seems like the kind of place built exclusively for weddings. 

The greenhouses were packed full of succulents, cacti and the biggest air plants I've ever seen—every blogger's Instagram dream—and it would be a lovely place to escape to on a snowy winter day (Wave Hill is open year-round). I always feel so restored by city adventures like this—exploring someplace new that feels worlds away but it only takes a few subway stops before I'm home again. 

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Wave Hill
Tuesday-Sunday, 9am-5:30pm
West 249th Street and Independence Avenue
Bronx, New York

Project 365: Days 260-266

260/365: I went to Goodwill on my lunchbreak and resisted buying this entire tub of army men (but I did get two books I definitely don't need).

261/365: My former roommate (and current friend) Jess and I went to Wave Hill in the Bronx. It was a beautiful day to leisurely stroll the gardens and it felt like we were much farther from the city than we actually were.

262/365: I watched Gilmore Girls until nearly 3pm (so long I got the judgy "Are you still watching?" message from Netflix) but I finally got off my couch and took a walk on the High Line. Afterwards I walked to get a Slurpee through the West Village and spotted this sidewalk carving. I wonder where Andy and David are now and what their lives were like back in 1987 New York.

263/365: It's the most wonderful time of the year!

264/365: I ordered a case of Zapp's Voodoo chips because they're sort of hard to find and they're the best chips, hands down. Also, how cute is that Mustard hot dog plush that my friend Shannon got me for my birthday? He's a much better roommate than Mozart.

265/365: My mom got me these beakers on super sale at Michael's and I'm trying to grow some lil plant bebes (fingers crossed!).

266/365: Those ears!

Liebman's Delicatessen

Last night marked the beginning of Rosh Hashanah, or the Jewish New Year. It's the start of year 5778, and it's the first of the Jewish High Holy days. I am not Jewish, but for the past three years I've worked at the 92nd Street Y, a Jewish cultural organization on the Upper East Side. We're not associated with the YMCA, but we have similar programs—a gym, nursery school, talks, concerts and adult education classes. Because we are a YMHA/YWHA (Young Men + Women's Hebrew Association), in addition to our standard vacation and government holidays, we also get 10+ Jewish holidays off work per year.

David and I are going camping with his kids upstate today (New York City schools are also closed today and tomorrow), but last weekend my friend Jess and I spent the day in Riverdale in the Bronx. Our main destination was Wave Hill, but we decided to meet at Liebman's Delicatessen. Liebman's has been family-owned since it opened in 1953, and was once one of hundreds of Kosher delis in the neighborhood. Now it's one of the last ones standing, and it's definitely worth the trek (it's about a 10-minute walk from the 1 train).

I had a very homogenous upbringing near Akron, Ohio and we barely ever made the hour trip to Cleveland. One of the things I love most about New York is the ability to experience so many different cultures, and the Jewish deli feels quintessentially New York. Liebman's felt more authentic and significantly less touristy than Katz's—in fact, there was only one other person eating alongside us at 11am on a Saturday morning. Jess ordered the pastrami and I ordered a salami omelette—which were both delicious—but I'll be dreaming about that pickle plate for many years to come. 

Happy New Year to those of you who celebrate and happy free days off to those of you who don't, but work at Jewish organizations!

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Liebman's Delicatessen
Open every day 9am-10pm
552 W 235th Street
Bronx, NY 10463

You've Got Mail

"Don't you love New York in the fall? It makes me want to buy school supplies. I would send you a bouquet of newly sharpened pencils if I knew your name and address. On the other hand, this not knowing has its charms."

You've Got Mail came out nearly 20 years ago and I still remember seeing it at the theater with my grandparents. I've since seen it countless times—and forced David to watch it for the first time a few weeks ago. It's my go-to comfort movie whenever I'm sick or on a plane (or both). Sure the AOL-centric premise feels dated now, but I'm a sucker for Nora Ephron's words and the magic of New York (especially in the fall). Luckily, most of the movie was shot on location on the Upper West Side, and despite the fact that this city is constantly changing, you can still party like it's 1998—even if you can no longer get an H&H bagel or grab a children's book at the Shop Around the Corner.

Kathleen Kelly's Apartment, 328 West 89th Street and Riverside Drive

Verdi Square, W 72nd and Broadway

Starbucks, 2252 Broadway at W 81st Street

Shop Around the Corner (never a book shop, but now a cleaners) 106 W 69th Street (just around the corner from Columbus Avenue).

Zabar's, 2245 Broadway at W 80th Street

Gray's Papaya, 2090 Broadway at W 72nd Street

Cafe Lalo, 201 W 83rd St (closest to Amsterdam Ave)

Barney Greengrass, 541 Amsterdam Ave between W 86th and 87th Streets

91st Street Garden, Riverside Park at 91st Street

"But I just want to say that all this nothing has meant more to me than so many... somethings."

Virginia Kendall

Despite having spent 27 years living in Ohio, I didn't get out and enjoy all of Ohio's natural delights nearly as much as I should have. Ohio is home to the Cuyahoga Valley National Park—comprising 32,572 acres—and I grew up only a few miles away. One place I did visit frequently was Virginia Kendall and I walked the ledges loop often with my dad, friends and alone. Millions of years ago (!!) fast-moving streams flowed into an inland sea covering Ohio, carrying sand, gravel and quartz pebbles that compacted over time and formed the ledges. 

I fell short trying to think about "Ohio" things to show David on his first visit to my home state (my list began and ended with lunch at Swensons) but then the ledges hike popped into my head and I knew it was perfect—David loves hikes and physical challenges of all kinds. The ledges loop isn't exactly a physical challenge, but it was nice to walk—after a few days of being back in car-centric Ohio I have to remind myself to keep moving my body.

I loved showing David around my hometown, but it was definitely weird to have my New York life and my Ohio life collide. I have this bizarre fear every time I go back home that my entire New York life has somehow been a dream and I never actually left Ohio. Having David there was a good physical reminder that my New York life is definitely real, and I kept saying that I wished for a way for us to go back in time and tell my teenage and early-20s self that everything really was going to work out, eventually. A large portion of my Virginia Kendall walks were angsty and alone—I wrote endlessly in a journal and confided in friends, but there's nothing like a contemplative nature walk to set your mind straight (for a while, at least).

World's Largest Cuckoo Clock

After exploring Achor Valley Cemetery and refueling at the Steel Trolley Diner, I headed to Sugarcreek, Ohio to see the World's Largest Cuckoo Clock. Sugarcreek, or the "Little Switzerland of Ohio," is part of a few towns that growing up we just referred to as Amish Country due to their large Amish and Mennonite populations. We used to take day trips there all the time when I was a kid and my mom had a crafts business—I've always loved any place where you can sample myriad dips, cheeses and chocolates.

The World's Largest Cuckoo Clock was built in 1972, and featured on the cover of the Guinness Book of World Records in 1977. It appears as if other clocks have since eclipsed its "World's Largest" status, but it's probably the biggest one I'll ever see and is certainly the biggest one in Ohio. The clock was commissioned by the family that ran the Alpine Alpa Restaurant, in Wilmont Ohio, and the clock was moved to Sugarcreek when the restaurant closed in 2009. The working clock is 23 feet tall and 24 feet wide and on the half hour a cuckoo bird pops out along with a Swiss polka band and a dancing couple.

Luckily, I arrived with only a few minutes to spare until 3pm and downtown was deserted on a Monday afternoon. Of course about 30 seconds before the hour, people seemingly emerged from nowhere to watch the clock, but I was still able to get a (mostly) unobstructed video of the clock working its magic.

I have a problem keeping clocks in my apartment because the ticking drives me insane, but I've always loved cuckoo clocks. They're whimsical, intricately carved works of art and their mechanics fascinate me. I once bought a cuckoo clock as a Christmas gift and kept it in the trunk of my car. Not realizing that it would still work fully (no electricity or batteries required), it cuckoo'd while its intended recipient was in the car and the surprise was (hilariously) ruined.

Sugarcreek is a tiny town but it's full of Swiss-style buildings with beautifully painted facades. A handful of the businesses even have scenes that include moving parts—like a train going through the snowy mountains—that have always reminded me of the mountain climber in the Cliffhangers game on the Price is Right. 

Project 365: Days 253-259

253/365: This idiot still loves her new toy and still howls at me every single morning.

254/365: We went to Governors Island and David brought a kite. My initial thought was "what is the point to flying a kite," because I'm a monster but it turned out to be oddly relaxing and mesmerizing. 

255/365: My mom and I saw the Acro Cats (and the Rock Cats, aka the world's only cat band) in Brooklyn. I didn't get many great photos but this drummer killed me.

256/365: I went to Brooklyn Bridge Park to photograph the Tribute in Light on 9/11.

257/365: I bought this very necessary contact case and didn't realize until I first used it that there's no indication which is the left or right contact (still worth it).

258/365: I spotted these pretty mums on my walk home. I'm so excited for fall, although it got warm and humid again this week which is not cute.

259/365: I walked through the park and spotted this bird in the Harlem Meer. There was also a woman walking a cat on a leash, and the cat was very interested in this creature.

I've been quite busy at work this week, which makes the time goes fast but is also mentally exhausting. I have plans to go to Wave Hill tomorrow with my old roommate (and current friend) Jess, and I'm always angling to squeeze in a diner breakfast where I can. We had some very lovely fall-like weather recently, but this week has gone back to being swampy. I saw some leaves starting to change in the park today, though, so fall is imminent! Have a great weekend!

Bubba Gump Shrimp Co.

Despite our less-than-ideal dining experience at Guy's American Kitchen, the four of us had fun and decided to continue to eat our way through Times Square chain restaurants (because why not?). Next on the list was Bubba Gump Shrimp Company, one of forty locations around the world. As the name suggests, Bubba Gump is a restaurant based entirely on a few scenes from the 1994 Tom Hanks movie, Forrest Gump. Is this a tenuous connection for an international restaurant chain? Definitely. Is it just strange enough that I was actually excited for my first Bubba Gump experience? You bet.

I'm happy to report that overall, our experience was leaps and bounds above Guy's, which in retrospect, was a very low bar. We did have to briefly wait on line on a Tuesday night despite several visibly empty tables, but Bubba Gump doesn't take reservations (Guy's does, but it's unnecessary). Our waiter seemed confused and took us on a mini tour of the restaurant before settling us in a booth, but it was smooth sailing after that. 

Two of the four of us don't eat seafood (myself included), but there were a few non-shrimp options on the menu. But first, we ordered drinks (all in souvenir cups) and were pleased that they all tasted 1. like something at all and 2. like they had alcohol in them. We ordered the popcorn shrimp appetizer, and while it was bit smaller than we expected it was actually hot and crispy and I will bend my no seafood rules for anything deep fried and slathered in enough dipping sauce. 

I ordered a cheeseburger and fries, and while it wasn't life-changing it tasted exactly as a burger should (and didn't arrive with a cryptically-burned top bun). For dessert, we went with the chocolate chip cookie sundae, reasoning that every chain restaurant we try should have some version of this and of course we're doing this all for Science and understand completely how control groups work. The cookie was hot and gooey and crunchy and the ice cream didn't taste like freezer burn but of actual vanilla. The only scary part of the meal is the calorie count that businesses with 15 or more franchises are required to post here in New York, but I'm getting good at willfully ignoring those (anything for Science!).

The Times Square location of Bubba Gump is huge, but by the time we left there was line out the door. At one point our waitress asked us where were visiting from, and we said "oh, we live here." She mentioned that most of the Bubba Gump patrons are from other countries, and that was definitely true of the night we were there. In the gift shop (of course there's a gift shop) they have a squished penny machine and I mesmerized a group of people speaking a language I didn't recognize by squishing a penny with their signature fancy shrimp design. 

The fact that Bubba Gump still exists (or was ever conceived of in the first place) is fascinating to me, and it's such an odd thing on which to base an entire restaurant franchise but it somehow works. Forrest Gump was a huge movie, of course, but it's not an iconic world like Star Wars or Harry Potter—maybe I'm the only one who has ever thought so long and deeply about the Bubba Gump brand? 

The food was exactly what we expected, it was cheaper and had twice the flavor of anything we choked down in "Flavor Town," and the atmosphere was unabashedly joyful. It doesn't make sense that a restaurant based on a few minutes of a movie that premiered 23 years ago is serving better food than the flagship restaurant of a famous chef, but maybe you shouldn't try to make much sense out of a restaurant whose logo is a shrimp in a top hat.

I ♥ NY

I was 16 on September 11th, 2001. It was a new 16, and a new school year—my junior year of high school. I was in Spanish class when the first plane hit the North tower of the World Trade Center, and we watched the news coverage live, unsure at first if it was accidental or a deliberate attack. I remember thinking only of myself—as most 16-year-olds can be forgiven for doing—and how my dream of moving to New York appeared to crumble on live TV.

Of course the attacks didn't prevent me from moving, and in fact the city had more than rebounded by the time I finally did move, 11 years later. But I remember what I wore that day—a stretchy green top made from a glittery fabric (I was 16! It was 2001!) and a rainbow ribbon belt. I remember coming home from school and dramatically exclaiming to my parents, "it's World War III!" I remember working that night in the McDonald's drive-thru and noting that everyone that came through the drive thru had special, evening editions of the newspaper (remember those!) laying on their front seats.

I remember visiting New York in February of 2002—my second visit—to see the Rosie O'Donnell show, and the overwhelming grief that was still on display all over the city—on fences and in churches and in the air. I didn't know anyone in the city at the time, and most of the people I know now moved here after, like me. But I remember meeting loved ones at the airport gate, and breezing through security without having to take off my shoes. I remember campaigning in college for John Kerry, sure that he would beat George W. Bush and feeling political defeat personally for the first time, when he did not.

I remember when people referred to the under-construction World Trade Tower as the Freedom Tower, and I remember when you had to have a ticket to visit the memorial reflecting pools. I remember finally moving to New York and seeing the Welcome to New York sign at La Guardia and knowing that I was finally home. I remember the glee I felt upon realizing that I could (barely) see the Statue of Liberty from my Brooklyn apartment. I remember weeping through the 9/11 museum on opening night, and again when my dad came to visit.

I didn't lose anyone on 9/11 but all of us are changed by it. I've always loved this city—even before I visited—and it will always be my first love. I love all that has come before me, the people and places and moments that make this city a living, breathing thing. This city was my spiritual home before it was my physical one, and I am profoundly sad for all of its misery and at the same time madly hopeful for all its unbridled joy.

Steel Trolley Diner

My recent solo mini-road trip of Ohio started off only having one destination—the Achor Valley Cemetery—but quickly evolved into a whole day trip. It was only noon when I finished exploring Achor Valley, I had no other plans for the day and free use of my dad's car. I was having fun driving through rural Ohio with the windows down and the radio up (no iPod connections in the old, Oldsmobile) and I was eager to see as much as I could.

After Achor Valley I decided to go to Sugarcreek, nearly two hours west. I opted for the scenic route through back roads rather than highways, and Google maps took me right through Lisbon, Ohio. Lisbon is a tiny town in Eastern Ohio (in 2010 the population was 2,821)—it was the home of the first Ohio newspaper, hosts a music festival dedicated to the Appalachian dulcimer and is the name of an instrumental Bon Iver song. It is also the home of the Steel Trolley Diner, and as soon as I saw it I knew it was the perfect place to stop for lunch.  

The Steel Trolley Diner was built In 1954 in Elizabeth, New Jersey by the Jerry O'Mahoney Company, one of the largest diner manufacturers in the US. In 1955 it was moved to Salem, Ohio where it operated for 24 years as Aldom's Diner and in 1979, the diner was moved again to it's current location in Lisbon. 

The Steel Trolley diner is just that—a steel dining car—and the interior has everything I look for in a classic diner. I sat at the counter since I was alone, which is my favorite way to experience a diner. I texted my dad to let him know where I was, and he responded that he had eaten here twice and added "I think they use cheap ground beef!" so I ordered a hot dog. It had horsey mayo (is this an Ohio thing??), mustard and sriracha and it was delicious—when I took a photo, the cook turned around and said "It sure is a nice looking hot dog, isn't it?"

This type of diner is nearly extinct in New York City, but they're also endangered in small towns like this—depressed rust belt towns that are rapidly losing their populations to bigger cities and drug overdoses—but I'm glad that the Steel Trolley Diner is still serving baskets of real fries, hot dogs and questionable ground beef 24 hours a day.