Top 10 things about the New York subway

1. No need to purchase war-causing, ozone-destroying gasoline
2. Subway musicians
3. No parking woes
4. Watching the nonstop freak show
5. Temperatures 30 degrees higher than outside – tests your will to survive
6. Exercise
7. Being crammed into a metal box with people from all over the world
8. No traffic jams
9. Random conversations with complete strangers
10. Ease of eavesdropping

It would have been nice to be able to add “the absence of 20-year-old guys blasting bad hip-hop out of their lowrider Grand Marquis,” but eventually a guy climbed on the train, stereo in hand and of course, began to blast bad hip-hop at eardrum-breaking volume. Nobody said anything to him. The difference was there was no NPR to blast back in response before rolling the window up.

I wish there had been more subway musicians (it had to be the heat), but the ones I did encounter were talented and loud, and usually involved heavy percussion. There was the exception of the guy with the boombox whose “talent” was tossing his two young sons in the air in a moving train in hopes that people would be impressed by the fact that they landed on their feet. And the youngest one’s head only smacked the roof once. Needless to say, he did not collect many tips, but I do believe CPS followed him into the next car.

Only in New York could you meet up with a former Tucsonan, wander into a jam packed hipster diner with a Brazilian-themed menu that blasted David Bowie and fried up a delicious plantain. Mmm. After spending the day in the coolest bookstore ever (Strand) and discovering that the Staten Island ferry is free, it was off to Soho to explore the bars. Mr. Soho was bartending that evening and made the most delicious mojitos ever in a bar named Ideya that often hosts a live cumbia band. After closing, Mr. Soho brought us to another bar across the street which was remarkable not just for having delicious mojitos as well (the perfect summertime drink and they don’t scrimp on the mint in NYC), but also was bartended by the ghost of Freddie Mercury. Fortunately, he understood when I insisted on taking his photo as proof. He hasn’t aged a bit.

One of the revelations that I had about the bars and clubs of New York is that they are surprisingly laid back for such a big city. Compared to Los Angeles (and obviously, this is just one of five million differences), people seemed to go out to get out rather than go out and “be seen.” But perhaps we were just in the right places. Smiles came easily. Music on jukeboxes was fun and unpretentious (I have never heard so much vintage Michael Jackson in bars before). Nobody scoffed at me when I moonwalked to “Billie Jean” as was the case in LA. Bartenders were friendly and relaxed and offered you their bag of organic popcorn. Jenny, an actress, told me that in LA people only want to talk about acting and what they are doing, where in New York nobody talks about it at all.

No wonder indie comedian nerd/hero David Cross (on SubPop Records and of Mr. Show and Arrested Development fame) can rant for hours on how much he appreciates New York after living in LA for more than eight years. After hearing the points that Cross made about the city on his exceptional first comedy album Shut Up You Fucking Baby, I would like to point out:

There is an excess of beautiful girls and eccentric loonies and you do sometimes have to make a quick decision of which to gawk at. I chose the lunatics.

I did not actually see condoms all over the city streets of the Lower East Side as Cross described. Phew.

Nowhere in any pizza place did I ever see “pan-seared pea snaps” as a topping item.

Nor did I ever spot any flamboyant rollerbladers headed for the Chelsea Piers. Damn.

Do you ever find that you tend to relate too many things in life to specific songs? No place indulges this geeky neurotic compulsion more than New York. Everywhere you look there are landmarks and things that you’ve heard quoted in songs since childhood.

Seeing the name of the train you are riding will put a Beastie Boys song in your head. Being in the Theatre District reminds you of a million show tunes about 42nd Street and the like. Then there’s Sinatra, but personally I would have to say I’ve had a steady soundtrack of Beastie Boys on repeat in my brain since stepping out of La Guardia. This is not necessarily a bad thing but it does tend to brand you as a tourist if you tend to sing out loud.