City Boy » new york

Laundry tales

Amortya Ray — Mon, 19 Jul 2010 13:57:19 +0000

So remember how I’m like the king of awkward moments? Yep. The following is another similar embarrassing incident that will forever be etched in my wretched mind.

Rewind to a few years ago. Circa 2007. I was a lowly graduate student in New York City. Barely making ends meet. Living paycheck to paycheck. Had no more than $35 in my checking account. And the cardinal rule of graduate school is that you do not do laundry until absolutely necessary. And by absolute necessary I mean that until you completely run out of clean underwear. It was one such night. I had a job interview the next morning. And no clean clothes. At 11 in the night, I decide that it would be a good time to do laundry. So I grab my hamper and head down to the basement, drop it in the washer, come back in 30 minutes to put them in the dryer. As I’m dumping my soggy clothes into the dryer, through the corner of my eye I notice my neighbor starting her washer cycle. About half an hour later, I’m back in the basement to pick up my clothes. Neighbor lady is waiting for me to empty the lone dryer (it was a pre-war, rent-controlled building and cheapass landlord so 40 apartments had to share 2 washers and 1 dryer) so she can start her dryer cycle. And as luck would have it, my clothes aren’t completely dry. I mutter the classiest of swear words as I prepare to kick off another dryer cycle. Neighbor lady goes all sigh-ey and complains about how she had an early morning meeting and it was getting late. And the good samaritan that I am, I offer her to share the dryer with me. Lady jumps at the opportunity to save an hour of her time, drops her clothes with mine and leaves.

About half an hour later, we meet again in the basement. We separate our clothes and go our own ways. Later, when I’m folding my own clothes, I see that she left a bra behind in my pile. Now I could either trash it and let it be at that. But then I do know that bras don’t come cheap. But I really don’t want to be the one handing it over to her. Because, well, that would just be awkward. So what do I do? I decide to leave it on her door knob, ring the bell and vanish the fuck out of there before she opens the door. Pleased at my genius plan, I tiptoe over to her apartment (very conveniently, she happened to live right next door), and am about to leave the bra on the doorknob. And before I could get to doing that, her door opens, and neighbor girl stares at me with a judgey look in her eyes and her bra in my hand. Awkward with a capital A. Avoiding all eye contact, I hand over the goods and turn around and close the door to my apartment.

I avoided her like the plague for the remaining 6 months I lived in that building.

Midweek shenanigans

Amortya Ray — Thu, 28 Jan 2010 13:42:42 +0000

Few things in life are better than getting wasted on a Wednesday evening. Very few things.

So I attended a charity event this evening in New York. It was a fundraiser for an organization called SAYA that is devoted to benefiting South Asian kids from New York City. It was hosted at a club called Greenhouse. All through the week, my friends and me kept discussing over email whether this event was worth our totally precious time, because we’re like all so awesome and like all so busy and oh did I mention that we’re all so awesome that our time is worth like a gigaazzilion bullions of platinum. One of the reasons, we did decide to attend the event was that Greenhouse is an extremely exclusive club and most regular people don’t ever manage to get in. So that being decided, we grab a platter from the dude on 53rd and 6th and hop onto the E train downtown.

The mandatory image that, I realize, adds no value to my writing

The place was exactly how I imagined it would be. Very sleek, excellent ambience and the most ridiculously expensive half priced drinks that made me feel like I was selling my soul to pay for. The crowd was primarily Indian, because, well it was a South Asian Youth event. So yah. Now the reason I have a dismal record at talking to women at bars/clubs is because I feel the need to have a lot of quiet around me to hold a meaningful conversation. Or even to exchange a word. Or two. Now the DJ at the club was real good, but too goddamn loud for a networking event. I mean COME ON! If I’m supposed to mingle with people, AT LEAST LET ME HEAR THEM SPEAK! So I manage to introduce myself after having gotten close enough to make out with the fungus that grows on the wax in her ears, I go like, “What do you think of this place?” and she’s yells, “Vodka and cranberry juice”, and I go, “Hmm.. Okay.” WTF.

After that I’m like, “Screw it. Where’s my drink?” And that is when the awesomeness got cranked up to the max. Because after my Long Island, most of the evening flew by in a wonderful haze that I can barely recall. Except the part when I’m talking to a friend and I’m all, “Hey! Why are you wearing pants?” YES! I’m the undisputed champion of awkward moments.

Lost in Transcription

Amortya Ray — Thu, 31 Dec 2009 23:45:27 +0000

I was meeting a friend for dinner yesterday and it was the one thing I was looking forward to in an otherwise mundane day. Said friend leaves me a voicemail message confirming the appointment and Google Voice picks it up for me. I get an email with the message transcribed. Here’s what the email said:

Google avoid Bailey. Okay, so I am on the train heading out of I. D and she gave me about 25 minutes to get you want and if it’s good and maybe another month rent. Another thing, and 130 minutes of each show, you can just so kind of speculate about an hour from now. I need to get to follow up with the okay, so I’ll give me a call when I get out of the subway. Alright, see you there. Bye.

So I’m all what the fuck? Google screwed up? What am I going to do now? I thought they knew everything about my life? Now I have to figure out where to go ALL BY MYSELF!? I start attempting to decode the message. No dice. I finally give up and just walk down to Trader Joes, where my friend was planning to go. Why, really? Cause cheap wine is awesome. Not as awesome as Bailey’s. Because Bailey’s is fucking awesome.

So we hop on to the green line and head to Ravagh and our lovely waitress tells us that they didn’t have any lamb shank. And I’m like get out of my face already lady!? What did you just say? No lamb shank? What do I do now? I HAVE NO REASON TO LIVE. I was devastated. So after settling for some kebobs, and an appetizer and some non-shanky lamb stew, both of which had the word bademjan in it and contained inordinately large amounts of eggplant, we got done with the meal. But I’m still upset that we didn’t get the lamb shank. And especially mad because my friend didn’t get to try it since I’d been raving about it for the longest time.

Later last night, it hits me that I can listen to the message. That’s right, lissssennn to the message. After the unnecessarily long period when I felt like a total dumbass for not knowing this, I play the message. Here’s what she REALLY said:

Google Voice, really? Okay, so I’m on the train heading out of White Plains and it will take me about 25 minutes to get to 125th street and another 30 minutes maybe to reach Union Square, so kind of calculate about an hour from now for me to get to 14th street. Okay? I’ll give you a call when I get out of the subway. Alright, see you there. Bye.

Google, as awesome as you really are, and as much as I blindly trust you with pretty much every itsy-bitsy bit of information about life (not like I have a choice), its about time you got your shit together and transcribe my voicemails correctly. I’m at a point in life where machines help me make most of my decisions, and NO ONE TAKES THAT AWAY FROM ME!

A bite of heaven

Amortya Ray — Thu, 03 Dec 2009 11:30:16 +0000

Several people in my social circle have been raving about a certain Magnolia Bakery in New York City for the longest time. It has three locations in New York, of which one was located a block away from my workplace at the time. Magnolia Bakery, I was told, makes some of the yummiest cupcakes in the world. My buddy at work compared each bite to little pieces of soft, spongy cloud that float down your esophagus, warming your stomach lining like a kisses from an angel.

A little less than a year ago, the same coworker, at the fag end of the day, has a sudden craving for cupcakes, and drags me down the block to said bakery. The outlet at Rockefellar Center is a tiny hole in the wall with barely enough space for more than 10 people to stand. I wasn’t impressed. Strike 1. We stepped in, and from a variety of assortments that appeared to be atleast a day old, I chose a cupcake, that looked the least stale of all. In all fairness, I could see people pulling a fresh batch of cakes from the oven. Maybe it just wasn’t my day. Hence, strike 2. And, finally I felt it was rather dry and nothing out of the ordinary. Strike 3.

From that day onwards, I’ve been avoiding the place like the plague. When tourists and other ask me for my opinion about the place, I rip it apart. All of that changed today.

A few coworkers decided to stop by the place for dessert after lunch. They claimed that the Magnolia banana pudding is out of this world. The group I was with was completely and totally raving about this pudding. I narrated my sorry experience with the cupcake, and while they did agree that their cupcakes aren’t the best around, the banana pudding is goddamn unbelievable. And even though the banana is my least favorite fruit, I decided to give the place another chance. And while in line to pay, I scrapped a tiny portion of the lid and tasted it- and I was SOLD! Magnolia Bakery had come of age. Magnolia Bakery had redeemed itself. I savored each bite of this outrageously delightful pudding with the glee of a 5 year old child riding his bike for the first time with its training wheels off. As I was polished off the last remnants of what is probably the best pudding ever, the guy who sits right next to me said to the others, “Let him eat guys. His eyes are quite literally popping out. He’s in love!”. Enough said. Tourists and New Yorkers, try it out for yourself.

A Midsummer Update

Amortya Ray — Thu, 09 Jul 2009 13:51:14 +0000

A few noteworthy observations about my life these past few months-

Relegated to the Jersey office, for what I hope will be a temporary thing. I miss my city, I miss it’s ever so vibrant nature, I miss my Chicken Shahi Korma from Minar, I miss being crushed in the train to work in the mornings.
I absolutely adore my new friends here. I have finally managed to maintain a decent balance between the professional and the personal. M, m and V- you guys rock! More on them in due course.
The corner couches at the Hyatt in Exchange Place are henceforth forever reserved for me and my crew. Fridays are generally spent in anticipation of the evenings where we vent the week’s frustrations to each other on possibly the best mojitos in all of New Jersey.
Walking along New York’s Fifth Ave. on a beautiful summer afternoon is delightfully sinful. The Louis Vuitton store has some of the most ridiculously priced jackets I’ve ever seen! However, spending a month’s salary on a single piece of clothing is just not unacceptable.
It’s amazing how quickly time can pass in a bookstore. As a skinny, young boy in South Bombay, I remember begging my parents to take me to the Crossword store at the Mahalaxmi Temple on Sunday evenings. I’d end up spending hours and hours pouring over books and wondering how cool it’d be to own a library. I got that familiar feeling when I visited the Borders bookstore a few weeks back. Came home with a NYT bestseller.
The goal for the near future is to stay as busy as possible. Keeping myself occupied would be beneficial in several ways. For one, I get to meet new people. For someone like me who grew up in a big city, my life story is completely and totally different from someone who spent their entire life living in the a palatial house overlooking a gorgeous yard in a small town in North India!
I’m starting to realize the joys of drinking wine.
Murphy at work: Less than a day after signing the lease to my new apartment, I meet my current neighbor face-to-face for the first time in a year and half. And yes, she’s jaw-dropping gorgeous.
Learning to dress sharper.
Reconnecting with old, long lost friends. Totally. And disconnecting from others who no longer matter.

That’s it for now, folks.

Dear Mr. NYC Cab Driver

Amortya Ray — Mon, 29 Jun 2009 20:59:24 +0000

Dear Mr. NYC Cab Driver,

In the remote chance that you do happen to come across my message on twitter, and happened to visit this site, I formally welcome you to Amortya’s blog. You picked me and 2 other buddies of mine from the corner of 34th and 1st Ave on Saturday night. And dropped us off at Herald Square on 34th Street exactly at 10:02 pm where I paid using my credit card and generously tipped you. I believe that I left my sunglasses in the backseat of your vehicle. I understand that you don’t know me, and probably don’t give a flying fuck about me or my sunglasses, but I would really appreciate it if you’d return my sunglasses to me. The summer Gods have finally decided to shine their awesome glory on the greatest city in the world, and it would be absolutely criminal to be spotted without my extremely well-fitting eye wear.

So have some pity on me and contact me. I promise that I will reimburse you for any expenses that you might have incurred in the process of keeping of my beloved glasses safe.

Best,

~me

Summer Bummer

Amortya Ray — Mon, 22 Jun 2009 18:33:41 +0000

It’s nearing the end of June, and here in New York, it still doesn’t feel like its summer. Its been raining incessantly ever since the weather changed to non-winter-jacket-wearing levels. It’s bad enough that we had a rather prolonged winter this year, but this is ridiculous. I wonder what needs to be done to appease the summer Gods to show us some mercy.

On the other hand, the present weather conditions take me back to the time I used to live with my parents, back in Mumbai, India. Unlike here in the US, where it can potentially rain anytime of the year, India has three whole months dedicated to the monsoon. Four years ago, on the 26th of July, the coastal city of Mumbai was brought to its knees in a powerful deluge that swept through the city. Back then, I was was in my senior year, studying in suburban college. Although my parents lived a short 10 minute ride from my college, nevertheless it took me 2 hours to wade home in waist high water. And this year, the geniuses at the weather bureau, finally got their act together and issued a weather alert. So much so, that Bollywood actor Sanjay Dutt decided to cancel his 50th birthday party! Well, at least something seems to be working in the city’s favor. After last year’s horrific attacks, the people of Mumbai could use a break.

Having said that, I should add that June 21st, 1:45 am EST is considered to be the official start of the summer in the northern hemisphere. So here’s hoping that the onset of the summer solstice brings us New Yorkers some good luck and warm weather. There’s tons of things to look forward to this summer. Among them, we have the new Transformers movie, the GI Joe movie, Saif-Deepika’s new movie Love Aaj Kal, Shahid’s new movie Kaminay and Dan Brown’s new novel The Lost Symbol. Oh and yes, my move into my very own bachelor pad, my own studio! Rented, of course, but mine nonetheless.

Friday night debauchery

Amortya Ray — Sat, 20 Jun 2009 17:51:15 +0000

Its funny how you end up discovering the greatest spots in New York City at the unlikeliest of places. Last night, I hung out with my buddies at one such place.

The area between 31st and 36th streets between Fifth and Sixth Ave. is referred to as Koreatown. To the average tourist, it looks a lot like the Chinatown area downtown. There are plenty of Korean restaurants in the area, some rather fancy hotels and of course for all of them Desi’s out there, there’s Kati Roll a few blocks north. And bang in the middle of Fifth and Sixth on 32nd street, is a little hotel called La Quinta. And on the top floor of the hotel, ladies and gentlemen, I give you Me´Bar.

The moment I stepped in, I knew this was a place where a small group of people can sit comfortably, talk for hours at a stretch. This isn’t the place where you can go dancing. Me´is more of a place where you laze around, stretch your legs and enjoy the spectacular view of the Empire State Building. Yes, the ESB is so close that you feel like you can nearly touch it. The place looks a lot like the average roof deck in a high rise apartment building. No fancy furniture here. Just your plain old vanilla round tables with foldable chairs, and lots of pillows strewn along the white benches along the edges. The water tanks surrounding the place, give it a certain homely charm. Get here early and you can manage to secure a table or a corner spot along the perimeter, or else the wait might be long. The place was (quite obviously) packed on a Friday night.

The drinks are priced reasonably enough even for college students to frequent the place. The bartenders, despite being super busy, manage to have conversations with the patrons. And as with any good bar in the city, they are liberal with the amount of alcohol served in the drinks. Enough for you to walk out of the place with a nice buzz!

Me´Bar is one of those secrets of New York City, that many people, despite having lived here all their lives, don’t know about. With great power comes great responsibility, so my friend- spread the word with care.