What I’m going to miss

I’m going to miss Manhattan.

I’m going to miss the Upper West Side.

I’m going to miss the owner of my local dry cleaner, Ms. Kim, who has been in that store just about every time I’ve gone there in the past 15 years.

I’m going to miss the ability to get stone drunk, crawl into a cab, and be able to get safely home so long as I can properly recite my address. (I’ve always thought of getting a temporary tattoo on my forearm with my address on it, so I could just thrust my arm into the front seat and show it to him on particularly tough nights).

I’m going to miss the first really nice day of Spring, when the horrific winter weather breaks and everyone bolts into Central Park. The best park day of the year, because everyone is just so happy to be out of their apartments. And the crowdest, much more crowded than any summer weekend, since so many of those fools choose to drive five hours on Friday night to sit in what is actually a suburban house all weekend reading Hamptons magazine trying to find a hot party to go to and fooling themselves into thinking that they’re having a great time.

I’m going to miss being a 15 minute cab ride from the best live theater in the hemisphere.

I’m going to miss my neighbor Cindy, who owns the building next door to me, a four-story townhome that she bought in the early 70s for what she now gets every two months for renting the top two floors out.

I’m going to miss my wife’s “Menu book,” room service from like 50 restaurants, arranged by cuisine type (seriously).

I’m going to miss the mushroom veggie burger at the UWS Shake Shack, and regret that Danny Meyer didn’t open the damn place five years ago.

I’m going to miss going from a hot platform to a cold subway car.

I’m going to miss taking that subway car to Yankee stadium, 25 minutes from my apartment by the D, if you catch the trains right.

I’m going to miss the joy of seeing a new storefront opening up in the neighborhood, and peering into the windows to see what’s coming.

I’m going to miss going into Gin Mill on Amsterdam on football sundays to see the same group of guys, one of whom is the most dedicated displaced Eagles fan I’ve ever met.

I’m going to miss not going to museums. I’d like to say I go to museums, but…not so much.

Last, I’m going to miss telling people that I live in Manhattan, and feeling that this fact alone entitles me to a certain level of respect.

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Return from Exile: Another day, another screening

Manhattan is taunting me. I’ve lived here for 17 years, never went to a movie premiere screening. Then last week, I get to go see Grey Gardens premiere at the Zigfield. And then yesterday I got to go see a very funny comedy at the the Tribeca Film Festival called Timer. The reason? Another college friend in show business, this time my friend Christopher Wood acting in a quick role (there are no “small” roles…) at the beginning. His role was much too small for his talent, but it was still fun to see him on the big screen.

It was bad enough when Shake Shack opened on the Upper West side, right around the same day I put my apartment on the market. And then Time Warner added a ton more high definition stations to my cable lineup. But now Manhattan is just beating on me, sending me interesting things to do, the kind of things I never do, as sort of a “you’ll never have it this good” hate-screw to me.

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Why am I leaving Manhattan for the suburbs– I un-heart NYC???

Someone pointed me to two articles in the Sunday Post, asking if I was leaving because I am bearish on Manhattan, the real estate, or the general economy.  The first is a Post review of an economic report saying that New York is dead last in something called “economic outlook.” The Post calls it non-partisan, but it was written by the guy who created supply-side economics, so I think it’s probably got a viewpoint.

The second one is by Peggy Noonan, predicting a downsized world, where people forego cable and the internet and raise pigs and some such stuff.

And then the Post profiles a bunch of people who are leaving Manhattan to go to parts far away.  Places like Minnesota and West Virginia. 

Okay, let me make this clear. That’s not me. 

I’m not moving to West Virginia.

I’m not going to raise pigs.

More importantly, I’m not down on Manhattan.  Far from it.  I hate leaving.  Yes, I think that Manhattan real estate is probably going to go down in value for a period of time, although I priced my home to get it sold so I think my buyer got a pretty good deal. But that’s not why I’m leaving.

I’m leaving because I work out in the suburbs, and I’ve been commuting out there for seven years, and it’s finally gotten to me.  Plus, the stairs.  The damned stairs.  More about the stairs another time.

But I love Manhattan. And if it becomes a little more affordable for people, I think that’s a good thing.

What I’ll miss most — room service

This is going to be hard.

Just got home after a loooong day. The wife is out with some friends, so I have the place to myself. Perhaps there was a time when I’d go out and play some pool, actually interact with other human beings. But, again, it was a long day with a bunch of extra “o’s”, so all I want to do is collapse on a sofa. And no way I’m going to cook anything.

Which brings me to room service. Maybe the best unsung feature of urban living. Actually better than room service in any hotel in the country. I’ve literally got a notebook full of menus (the wife is crazy like that), probably 50 restaurants in my area that deliver, just about any cuisine you want. 14 types of Chinese food. Sushi, Italian, Jewish deli, Malaysian food, French, Thai (although we’re strangely a little lean on Thai food on the upper west side the last few years, and the closing of the Vietnamese place on 81st and Amsterdam was a tragedy on par with the Watchman movie).

(Quick aside — call up Penang.  Get the roti telur, ask for an extra side of the curry sauce. It’s like $2.  Also get some coconut rice.  When you’re done eating the Roti Telur, pour the sauce over the rice. Eat the rice.  Email me and tell me how much you love me for turning you on to this.)

Tonight it was onion soup and fettucini with short ribs from Bistro Citron, which is also a dependable place for mussels provencale. $25 bucks, plus tip (you gotta tip the delivery guys well, with the life they lead), 25 minutes tops, and I’m eating. I will miss this.

I don’t know why suburban restaurants don’t focus on delivery, but my guess is that they’re bound into the idea that people in the suburbs cook their dinners. I don’t know about that. Seems a little “Leave it to Beaver” for me. I work in the suburbs in a workplace that is 85% women, and when I’m there at 6PM with a lot of them I don’t get the impression that they’re on the way home to cook up a casserole. I already have a job, but I encourage some young entrepreneur to start one of those services that connects restaurants about to go out of business with suburban families eating their fourth Chinese delivery meal of the week.

UPDATE: looked up some places online, like this one.  But my guess is that they service only selected areas.  Alas!

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Return from Exile: A night at the movies

Right when I decide to move from the city to the suburbs, I have the kind of night that you can only have in a city — attending the premiere of the new HBO movie “Grey Gardens.” The premiere was at the Ziegfeld Theater in midtown, which is really one of my favorite movie theaters in the world.  Just a great old theater. I know it doesn’t have the stadium seating and I’m sure techie types will tell me you get a better picture and sound in your living room, but I really like it.

I should be clear that I don’t go to a lot of premieres.  This one was, now that I think about it, my first.  And the only reason I was at that one was that the director of the movie, Mike Sucsy, is a college friend, and he was kind enough to invite me and my wife.  The movie is absolutely terrific, particularly the performance by Drew Berrymore as Little Edie.  For those people who are fans of the documentary, the movie kind of fills in some of the gaps, explaining how Little Edie got pulled into the vortex of her mother’s, ummm, idiosyncracies.  And it was fun to be at the premiere, seeing the red carpet and the whole thing.  And free popcorn.

(The movie premieres on HBO on Saturday night, 8PM, April 18.)

Going to the Ziegfeld reminded me of some of my favorite New York City movie moments, to wit:

  • Going to see Independence Day on the weekend it opened in the middle of July 1996, only getting in to the midnight showing, getting drunk first, and later spilling out of the theater into the summer heat with a bunch of fired up humans hooting and hollering (spoiler alert: the humans win).  Come on, say it with me: “Today, we celebrate our Independence Day!”
  • Waiting on line at the Ziegfeld for opening weekend of Apollo 13, twisting all the way around 54th and 55th street, totally chaotic, getting to our seats half an hour after the movie was supposed to start because of the disorganization of the staff, and then finally the movie is supposed to start and they start with commercials (back when commercials at movies were still new), and people start booing and throwing things.  Ugly.
  • Numerous times when I have had altercations with people who annoyed me in a theater. I’m not a good row-mate, apparently.

Who’s Moving to the Suburbs? The Crips and Bloods, that’s who!

Now, this is certainly exciting news.  Who wants to live in an area bereft of some of the urban conveniences offered by gang colors, tags, hand signs, drive by shootings, and easy access to illegal drugs?  No one, that’s who!

So that’s why it’s such good news to hear about a recent FBI report that gangs are starting to expand into the suburbs.  Just like Starbucks!

Here’s what the FBI had to say:

“Gangs have long posed a threat to public safety, but as this study shows, gang activity is no longer merely a problem for urban areas. Gang members are increasingly moving to suburban America, bringing with them the potential for increased crime and violence,” said Assistant Director Kenneth W. Kaiser, FBI Criminal Investigative Division.

Talk about serious hipster credibility.  There are gangs in the suburbs.  Gangs!

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In the News: The Suburbs are cool — just ask Details Magazine

I know I’m on to something when I’m in agreement with a magazine that has pictures of hot women in it along with bodyspray ads.  As David Hochman in Details Magazine pointed out a few years ago, the suburbs can be cool, too. Here’s the money quote:

But in the past decade, the distinction between city and suburb has become blurred. “Commuter towns” in places like northern New Jersey, the eastern shore of Seattle’s Lake Washington, and Orange County, California—once considered cultural Siberia—are now filled with work-from-home hipsters who care about things like independent cinema and what Arianna Huffington has to say. Long-ignored suburban outposts are being rebuilt with cool arts facilities and retro-chic cafés. In short, the things we always thought we needed cities for—decent sesame noodles, fabulous eyewear, lesbians—are now available where once there were only Aunt Goldie and her mahjong group. . . .

“From a cultural standpoint, cities are becoming less interesting and the suburbs are increasingly where the action is,” says Joel Kotkin, author of The City: A Global History. “Partly because of the freedom the Internet gives us, but also because cities have become homogenized, inhospitable, and expensive beyond belief, people now live by the ethos of ‘everywhere a city,’ even if they’re in an outer ring, an outer-outer ring, or beyond.”

And since we’re talking about Suma, we even have an example in Dade Hayes, a writer, who moved from Manhattan to Larchmont (in Westchester):

After decades of living in New York and L.A., Dade Hayes, an editor and author, recently did the unthinkable: He bought a house in Larchmont, New York, a mile from where he grew up. “When I was a kid, Larchmont was a sleepy town where the most interesting restaurant was probably Charlie Brown’s,” he says. “Now there are late-night martini bars, a singles scene, an indie movie house a town over—and all without the glorious urine stench you get in Manhattan.”

Late night martini bars, an indie movie house, no urine stench?  Now, THAT’S what I’m talkin’ about!

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Why people don’t move to the suburbs — Bob Saget

Because the networks keep putting out sitcoms with people like Bob Saget or Jim Belushi in them.  ABC just premiered another horrific sitcom starring Bob Saget as what I can only imagine is a middle-aged suburban man with a wife much better looking than him and annoying neighbors and wise-beyond-their-years smart ass kids.

From the ABC website.  This sounds great!!!

In the family-centered tradition of Roseanne and Home Improvement, Surviving Suburbia opens the curtain to follow Bob Saget (How I Met Your Mother, Full House) and Cynthia Stevenson (Men in Trees, Dead Like Me) as Steve and Anne Patterson, a seemingly normal couple who have been married for 20 years, have two children and a cookie cutter house in the idyllic suburbs. But Steve maintains a rather cynical point of view on family, friends, neighbors, society — pretty much everyone and everything — as he tries to survive suburban life.

Surviving Suburbia takes a contemporary look at family life and the reasons one might have to question the system — How does exchanging keys with a neighbor for emergencies result in house sitting? Why do kids’ classroom projects inevitably become the parents’ responsibility? When did we start needing mediators to handle disagreements between adults? – all of which goes to prove that it’s never just another sunny day in the suburbs,

Is this my future?  God help me.

UPDATE:  According to the reviews, it’s as good as you’d think:
Chicago Tribune.  Boston Herald.

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Who’s Moving to the Suburbs? Amy Winehouse, That’s Who!

You always want to be on top of a trend, right? Well, it’s good to see I’m not alone in making the move to the suburbs: crazy person Amy Winehouse is apparently also moving to a quiet suburb of London when she gets out of her latest rehab. Sadly, her purpose is not to bring her particular brand of falling-down-drunk to the suburbs; instead, she’s moving there to avoid the temptations of the city.

This sort of goes against my Suma philosophy, the idea that you can bring a little bit of your city to the suburbs.  My point is that I’m going to try to find something in the suburbs that feeds that pretentious, pseudo-hip sides of my personality that’s so deeply important to me.  Then again, my pretentious, pseudo-hip side doesn’t include a massive heroin problem (which I guess is what you get when you’re really seriously hip, not pseudo-hip), so my baggage is a lot easier to carry, like on rollers.

And I guess Amy would be moving to “Sulo,” not “Suma”.  But it makes me happy to know that celebrities are doing what I’m doing.  I feel validated!

UPDATE: This didn’t work out so well.  RIP, Amy.

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What is Suma?

What is Suma?

Well, here’s the thing.  I am not ready to leave Manhattan. I know I need to, I know it’s time, but I can’t stand the thought of leaving good bars and great restaurants and cool people and great things to do and the center of the world and all that.  I can’t bear it.

So I’ve convinced myself that I’m not leaving.  No, not me!  I’m just moving to a new section of Manhattan, a hot new neighborhood like Dumbo and Nolita and all those other acronymic (is that a word?) Manhattan neighborhoods that magazine writers or real estate brokers are always discovering.

I’m just moving to “Suma,” the “SUburbs of MAnhattan.”  Just like “Tribeca” is the “TRIangle BElow CAnal” or “Nolita” is “NOrth of LIttle ITaly.”   Just another neighborhod of Manhattan!  Really!

Suma is not a neighborhood per se, of course, but it’s a state of mind, the state of mind that I might be moving to the suburbs, but I’m going to retain my Manhattan sensibilities, pretentious though they may be.

I’m not going to give in.

I’m not going to get a cookie-cutter house.

I’m not going to become the organization man.

I’m not going to eat every meal at a franchise restaurant.

I’m not going to stay in on weekends.

I’m going to find my Suma.

And, yes, of course, I’m seriously in denial.

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