Hate on an elevator

I've been meaning to write these two anicdotes (not to be confused with antidotes - like how torah is the antidote to the satan) for quite some time and I believe that they indicate why there is prevalent anti-semitism in this world.

Story one occured before getting on an elevator, in the James Tower, located on the Upper West Side. I was with my friend Owen, and we were going to visit the Steens in 8-H. As luck would have it (or wouldn't have it) only one elevator was working on this rainy friday afternoon, and all the Jews in James Tower were returning for the pre-shabbos rush. For readers not familiar with some of the basics of the Upper West Side, there are 3 buildings in which 90% of all single Jews live. They are (in alphabetical order) "James Tower, Key West, Westmont"...and all three have a "the" in front of the name, but i didn't include that just now b/c that would make alphabetical order annoying, and who doesn't love a good alphabetical order.

Anyway, this James Tower has 20 something floors, and only had this one elevator, and it was taking forever. I even considered walking the eight flights, but then remembered how I am extremely lazy. After repeatedly pressing the UP arrow, even though this doesn't help at all, I decided to also press the DOWN arrow as well. I'm not sure why I did this, b/c DOWN goes to the basement, and me and Owen didn't need to do laundry...we needed to get UP to 8H. Finally the elevator arrives and it is apparently going to go down b/c of my mistake. But then it does that weird elevator switch thing where it decides its not going down, but instead is going up, and the doors almost close without anyone of th 343 people wanting to go up even entering. Luckily, a heavyset bald man who was sweating stuck his fat foot inbetween the closing doors and saved us all another long wait.

So why is this a negative portrait of the Jewish people, you might ask? B/c once we got on the elevator this man unleashed a verbal tirade on me and owen, but mainly on me. He called me out in front of everyone on "my pressing the down button and wasting all of our time". I shook my head and laughed at this stunning accusation and that just got the fatman angrier and angrier. He said "Yeah...you shake your head, that will get you far in life". But so far its been working, so I'm not sure what the meaning of that comment was. Finally, after he finished his diatribe, I remarked out loud to the elevator "Is this an episode of Curb your Enthusiasm...is this guy for real?" Of course, this was merely a rhetorical question, so nobody answered.

People like this guy...he is one reason for anti-semitism. You cannot freak out if someone accidentally presses a down button. Then again, I didn't do it accidentally, just for no reason...although there isn't that great a difference. Also, the guy wasn't wearing a yarmulka so I actually have no proof that he was Jewish. But only Jewish singles, and some african americans live in James tower, so I must conclude that he was in fact a very stressed out Jewish male. As far as my research goes, there are no african american Jews in James Tower, but there are many in Beit Shemesh.

a young man's journey through bloomingdales

I'm done working and I got a job offer from my law firm (mazel tov, kiddush), so now I feel like I can write about my summer working experience just a little bit. I still am always nervous that the firm will somehow find out I write on this blog, and somehow interpret everything I say as racist or sexist or something (and usually it is), and then fire me before I even set my small foot through the door. In any event, here is what I now feel comfortable discussing...although this blog will probably still be somehow traced back to me, at which point I will be fired.

Alot of the summer working at the law firm is really not spent "working" at all. Rather, there is a sizable amount of "wining and dining" going on. In other words, we go to lunch at solo and prime grille everyday, order lots of food, and then get back to the office and take naps. The dining becomes so excessive that I started to hear myself complain "that I'm sick of solo", or "why can't the service at prime grille be a bit quicker". When I hear these types of complaints being voiced, I always imagine if homeless people were able to listen in on this. If a group of homeless individuals would somehow hear this, I think they would throw their bedpans and loose change at me. I actually am not sure if they have bedpans, but what I'm trying to tell you is that they would be so angry that they would actually throw away the change they have earned by begging all day. By the way, if NYC is so concerned about the homeless (but they aren't) they should do something about the bathroom situation. I mean, that would at least be a good start. Maybe bedpans should be distributed and there should be bedpan emptying centers. Or even better would be public bathroom facilities with showers for the homeless. B/c really- I am tired of waking up every morning and smelling urine on the streets. I was actually walking by a homeless man once, and he started to urinate as I walked by him... I.e- he wasn't even obeying the "Drunk wall rule". To quickly elaborate, the drunk wall rule is that if one is drunk and wishes to urinate in public, he/hopefully not she MUST find a wall to urinate on. You can't simply just stand in the middle of a street or alleyway or muvoy (from gemara) and urinate. The only exception to this rule is the "Drunk telephone rule", which is to pretend you are talking on a public phone in NYC and actually just stand there and urinate. I only know these rules based on hearsay.

Anyway, the point is that we get wined and dined a ton,and part of this is that we get taken on trips or outings, like Lag B'omer back in the day. So one of these outings was a trip to a country club for a day, and you can choose golf or tennis or kayaking for your activity. I decided to choose laying on my ass by the pool all day, which wasn't actually a choice. The only problem with my decision, was that I lacked a bathing suit, which meant I had to go purchase one on short notice. In my defense, I tried to go to urban outfitters, but all of their "board shorts" were hanging off me and showing my butt crack, and i didnt think that was a good country club look. So I decided to go to BLoomingdale's (Or Gehennom) b/c it was the next closest store to the office. Now I should have realized that I was in for trouble when I saw a limo pull up, and a lady and her daughters got out for a day of shopping. Now- realize that this means that this lady has a limo take her shopping. Lets just stop and realize that and recognize that it should blow our minds...

That being said, I entered the flagship Bloomingdales, thinking that it was similar to Macy's and JC Penny, and not more similar to Nordstrom and Sax 5th Ave. (i think the hierchy is Nordstroms, Sax 5th ave, Lord and Taylor, Bloomingdales, Macys , JC Penny, National Wholesale Liquidators). I was immedietly greeted by a older male who smelled better than anyone I have ever met and had very small cool glasses on. He was either a flamboyant homosexual of european descent, or was just a metrosexual. Either way, he asked if i could use help with anything, and instead of just saying "just looking around", i found myself asking for a bathing suit. "Peter" as he was called, already knew that he had me and he told me to follow him to the bathing suits "section".

What happened in the next few hours is somewhat inexplicable, but it should teach everyone some important lessons. Peter first asked me if i want a tight bathing suit that highlights my dimension, and thus confirmed his true gayness. After insisting on a loose bathing suit, Peter barraged me with expensive bathing suits, until i finally was forced into buying one for 55 dollars! Thats right, i now own a 55 dollar bathing suit, and I will probably wear it no more than 3 times. The story unfortunately got much worse, as Peter decided that I could use new cologne, and perhaps a nice polo shirt to wear at the country club dinner/cocktail party. The bottom line is that I was brainwashed by this gay peter. I was willing to do whatever he told me to do or buy. I found myself in love with this salesman and his shopping acumen, and wishing that he was jewish and sitting next to me in shul on yom kippur, b/c he smelled really amazing.

Total bill at Bloomingdales: 189.76
Realizing that if someone approaches you and asks if you need help, to simply say "Just looking around": Priceless.