1000th visitor...Revealed!

Well, my 1000th visitor has clicked their way into Simon Chase history! And the winner in the select a blog post topic is........Misplaced in the Midwest! Ironically, Misplaced had already recently tagged me to post 10 things about myself, which as you can see, I've only written through #4 so far. If Misplaced would like, he can still select a topic for me, otherwise I'll just wrap up the last 6 things. Here's to 2000!

SC

10 Things About Me

I was officially "tagged" last week by my friend Misplaced. Aside from gaining loads of notoriety and a fat pay-day, being tagged also gives me the opportunity to share a bit about myself, rather than my usual whining, raving or judging of something, someplace or someone. Time to turn the Hubble around and focus it back on myself and the 10 interesting (and not so interesting) things about me.

Sadly, even in such a simple writing assignment as this, I have been racking my brain about how to arrange or arrive at these 10 things. After spending much time considering things about my past, my present and my future, many of my fondest memories and experiences seem to have often been set in New York City. With that then, I give you my 10 New York stories.


1. My first visit to NY I was about 3 years old. We were living in Ithaca, NY at the time where my dad was working on his PhD, and we had come down for a visit to the big city. As young as I was, I have no actual recollection of that particular trip, but what I do have are a handful of photographs from then which fortunately captured what my tiny little mind couldn't. One such picture was of my brother (who was about 9 then) down at Battery Park with the Statue of Liberty situated just behind him. Sure there is an iconic symbolism to the immigrant boy standing next to Lady Liberty but this provided a more interesting juxtaposition being a family of immigrant academics in the 1970s as opposed to a family of laborers in the 1870s. The thing that gets me about this picture though is that cradled in my brother's arms is a stuffed Hamburgler doll from McDonald's. There's all sorts of irony there, I mean he's standing in front of the global symbol of freedom holding a figure from the most globally recognized brand on the planet and it's sadly not even Ronald McDonald he's holding! It's the Hamburgler! The outcast! Actually, this picture ultimately makes me feel guilty to this day. My brother loved his Hamburgler doll and like all things that older siblings outgrow, Hamburgler eventually became mine. I too loved the Hamburgler doll....until I somehow lost him. My brother was far beyond doll age by that point, but I could tell he was sad when I told him. That made me even sadder.

Ok, I have to get to the point on these quicker or else I'll have to do my 10 things over 10 days!

2. I went on a school trip to NY with the art club when I was 14. That was my first time I had been back since I was 3 and yet even with no real recollection I felt such a connections that to this day I feel almost more at home in NY that I do in any other city in the world. Anyway, I spent the entirety of my teen years as a leather jacket and combat boot clad angst ridden punk rock art kid. My walkman constantly blaring Black Flag, The Exploited, The Misfits, GBH or the Sex Pistols. This trip felt like I had been brought to my punk mecca. More shops catering to my kind than I could ever dream! I was on this trip with like 15 other kids and 1 lazy chaperone who could give a shit what we did for the 4 days we were there. At 14 that is some sweet liberty indeed. The most memorable of the things that we did that trip involved a failed hair dying incident. My friends and I had purchased a fire engine red hair dye by Manic Panic and we were all prepared to set our locks ablaze. This worked for most of us, except I have black hair and it was very short at that point (as I was leaning a bit more mod then). Anyway, imagine a small hotel room with 6 kids all trying to use a very messy and vibrant red dye that wasn't quite working as planned. Needless to say we soiled many a hotel towel. What's one to do with such towels? They'll never get clean! Well, the answer was right in front of us providing a splendid view down Lexington Avenue. "Quick, throw them out the window! All of them!" We did, then waited until the cleaning ladies came around and we stole a batch of fresh ones from the cart when she wasn't looking, replenished the recently jettisoned sets and all was well. My dye job didn't go quite as smoothly, leaving me with red splotches on my scalp that looked like eczema for like 3 weeks or so. Lesson learned! Funnier even was when we left the hotel later that night and we ended up seeing all the towels strewn across the street, they almost looked like the aftermath of a horrific accident scene with the red dye bleeding into the wet, snowy pavement.

3. During that same trip a couple of my friends, Greg and Rich and I, decided to take a stroll down to Times Square to see if we couldn't catch a nudie film! Back in the mid-eighties you could still do that there. So we wandered down and around the area in what one could consider the "Off Broadway" of adult film and ended up at a theater called The Regent which was playing a film called The Casting Couch, starring the one and only Ron Jeremy. We walked up to the ticket booth where within the glass pod sat a disheveled looking older guy and in a very Simpson's-like moment, he asked if we were 18. To which we replied in unison a resounding YES. "That'll be 5 bucks" he said. We paid and made our way in. Walking into the lobby and then into the theater was not at all what I expected. I had imagined that this was going to be no different than if we had decided to see like Return of the Jedi or something. You know, there'd be pimply faced teens selling popcorn and M&Ms. I wouldn't expect families per se, but maybe several couples and groups of friends. Well, what we really saw was what looked more like the set of Escape From New York, which is another 80s classic. The place was a wreck, stuff turned over, garbage everywhere and that was just in the lobby. Oh yeah, and no popcorn. So we made our way into the theater and tried to find seats in the crowd. As our eyes adjusted, we realized that the seats weren't actually full of people, it was more occupied by row with hobo after hobo and several bags of their stuff. Puzzled, we walked down the central aisle to find a clear row, stepped around the projector (there was not a proper film projector, but rather a vcr connected to a projector and set on a stool in the aisle strategically aimed at the screen) and found some seats. As we went to sit we realized that none of the seats had cushions on them anymore so we had to just sit on the metal part that was remaining. Anyway, having settled into our metal seats, we began watching Ron Jeremy interview young starlets and giving them their "big shot" to be in his upcumming feature film. Likely story. We noticed that in the row in front of us there was a guy near the wall who kept lighting up every couple of minutes or so. After a bit, he leans back towards me being the closest and asks "hey dude, you wanna buy some crack?" I sort of freaked out so I leaned over to my friends and asked them "uh...guys, do you want to buy some crack?" They looked at me sort of stunned too so I just turned back to our hobo friend and kindly declined, "no thanks mister, we're good". I couldn't recall the protocol from my Emily Post etiquette book on what to do in a situation like that, so I just had to go with my gut.

At this point I will post these 3 and continue with 4, 5 & 6 in the next day or 2.

1000th visitor

As of tonight, I am 19 visitors away from 1000! With that milestone on my horizon, I'd like to dangle a carrot to the eventual lucky visitor with the chance at a fabulous doorprize. Drumroll please............The 1000th visitor will get to decide what my next blog topic should be!

Actually, I was tagged a few days ago and I'm still a bit behind on posting the 10 things about me post, so let's say it'll be the next one after that (assuming it doesn't take 2 weeks to get to 1000).

Secret

Naturally with a topic like this one I was tempted to reveal something really juicy about myself, but as I began writing all I could think about was deodorant!

Procter & Gamble has a line of women's deodorant called Secret which was first introduced in the mid-fifties, but didn't manifest itself in the form we know it today as until the the late 70s. For years Secret was considered a top-tier product as deodorants/antiperspirants go and always had the catchy tag-line of "strong enough for a man, but made for a woman". That added a touch of exclusivity to let women know that P&G formulated that product with them as the focus, basically saying 'we understand your body chemistry and have something just for you'.

That was back when men were gruff, burly oafs and women were dainty flowers who may sweat from time to time, but hey, we'll never tell! Well, in today's world where men have returned to dandiness and anything vaguely sexist is politically incorrect, P&G ditched the inimitable old marketing message and introduced the "what's your secret?" campaign. This campaign resulted in a series of commercials with mothers and daughters and girlfriends confessing things to one another on national television and in mass distributed print ads. In my opinion (and apparently on Wall Street) this was ridiculous! Why would anyone use their deodorant brand as their safety umbrella for spilling their guts about something?!? "Hey Jan, listen...ummm, well last weekend when you were in Brighton, your boyfriend Mark and I...well..uuuhh. You're not mad though right, I mean, we both use Secret, so it's cool?"

I'm glad that campaign was short lived and with that debacle P&G has tried to get nostalgic to the old 80s message but has updated it (politically corrected it) to "strong like a woman". I hope that works for them. In the meantime though, maybe with the continued emasculation of men in media, perhaps it's time for say Jaguar to pick up the secret torch? I can see it now, a father and son jump into the XKR and head out for a drive to the country manor. Son leans over and says, "hey dad, I have something I need to tell you.....long awkward pause....I'm gay".

Coming home

I'll briefly acknowledge the fact that I have been really slacking in blog posts for the last 2 weeks. Sorry to all my many fans. I'll be good.

My wife has been out of town for a few days and tonight I went to the airport to pick her up. I really love airports, so when I go, I usually try to get there early and just soak in the experience. I could actually write post after post about airports, and maybe that can be sort of a fall back for when I'm feeling tapped out of topics.

Anyway, one of my favorite things to do at airports, ours in particular, is to watch people exit the secured area and come up that long escalator to the baggage claim area. That's where you'll see the fat old men holding up signs with things like "Mr. Davison" or "RPI Printing". You'll see kids straining to see gramma and grampa or mum and dad. You'll see Joe husband returning from his business trip, sometimes with family there to greet him, sometimes not. These days you might have a family awaiting the return of one of their sons in uniform returning from military service in Iraq. Kids coming back from chaperoned school trips. And the common business guy flying from one strange town to another,never sure where he is or why he is.

What I like in all of those scenarios is the common element amongst really all of these folks. Everyone always looks happy. Except for the poor business bastard. Whether they're coming home from holiday, business or war, they always seem happy to arrive where they are. I'm guessing it's not so much for the place, but for the people waiting for them at the top of the escalator.

Buffets

Americans are obsessed with buffets. Immigrants living in America have too become infatuated with the "all you can eat" concept of the buffet. A ton of food at a reasonable price. What else can one ask for?

Buffets can be categorized by food type or meal spicificity like how you might find breakfast buffets, seafood buffets or pizza and pasta buffets. Then there are the ethnicity based buffets, like Indian, Thai, Italian or the kings of them all, the Chinese buffet. Buffets can also be just general full menu spreads, serving anything from soups and salads, to pot roast or fried chicken and naturally several types of desserts. There are of course wedding and Casino buffets too, but there's just only so much one can write about buffets.

Most buffet restaurants seem to cater to a slightly lower income crowd who might also not be as knowledgable on proper dietary guidelines as taught in primary school. They can be a fun place to go people watch although sort of mean-spirited.

One such chain of general purpose buffets is called The Golden Corral. It's a place I visit with some of my colleagues from work maybe 4 times a year. The three most common consumer archetypes at an establishment of this type would be:

1. The obese elderly or mentally challenged day care/nursing home tour group
2. The 30-50 something male laborer/painter/construction guy
3. The starry-eyed Latin American or Eastern European immigrant

Not as common would be the group I take, which consists of 3-6 well dressed and fairly fit designers, using napkins and forks AND knives. I had never been to such a place before 3 years ago, which was something that I was proud of. I was always sort of grossed out by buffets and particularly the fact that they all had that glass "sneeze guard" over all the food, which means that people must really sneeze and that guard couldn't possibly deflect all of the sneeze particles. Well, one regretful visit led to a return and then several more followed.

Since then it has become a sort of tradition that we take all the newbies to the "GC" as we call it, to sort of break them in and test their will and eating prowess. Today was one of those such days. Our newest designer is a fit young lad who suitably had never been to the GC. We built up the experience for him before hand, and as we arrived, paid, grabbed our stack of clean plates and sat at our table, he knew we had only told him the good parts. Ed our server came by just to ask us if we wanted a basket of rolls and to let us know that if we needed anything to ask him, "my name's Ed, just ask for anything".

My mates and I grabbed our "round 1" plates and headed for the buffet. Newbie was bringing up the rear and crossed paths with Ed again. He says to Ed, "yeah, I need to follow the veterans to see how this is done". To which Ed responds "If it ain't nailed down, you can eat it".

Well put Ed, well put indeed.

Town & Country

I live in an area of the city that would be considered an urban neighborhood. It's well within the peripheral expressway and only but 3 miles or so from the city center. At the turn of the last century (18s - 19s), this area was actually where the wealthy city folk would buy land and build their country manors in order to get back to the country and revive their souls from the madness of the city. In the century following, as the city grew and absorbed this area and growing well past, my neighborhood became more densely built, gained more infrastructure and many more residents. This probably conjures up images of row houses or brownstones, graffiti, stoop occupying drunks and traffic noise.

Actually, my neighborhood is one of 100+ year old houses with yards with huge trees, most lovingly restored or modernized. There are families and children, retirees, singles, you name it. Just a 5 minute walk up my street is our central business district which has a small movie theater, a number of restaurants, a grocery store, 2 coffee shops, banks, a barber shop, a small library and most importantly, my favorite ice cream shop. An evening stroll will undoubtedly have me cross paths with several acquaintances, neighbors and friends.

I go to my coffee shop and they know how I like my latte. I go to my barber and he knows that I like my hair cut short, like Steve McQueen's in Bullitt. My ice cream "barrista" Molly always serves me up a massive portion of mocha chip and carefully balances the precarious lot of lactic goodness onto a small cone below. What I consider this is a true community.

What I find sadly ironic is that most of my coworkers live out in the suburbs, well beyond the periphery, in a land of matching cookie-cutter houses built in mowed down forests and fields and surrounded by massive thoroughfares and shopping plazas. On the rare occasion that my wife and I are forced to venture out of "the shire" due to invitation or the need to visit some store that only exists out there, we'll have panic attacks at the sheer madness of congestion and creepily homogeneous appearance to everything. When I care enough to ask suburban residents why they choose to live all the way out there they'll typically say that they live there because they like their "communities" (usually walled in enclaves named things like Arbor Centre or Crowne Pointe) and they want to be far away from the city, it's noise, traffic and crime.

I'm not sure I know what they're talking about.

Mmmmm...GYROS!

We Greeks are generally a fairly proud people. Granted we've basically been resting on our laurels for the last couple thousand years, but even still, we must be given credit for a few more modern gifts to the world. I'm not talking about Korres beauty care products or even the lovely Maria Menounos. No, what I speak of is the magical Gyro. Yes, the staple food of Greeks all over the world. The tasty delight that can bring warring nations together. The gravity defying meat cone that serves as a beacon to the hungry. The Gyro. A symbol of freedom, carnivorous creativity....and delicious goodness.

Well, to honor our national treasure, Chicago - widely considered the unofficial gyro capitol of the world - has bestowed on our tantilizing treat the honor of a visual homage for all of the world to enjoy. A team of artists captured snapshots of all of Chicago's many gyro restaurant signs and created an historic montage to be treasured by Greeks all over the globe. "A photographic tour de force.." says Petros Papaiannis president of the Greek Barber's Guild. "2 thumbs WAY up!" say Nikos and Yiorgos of Nikos and Yiorgos - Let's Make Movietime! .

Please click here to share in this ethnic treasure. A heartfelt efharisto to the good people of Chicago.