We Just Want To Emote 'Til We're Dead

Back in the summer of '98, Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa were in the midst of a race to beat Roger Maris's home run record. The St. Louis Cardinals' McGwire and the Chicago Cubs' Sosa kept things entertaining, helping to take the pressure off each other with their great meshing personalities. McGwire was also my favorite baseball player, so for me, the summer was a great one.

My long-time friend Sean asked me one day if I wanted to go with he and his family to see a Mets game at Shea Stadium. He and his dad went to a different away stadium every summer for a few years, and this year Shea was on the list. It just so happened that the day we went, there was a doubleheader scheduled against the St. Louis Cardinals, and McGwire was at homer number 49. 50 would be a huge milestone on his way to history. Well, McGwire delivered, hitting a homer in each of the games that day.

That was the first, last, and only time I'd been to New York. Living in Philadelphia, you'd think I'd have gone at least once: it's only a three-hour ride away and it's the biggest city in the country. There's really no good reason I'd never gone, but every time I thought about going, it fell through somehow.

Then, a few months ago, Of Montreal announced their tour dates. I was stoked; I'd wanted to see the band for a while, but I missed out the last time they were in Philly. Since that last tour, they'd basically become my favorite band. All the others were either broken up (Neutral Milk Hotel) or dead (The Beatles) or had gone shitty (Weezer). Of Montreal's been making great albums for years and they're still going strong.

There was a problem, though, when they announced their dates. I was initially okay with missing the one class I had the day before spring break so that I could come home Thursday night to see the band at the Trocadero, but then I found out I had an Econ test scheduled for that night. I was crushed. But when I brought up the predicament to my Collegian colleague Adam Clair, he said he had an extra ticket for the New York show two nights later. The stage was set for my first real trip to New York City.

***

We got off the train at Penn Station. I turned to Adam and asked, "So is this where I start being an asshole?" New York was noticeably different. I think it's true that New Yorkers are indeed assholes, but they are merely products of their environment. When there are that many people in that small an area all the time, you're going to learn to hate people very quickly. It's hard to walk anywhere; you have to dodge everyone if you want to get anywhere on time. So what I'm saying is that: a) yes, New Yorkers are assholes; b) no, they didn't do anything to get that way; and c) it's not cool that they're assholes because it's expected of them. Being an asshole in NYC is the easy way out. It's the lazy thing to do.

The city has its advantages, though. Since there are more people, there are, by the law of averages, more women. Thus, there are more attractive women. There are also more interesting people. It's science. There's always something going on, and there are always more things going on than anywhere else in the world. You can't really be bored in New York.

But that said, there are also a lot more reasons to hate life in New York. Citing Adam's friend (and our tour guide/innkeeper for the night) Tom, there are indeed lots of attractive girls in New York. However, all the hot ones want to date older guys. All the older guys are boring because their lives suck, or they're cliche and lame because they're rich (but artistic!) sons and daughters of those boring older guys.

Another note on the women: I've decided that the girls in New York are really no different than any other city. Philadelphia has its fair share of trashy girls, but New York's got them in droves. Philly's got its attractive girls, too, but a lot of them just want to be sorority chicks or New Yorkers (who are mostly Mary Kate and Ashley fashionistas).

And back to the whole concept of being an asshole: it's funny sometimes, but it's not really attractive. I like to laugh at assholes, but being an asshole on a regular basis is just annoying. It's a shtick. I know I've got shtick, probably, but I'm a nice guy, too. Assholes are funny because it's fun to laugh at them. Case in point: as Adam, Tom and I began to cross a street, a girl walked right into me and then said "I hate everyone." Okay, cool. I got in your way, so you're gonna be a bitch about it. That's funny to me, but mostly because you walked into me and not the other way around. Also, her sunglasses, like everyone else's in New York, were 500 times larger than any sunglasses I'd ever seen. Then there was the girl on the train ride home who said "Cool" sarcastically when the three of us took up six seats on a not-quite-full train.

Oh, I guess I was the asshole in those cases. Whoops.

So anyway, onto New York. We left Penn Station and walked past Madison Square Garden (which is pretty awesome from the outside; I only wish I'd gotten to see the inside) to get to the subway. New York subways are incredibly efficient, but I could probably blow 10 bucks in one day traveling around the city. It's two bucks for a ride anywhere, and the city is so big that you can't possibly take one ride and be satisfied. You could always walk around everywhere you go, but I'd assume most people don't have six hours to kill every Saturday like we did yesterday.

We got off the Subway at Canal Street, which is probably one of the best streets in America (but not really). It's capitalism at its best — breaking trademark laws and selling them to girls who want to look rich but aren't. It's also fucking packed, and you can't go anywhere without having people offer you shit you will never need.

Tom's dorm building was pretty awesome. It's like an actual apartment building. His dorm was roughly twice the size of my dorm last year, which was a double room that I had to myself. Granted, it holds four people, but there are also two bedrooms, a kitchen/living room, a bathroom and a walk-in closet. Pwned, Penn State.

Tom is a huge fan of Popeye's, so we walked a few blocks to get some. Adam brings up a fine point about State College: you can absolutely not get fried chicken ANYWHERE. What the fuck? Fried chicken is amazing, and white people love it as much as black people. Last I checked, there are over 30,000 fried-chicken-loving white people at Penn State. What's our excuse?

The Popeye's filled the gaping hole in our stomachs, and then we went for a walk. During our travels, we passed by the World Trade Center memorial. I didn't understand. "Remembering September 11th"? It was only 5 years ago, and I don't think anyone's forgotten it. I don't mean to be insensitive to the people hurt by the day's events, but too soon is too soon. Now they have a sweet memorial that kids skateboard on. I personally think they should have just turned it into a skate park. Wouldn't that piss off the terrorists so much? A bunch of teenagers drinking Mountain Dew, listening to punk rock, and skateboarding? It would be such a "fuck you" to Osama bin Laden to have a mural of Tony Hawk right there. But we also have a bunch of idiots running our country, so whatever.

After World Trade Skatepark, we tried walking to the end of the island, but got lost. So instead, we just walked to NYU's campus for a while. There were a lot more places to shop there, like Canal Street, except they were all expensive stores that I'd never go to. There was a lot of cool art being sold on the street, though. Even though I kind of wanted to ruin it all just to see the looks of devastation on the artists' faces, some of it was pretty good.

We got through NYU and went to Washington Square Park where some sort of folk group was playing. They sucked, but next to them were a couple acrobats named Tic and Tac putting on a show. I won't recount the show since I attempted and failed miserably to do so at dinner with my family, but they have a web site (http://www.ticandtac.com/). The show itself was okay, but the guys were pretty funny. They interact with the crowd a lot, poking fun at everyone. At one point, just before the grand finale, they petitioned the crowd for donations, going around to everyone. After Tom threw in a fake $1,000,000 bill, Adam and I, wearing typical college student garb, stood back with our arms crossed. One of the guys came over and said, "Come on, guys! Support the show! I support your show, Dawson's Creek!" I was really hoping he'd make fun of me, and he did. So I guess New York wasn't all bad.

Actually, it was pretty great! I haven't even gotten to the concert yet! Being the 21-year-old I am, I was looking forward to buying a few drinks at the show. However, I maxed out at four because beers were five bucks and mixed drinks were 9. Eff that noise. I got a little buzzed on two Bud Lights and two whiskey and cokes anyway. I wouldn't have had any drinks if I weren't so bored by the DJ who went on at 8:45. His music was good and all, but watching a DJ spin on stage for 45 minutes just isn't entertaining. But the act which followed, Lonely, Dear, was pretty awesome. The band is from Sweden, and they're good. Their set was way too short, without a single dull moment. But I guess I couldn't have been too disappointed when they left, seeing as how Of Montreal was about to take the stage.

Of Montreal's sets this tour have all been too contemporary for my taste, only drawing from the band's last three albums. But the plus side to that is that the last three albums have been, hands down, the most energetic of their albums. They're all very good, too, so it wasn't that disappointing that they left out the older stuff.

The band's playing was almost flawless (with some very slight missteps), but the stage antics were over-the-top. They ranged from hilarious to...a bit strange. The most notable part was a man with a mustache in a white leotard-type thing. It stretched up over his head, too, leaving only his face and hands uncovered. At one point, he brought out some bananas, unzipped his leotard (a la those footie pajamas you wore as a kid) and started rubbing them on himself. It was interesting.

The only part of the set I didn't really like was "The Past Is a Grotesque Animal," which is one of my least favorite Of Montreal songs. But live, it took on a different form. The epic song was strangely hypnotic, like the band commanded your attention the entire time.

Before the show, I'd planned on making some kind of Outback Steakhouse joke during "Wraith Pinned to the Mist and Other Games," but the band got away without playing the song. It wasn't even missed. The set was so good, so well-performed, that I didn't care. And the intimate floor of Irving Plaza suited it perfectly.

After the show, we got some drinks and I learned why every soda bottle I've ever had has that refund thing on the side. While you're supposed to be able to turn that in for five cents, the Walgreen's we visited tacked that five cent deposit onto the price of the soda. Jerks. After a long day of walking, we took the subway back to Canal Street and played basketball video games for a few hours.

New York was a nice place to visit, but I'd probably hate it if I lived there. There's a lot of pride in the city among its citizens, but it seems like there's really no reason for it other than location. There's so much culture that there's no shared culture. Whereas in Philly, where there are white neighborhoods and black neighborhoods and Italian and Irish neighborhoods, everyone celebrates those things together. We have no pride in our city outside our sports teams, and because of that, I love Philadelphia. There's really no reason to have pride in a location where you happen to live. It's like patriotism — I have no reason to love America just because I was born here. It was a completely random event over which I had no control. Likewise, New Yorkers born and raised in New York who have pride in New York are dumb. I can understand moving there and falling in love with it, but the people who do that probably never lived anywhere cool to begin with.

The city is such a clusterfuck that I can't really compare it to anything. Maybe that's the appeal. It's so chaotic that it's beautiful. It's just so big, too big, that it's cool. I don't really need that much shit in a town to enjoy it. New York's great and everything, but its greatest qualities are owed to its utter magnitude. If it weren't such a big city, it'd suck. It's got so many characters, it's got no character. It's the most convenient city in the world, I'm sure. But convenience is boring. Give me streaks of awesomeness combined with extended periods of monotony and you're giving me a city with an identity. New York is just too wrapped up in itself to be cool.

I don't mean to be so negative about the city. I'm probably completely biased by my affinity for hating NYC. I'm sure I missed out on a ton of stuff, but really, unless you absolutely LOVE art, or shopping, or fashion, there's nothing there you can't find anywhere else. And everywhere else is cheaper. But I guess I'm glad I have that train ride from Trenton as a resource — you never know when I'll need to see my favorite band.