This is a golf course in Oakland, not a scene from Lost.
Since it's inception in 2004 the sci-fi television show Lost has been a part of my year. With a mind-bending fourth season, it's the first show since Arrested Development that my friends and I have been able to geek out over. This season, which culminated last night, took the possibility of television narrative further and further. The Lost universe's capacity for surprise made it an exciting group event. For most of the season, we'd gather in the living room armed with beverages a list of rules conceived before each episode. Should a rule occur on screen, the group would take a drink. For the three hour finale we played a season's-worth of rules at once. It was fun. They were:
Sawyer nicknames. Befuddlement. Water. The word "ship." "Oceanic Flight 815." New character. "Oceanic 6." Sarcasm. Blood. Questions answered. Tanktop. Gun pulled. Hugo fucks up. "Dude." Locke disagrees. Desmond says "brutha." Red phone. Dharma Beer. Alcohol. Question avoided. Someone gets the shit beat out of them. Sayid threatens someone. Song. Ben talking. Faraday twitches. Ads for Eli Stone. Ben discourages someone. Baby information. Mythbuster. New danger. One liner into commercial break. New technology. Blades. Cleavage. "Waaaaalt!" Throwing things. Kissing. Ties. Evidence that supports timelooptheory.com. Lapidus saves a life. Celebrity cameo. Rose. Walkie talkies.
I slept for a few hours last Wednesday, then I woke up, packed, walked outside into a fogless morning and marveled at a watery cup of coffee. I was confused—crap coffee is unnatural in SF—but unaffected. I was on my way to New York City.
On the flight I read my new favorite magazine and slept. It was dark and warm when we landed. I ate a burger made from buffalo meat and walked around Rockefeller Center. Then I met the crew in the lower East Side for drinks. We went for food and more drinks at a place where the hairy dude from TV On The Radio worked, and he was sitting at the counter. Then we went to a karaoke bar which needs to be explained vaguely, just because it was so strange: giant Jewish bling, native American genocide song (99/100), “Don’t Stop Believin’” feat. interruption/self-fulfilling prophecy.
The next day after a family breakfast, my dad and I started walking down Seventh Ave. Walked past Madison Square Garden (where I resisted buying Van Halen tickets) and the Chelsea Hotel (where I resisted moving in).
Parsed Greenwich Village wide-eyed and stopped for (great) coffee and a mega-sized Cuban sandwich on Challah at Grey Dog Café, which the Zagat review describes as “San Francisco-like” and “a good place to write the next big indie screenplay.” (Shout out to Mr. S for the recommendation!)
We proceeded to the World Trade Center site. It was my first time and I was mortified by the width of the area and how tiny an airplane is by comparison. We walked around the hole and stopped by a couple 200 year-old churches that were undamaged by the collapse.
World Trade Center: not a happy place for conspiracy theorists.
We moved on to Wall Street, which was quiet because everyone trades stocks online or in London. Saw a lot of M-16s. My dad fixed his ATM card while I bought a pair of $5 wayfarer’s, then we went to Battery Park and discovered that the Statue Of Liberty looks great on a clear day.
This sunglass style is called "The Wayfarer."
I could have breathed that air forever, but we hopped on the subway and met Kim Robinson Jr., who lived across the street from me in Sacramento. Mr. Robinson works at The Fader, a job that achieves the first part of his dream. My dad and I reconnected with my mom and sister, who spent the day shopping. We ate an insane Japanese dinner where the lights in the restaurant kept changing colors, then we walked to see Passing Strange, a pretty-great musical about a twenty-something’s search for meaning in art. Then my sis and I got about $30 worth of free drinks on the seventh floor of the Times Square W Hotel, which is a great space to get anything for free. Then I went to sleep.
What you wake up to...
Woke up refreshed. Went to Brooklyn. My sister lives in a hand-restored house with two grandparent figures: the nicest lady ever and her Italian husband who has his own language, ya understand what I’m sayin’? She lives on a strange block next to one of the oldest cemeteries in the country.
My sis and I, looking comfy at her place.
Proceeded to the Brooklyn Museum for the Murakami show, which I loved, especially the functional Louis Vuitton store that travels with the exhibit.
Takashi Murakami. I dig it.
Then I ate too much paella at Flor de Sol in TriBeCa. I remain fairly certain that Ghostface Killah was four tables over. Back to the Lower East Side, to a bar that played too many of my 14-year-old self’s favorite songs (see Megadeth, Pantera). Then we cabbed to Williamsburg, which was a little boring, save for the company. I had to pee so bad on the train that I fortuitously got off early at a better stop then I’d planned to get off at in the first place. NYC is persistently clever like that.
Speaking of persistence, the next day I convinced my parents to have breakfast at a different location: City Bakery near Union Square. This turned out to be funny, since I’ve been to the Bakery before. Doesn’t matter: it’s amazing. Mac ‘N Cheese for breakfast! And the best mocha ever! I ate about a pound of fresh fruit! While thinking I might turn into a mango, we walked around for the rest of the afternoon. Got a pair of $18 shoes from a pushy cobbler. Ate a vegan lunch. Ran into a Puerto Rican festival, thought about that great, banned Seinfeld episode. Laughed to myself. We all felt exhausted so we went to see Indiana Jones And What Is Hopefully The Final Attempt To Revive Twenty-Year-Old Franchises, which I want to never think about again. Tried to go to ASSSSCAT! at the UCB Theatre, but missed the free tickets by about 10 people, so we ate a great meal in a futuristic looking building with a totally antique name (the Maritime Building).
On our last day, I think I probably appeared on a couple shots of the Today Show. We went to the top of Rockefeller Center, which was the perfect thing to do.
On my way to the top.
Checked out the coolest Apple Store ever on Fifth Ave, where you enter through a glass elevator in a translucent cube in the middle of a huge public square in front of an FAO Schwartz. Ate a gruyere cheeseburger. Said goodbye to the sister, read the Esquire with Barack Obama on the cover and learned to avoid buying Esquire in the future. I watched 27 Dresses and Set It Off on the flight back, which (unlike New York) were both meaningless and (like New York) were fun.
The Greater Mekong... is also home to striped rabbits, bright pink millipedes laced with cyanide and a rat that was believed to have become extinct 11 million years ago.
This is a golf course in Oakland, not a scene from Lost.
