Just for this Moment

One time …. I got this email that said that people come into your life only for a season. At the time, I didn’t give it much weight. I always felt that I WAS that person going into everyone else’s life just for a season. I was always the one to leave. I left my family and friends in Hawaii. I left my friends in Cleveland, and then I did it again and left my friends in Atlanta ultimately landing in New York.

I always said that every single person should spend at least 1 year of their life living in New York City. It is the most exciting place in the world, and at the same time the loneliest place on earth. It’s so hard to meet people here for any type of lasting relationships. Living in New York is also the greatest learning experience you will ever have in your life. I have been here for 5 years now, and am still living and learning.

A few weeks ago, someone came into my life and made such an impression on me that I have been changed forever. His exciting career is now taking him away from the U.S. to another country. He is the person who has come into MY life only for a season. That email I had received now holds more weight than ever, and because he is leaving in 2 weeks, I am trying to make the most of my time with him—making every moment count.

A lot of my friends said to me: Why would you waste your time on someone you knew was leaving? My answer to them is that connections like these are extremely rare, and though I will probably feel like I am dead inside when he leaves, I will have learned so much from the experience. He came into my life for a season to teach me about all the things I had forgotten about; Things like love, compassion, acceptance, laughter, romance, not compromising who I am, even culture identity and self acceptance. Until I met him (I think my friend Katrina put it best while describing her own situation) everyone else was just a stand in. Maybe it’s just me who feels this way and not him. But because the connection is so amazing, I want to believe the feeling is mutual.

I won’t print his name, or his picture, or what he does for work because he asked me to protect his identity, and I am asking those of you who know or have met him, to refrain from giving away his identity when you comment, or in any way else.

I spent an afternoon outNabout with him having lunch in the east village. We wanted Japanese food and we had heard there were some amazing noodle shops in the East Village. When I was in college, I worked at a Japanese noodle shop in Waikiki as a waiter serving Japanese tourist. It was a good deal. I also studied Japanese language (reading writing and speaking—yes the characters even) for 5 years (I’m losing it now though) but the noodle shop was a great place to practice as well as to learn how to cook amazing Japanese dishes that I still use to wow my friends today.

There are a lot of these noodle shops on St. Mark’s place in the east village. We browsed several of them trying to decide. I laughed when I saw one of the shops (that was not open for the day yet) with a handwritten sign saying that the Japanese Mafia was not allowed in there. Kind of ballsy to write such a thing. Isn’t that inviting them to just target you?

We settled for Ramen at Setagaya. Ramen in Japan and the rest of Asia is a meal, not a freeze dried sponge of noodles with a salty soup packet that you microwave and eat in your college dorm room or when you are sick. Real ramen uses fresh noodles, fresh meats and vegetables and homemade broths.

Apparently Setagaya is also a well-known Ramenya (Ramen Shop) amongst Japanese tourist and Japanese locals. The place was packed, everyone speaking Japanese. It’s a tiny little shop with a large table in the middle holding about 10 people, and then a counter that runs the perimeter of the room with maybe another 20 seats. Very Japanese. They also had a TV that showed Japanese Game shows on it. The particular show we were watching coincidentally was of teams battling to see who could make the best Ramen using secret ingredients (sort of like Iron Chef Meets Top chef). Setagaya is a tiny place, but they have wait service.

We both ordered the same exact meal Gyolou Ramen- noodles with Pork shoulder and veggies in it YUM! The bowls of noodles were HUGE. I could only eat about half of it.

We also shared a seaweed salad (I actually don’t know what’s in seaweed salad-- I think it’s all fake seaweed) but it taste really good; and we shared an order of Gyoza (Pot Stickers) which were okay. Mea, Janet, and Mijin (the owners of the noodle shop I worked for in Hawaii), if you are reading this, You STILL have the best gyoza I have ever tasted.

My dining partner laughed every time the waitress brought out a dish because I was photographing them for this blog. Funny as he thought it was he started taking his own set of pictures! We were laughing so much I spilled my glass of water which traveled all along the counter and onto some Chinese girl’s jacket... sorry!! He kept laughing at me as I tried to clean up the mess with napkins. He said to me “The waitress saw the mess, and doesn't care about it, why should you?” and we laughed some more.

At 3 PM, the waitress put up the “CLOSED” sign in the window. How odd! The place was packed, why would you close? I guess to give the staff a break and to do some cleaning before the dinner rush.

I highly recommend noodles from Setagaya. I’m taking Herbelicious, Robert, and Ivan there soon, though I’m going to miss being there with my special friend.

We spent the rest of the afternoon roaming the city laughing and enjoying each other’s company. I am going to miss him very much when he leaves. He has changed my life and I hope that I have somehow changed his. I feel a very strong connection to him like I have known him all my life. I have not felt this way about anyone else since my first boyfriend-- and I chalked all those feelings up to first love. Maybe its love, maybe it isn’t. I don't know. Will I ever see him again after he leaves? I don’t know. I hope so.

To Him: If you are reading this, know that you hold a very special place in my heart. I miss you already.
________

I am trying to figure out what it is that makes this connection so special. A wise woman recently told me that if I can figure that out, even when he is gone (physically), we will always be connected--the connection will always be there.

If I can truly figure out the conncetion that we share, I can use that knowledge to connect with every single person I meet every day for the rest of my life. Maybe not as intense of a connection, but none the less, a speical connection. Can you imagine what a fabulous life you would have if you made sure that every encounter you had with someone left such a deep impression? I want to live that kind of life…..

For Real, Seriously.

Scammed on the Streets of NYC!

Featured Reader: Don outNabout by the pool in Odenton, MD


Scammed on Street


One time.....I was on an errand for my boss headed up to 50th and 3rd Avenue. Around 47th Street, a car pulled up. I can’t really tell you the make of the car other than it was a silver SUV. The guy was desperately trying to flag someone down-- Anyone. I felt sorry for the guy. He barely spoke English (or so I thought).

He called me over to the car. He asked me how to get to JFK airport. He apologized that his English was so bad. He kept apologizing. He kept trying to ask me things in Italian. He asked me if I was Italian because of my complexion. I said no that I was Asian/Hawaiian. He asked me if I lived in NYC. I told him yes. I told him that I didn’t know how to get to JFK from where we were because I didn’t drive in NYC-- that I took the train everywhere. He said it was okay. This whole conversation was done in broken English and Italian.

He started to pull away, then stopped and called me back over to the car. He said to me he was “looking for a man”. I immediately thought is this a pick up? Was he looking to get laid before he went home to Italy? What a pervert! He wasn’t all that attractive, though his accent was a little sexy. He explained to me that he was here for fashion week (it is fashion week here in NYC), for the Reportage Georgio Armani show. He said that he had several leather jackets with him for the show, but that he was returning home to Italy and that there would be a hefty tax for returning back with all those jackets. He said he was already taking 6 back for his family but had 3 extra that he was willing to sell.

Alarms went off in my head SCAM! SCAM! SCAM! I told him to give me his business card and I would call him later. He said he was leaving for airport now, that there would be no later. He pulled out a business card that had the name Salvatore or something on it with what looked like the Armani symbol.
It looked legit. He gave me the card and then he got out and opened the door to the back seat. He pulled out a brown leather jacket. It looked nice. He opened it up, showed me the lining showed me it said made in Italy.

He showed me the Armani Buttons. I’m not a fashionista like Herbelicious so I wouldn’t know the difference. It looked real to me. I dialed Herbelicious to see what he would say. He didn’t answer. PRESSURE!!

Salvatore started pulling out 2 other leather jackets still in plastic and on hangers both black leather. They were nice. He opened them up showed me the linings saying made in Italy. Told me that one went for $1200 the other for $900 and the brown one for $1100. He said “I am a good man; I just don’t want to pay tax. I don’t need this jacket. I make you deal, you pay me for one and I give you all 3”.

“How much?” I asked.

Give me $800 price of one jacket and I give you grand deal”. I walked away. SCAM! SCAM! SCAM! was going off in my head. He pulled me back. “You don’t want good deal? Help me out?”

“I don’t have $800 dollars” I said, “sorry”.

“I tell you what…. what you have now I give you deal. I don’t need jacket; I cannot afford tax in Italy”. I looked at the jackets again. “Are you sure they are real?” I asked.

“You open, you try on. You feel. You smell. Its leather” he said. I had a flashback to the pleather jacket I had once bought at Macy’s a few years ago. That Jacket cost me $80 and everyone thought it was real, and that jacket didn’t look as real as these. I had that jacket for years. Just this morning I was thinking that it was getting warmer and that I didn’t really have a spring jacket. These would work.

I felt the jackets, and even smelled them. They were like leather. “How much you got? You help me out please? I need to get directions still and go to airport” he said. Quickly thinking I said $150. I said $150 because if that pleather jacket from Macy’s cost me $80, than surely 2 of these would cost me $150 and he was throwing in a third one for free. (What does pleather stand for any way?) He made a face. For a second I thought he was going to just give me only 1 of them for that price. He reluctantly agreed to give me all 3. I pointed to the bank behind us. I needed to get out cash.

I took out $200 put $40 in my pocket and handed him over $160. I didn’t think he would have change. He didn’t. He said thank you and handed me the bag and got in the car. I stopped him again. I told him to wait as I looked at the jackets again. He stopped and even held the bag open for me as I looked at the jackets. The linings all looked fine. I guessed that $160 for 3 jackets that looked pretty good was a deal even if they were fake. Inside I was hoping they were not.

He sped off really quickly-- I mean really quickly. Vanished. I had a feeling at that moment I was scammed. I don’t recall him taking back the business card, but I no longer had it either.

Herbelicious called me back at that very instant. “What’s up?’ He asked. “Well I will tell you what happened in a bit. I think I was scammed on the street-- but maybe not, you tell me. Let me finish the errand for my boss and I’ll call you back”.

I finished the errand.

I called Herbelicious back. I told him what happened. “It’s a total scam! He was on the news and everything selling things from shoes to ripped suits. WILLIAM!! You know better than to buy things on the street. Are you back at the office yet? Let me see them. My friend bought a suit one time from the same guy i think, and it looked good but when he got home the inside didn’t even have linings!”

I had a sick feeling in my stomach. I spent money I shouldn’t have spent-- Money I could have spent on more important things! “Call me when you get back” Herbelicious said.

I got back to my desk and typed into Google “Salvatore Jacket Scam”. Sure enough articles come up with people spending way more money than I did. One guy even gave him a $500 dollar gold bracelet. I felt sick.

http://www.ripoffreport.com/reports/0/382/RipOff0382085.htm

Herbelicious came to my desk. I pulled them out. “Wow, these are actually nice” he said. Herbelicious tried them on.

I tried them on. They actually fit me pretty well. “They look good on you” Herbelicious said. He checked the linings. “You made a good deal, but this was a total scam. I wish I answered my phone! I wish I was with you! I would have said to him how he sold my friend a crappy suit!” I still felt sick to my stomach.

A co-worker walking by saw the jackets... "wow, what is this, you selling leather jackets on the side?" They were good enough to fool her.

Later that day I told a good friend Mykel what happened. He said "Sounds to me like you didnt get scammed at all. You made a conscious decision for a price based on what you knew, and got 3 of them! thats not a scam at all that's a deal!". I still can't help but feel that I wasted my money.

At least I have 3 coats for the spring now that look pretty good. I’m never buying anything on the street again. The signs were all there and I ignored them. Maybe I still am the Nice Naive Hawaiian Boy everyone thinks I am after all.

For Real! Seriously!

Photo credits: http://theovalcorner.blogspot.com/

A Real New York Moment: Subway Fights Part 2

Featured Reader: Alika outNabout at the Coca Cola Store- Hotlanta, Georgia!



Sometimes being outNabout has nothing to do with being in a physical place, but has to do with experiencing something so unique and different, it could only happen in NYC.


A Real New York Moment :


One time... I was on the 4 Train going home. I hate taking the 4 Train. Every time I take the 4 Train, something crazy happens: a fight; a crazy preacher, or there would be a homeless person begging for money but expects you to give him more than a dollar- not just spare change; crazy stuff like that (I guess normal for the subway now that I think of it-I just feel awkward on the 4 Train). This afternoon was no exception.

I was on the train standing near the door when I noticed the cutest Puerto Rican woman sitting across me reading a book. She was like Rosie Perez, cute- but you could tell that she was feisty. She wore a Gay Pride necklace, black string with rainbow hoops on it. This woman wearing her necklace so full of pride brought me such a great feeling.

The guy sitting across from the woman noticed her too. He was a big Spanish guy maybe 6’3” or 6’4” and muscular (Hot!). He was wearing black tech pants, Converse shoes, a T-shirt, and over his head a do-rag. “I see that you are wearing a Gay Pride necklace. Are you a lesbian?” he asked the woman.

The Woman looked up and replied “I am”. She went back to her book.

“Maybe you just need a real man to show you how it’s done” he told her. Some people snickered and he had the attention of the whole train car now. I got scared. He might not bash a gay woman, but he might bash a gay man, so I turned my attention elsewhere and tried to butch it up as much as possible. I tried not to be noticed. I did turn the music down on my Ipod though.

“No thanks” said the woman, “I tried it. I have two kids, a son and a daughter. I’m pretty happy being a lesbian thank you”.

“Do you have a girlfriend right now?” the man asked.

The woman replied, “Yes I have a partner. We live together”. She was annoyed and tried to get back to her book.

“Interesting” said the guy. “Can I ask you a personal question? Do you kiss your partner in front of your kids?” he asked.

“Yes” replied the woman. “Why?”


The man appeared annoyed. “Now I have nothing against gays” he said, “but when you kiss your partner in front of your children that’s just morally wrong, morally wrong. Kids shouldn’t be exposed to that- to your lifestyle”.

“Morally wrong to show another person unconditional love no matter who they are?’ she replied. “I’m not teaching them to be gay; I’m teaching them to love unconditionally that is not wrong at all”.

“No it’s morally wrong! You planning on teaching your son how to stick something this big (he made an O with his fingers) into a hole only this big too?” (He made a smaller O with his fingers implying anal sex). The Lord Didn’t intend for that. Like I said, I don’t have anything against Gays, but when you involve your kids it’s just morally wrong!” People on the train started laughing. You could see the woman getting heated up. She looked like she was about to burst.

Suddenly she stopped. She took a deep breath. She collected herself and then asked the guy “do you think that it’s morally wrong for a man to hit a woman?”

“Yes” he replied, “I think it’s morally wrong for a man to hit a woman”.

“Why?” She asked.

“Because the woman is the weaker sex. A man is bigger and stronger than a woman. A man hitting a woman is morally wrong”.

“Even if the man is being attacked by a woman, like to defend himself?” She asked.

“Yep, even if a woman started it, it would be morally wrong to hit her. He should be stronger in the mind and know how to deal with it”.

“Well then good” she replied, “because right now I’m going to kick your mother fucking face in, and you are not gonna do shit ‘cause for you to do something to me would be Morally Wrong!” The Woman got up and threw her book down. Suddenly, the train came to a stop and the man bolted off the train.

The woman picked up her book, turned to everyone and announced “I’m sorry everybody, if I knew I was going to be talking about my personal life, I would have printed programs and handed them out”. The whole train car started clapping and several people came over and hugged the woman. It was nice to see all the support this woman got, and I realized that this was something that could only happen outNabout in New York City. I also realized that this is exactly why I don’t like to take the 4 Train.

For real. Seriously!

Thursday Night Fever: A 70's Disco Party

Featured Reader: Priscilla lounging  outNabout in Kent,  Washington (State)



One time… the ad agency I work for, decided to throw our annual holiday party at the end of January! We were so busy with a huge business pitch this past December, that the powers that be decided to postpone the party till the end of January (1-29-09). Was it worth the wait? Totally.


It was a 70’s Disco party held at the Tribeca Film Center in NYC. A costume party! Having just worked the Studio 54 party as a dancer at the Hollywood Casino for New Year’s Eve, I knew exactly what I needed to wear: A John Travolta-esque tight fitted pants (that showed off my ass); long sleeved unbuttoned shirt with a gold chain (showing off my hairy chest);  a vest; slicked back hair and dark shades.

The Tribeca Film Center is the perfect venue to throw a 70’s Disco themed party. Loungy rooms both upstairs and downstairs with bars that were big enough to hold our entire company, yet small enough to create the intimacy of a chic nightclub. They even had a movie theatre, and... A large spinning disco ball!



Desiree, Herbelicious, AnnMarie and I got to the venue early to take pictures (before the crowds came) as well as to get changed. Once we were dressed, the staff of the film center (decked out in their tie dye T-Shirts) confused us for the band that would be playing that night (I think that is why they let us put our things backstage rather than in coat check). I was decked out in my Saturday Night Fever get-up; Desiree in her 70’s Go-Go Girl dress; Herbelicious in his “Rico” costume complete with Afro and feathers for his hair; and AnnMarie in her 70’s Flower Power outfit.

In the main bar, we began snapping pictures of the venue for the event planner.




We had a hard time just taking pictures of the venue. We were too cute. We started posing: Charlie’s Angels; the staircase; and of course, some scandalous Studio 54 shots of Desiree’s legs.


We headed downstairs to the Bacardi Lounge to the FREE photo booth! First Herbert and Desiree, Then Me and Herbert, then Herbert and AnnMarie, then me and Desiree (And later me and Geia).
The Bartender downstairs offered to take some of the margarita salt and make some lines for us on the bar to do some “authentic” 70’s cokehead pictures. We decided to pass on those types of pictures. Don’t want that kind of "gossip" being passed around the work place.

After the photo booth fun, people started arriving for the party. We headed back upstairs to the main party room. Coming up the stairs, Herbelicious and I realized that people did not recognize us.

They especially didn’t recognize Herbelicious under all that hair, and no one seemed to be looking at my face while I was wearing those tight pants. “Nice Pants” people shouted to me from down the hall (lucky I was wearing a dance belt so that it wasn’t too vulgar—well maybe my ass was).




Not too many people came in costume, but those who did went all out. Big Afro’s seemed to be the theme of the night. My favorite afro was the big blonde afro worn by Chauncey-- she could have been Beyonce straight out of the Austin Power’s movie. Chauncey won the contest for the best outfit.


After a couple of announcements by Herbelicious (shouting RICO!) and Desiree pretending to be a singer,  the “real” singers came out. They started off with "Disco Inferno".
The dance captain from my New Year’s Eve Casino gig was right. Every time I heard that song, I would feel the intense need to perform the choreography. Herbelicious and Desiree took to the floor jive dancing and go-go dancing. Herbelicious in his wig and funktified clothes looked strangely real and natural.



The lead girl of the band looked strangely like Drag Goddess/Sex Kitten Heather Daniels from the Atlanta gay scene; who also looks like Paulette from the movie Legally Blonde!

After a quick bite to eat of the really greasy food, on our way back downstairs to the Bacardi Lounge, Herbelicious and I ran into my boss. She seemed to recognize Herbelicious, but not me! I swear I heard her say “Nice Pants!” (Later she put 2 and 2 together).


Back upstairs, the band brought out two of their own go-go dancers decked out in gold-outfits and gold wigs. I must say, that I was a little jaded that my own company didn’t hire me to do this gig. The company I danced for would have had 8 dancers and did choreography, not just shake our asses like these girls did. They brought out hula hoops but couldn’t seem to spin them. Desiree showed them up! She not only did one, but 3! I too had to show these go-go girls up-- I decided to flag.

I flagged on the side as the band performed YMCA and Macho Macho Man. But then the lead singer came down to me and said “I want you with that-- up here on stage”.  Being the attention whore that I am, I put on a show. Pictures were snapped left and right because straight people aren’t familiar with this gay dance form. Someone in the audience said “that boy has Broadway skills”. Another person said “He use to spin fire in a hula show in Hawaii”. Our finance guy moaned “this is turning into a gay club!”

The party was in full swing now. People were drinking and dancing and having a dynamite tubular time. They even had the movie “Saturday Night Fever” playing up on the video screens. People were snapping pictures of Desiree’s and my gold chains: Sexy and Single.



It was starting to get late, and since Tribeca Film Center is near the Bottom of Manhattan, and Herbelcious, me,  and Desiree live in the Bronx, we decided to head home.
We went backstage and changed our clothes. There was no way we could head home on the subway like that. Desiree commented that we were like models just finishing a funky photo shoot.

On our way home, Herbelicious commented that he had nothing to eat at the party because the food wasn't so great. We decided to grab pizza at Famiglia on 44th and 8th, one of the usual pizza stops after a late night of partying. We so hungry! We WERE like starving supermodels who had just finished a funky photo shoot. We took the train to 145th street before Herbeliciouis said “screw this, let’s take a cab the rest of the way”. That is what we did.


For Real. Seriously.