Entries Tagged 'New York' ↓

Spring has finally arrived in New York City, which means that it’s time for the Tribeca Film Festival! If you live in or around NYC, this two-week event is not to be missed. Neighborhood movie theatres open their doors to big, blockbuster premieres (such as Spider-Man 3) and indies hoping to find a distributor. (Transamerica and Air Guitar Nation both found audiences at past TFFs.) Best of all, most events are open to the public for an $18 ticket.

Two years ago, Jen and I saw a live-action version of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs that was originally shot in German but had been dubbed in English. The movie was one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen, and the entire cast had flown from Germany for the screening. You just don’t get that in Iowa.

Check out picks and daily coverage from New York magazine. Fly Away Cafe has a list of free festival events. And of course, don’t forget the Festival’s official site for synopses on all 150-plus movies.

Today I did something I never thought I would do: I intentionally ran screaming into 45 degree water. And I was sober. Why would I do such a thing, you ask? Well, my good friend Brenda told me she was writing an article about the Polar Bear Club for the New York Daily News and asked me if I would like to take the plunge with her. When she told me her swim was scheduled for my birthday, the whole event seemed like kismet, and I knew I had to do it.

I am generally a warm water girl. I grew up in West Palm Beach, where the ocean was always above 75 degrees, even in February. I would never swim in my parents’ pool unless the water was more than 85 degrees. On several occasions, I have been canoeing or at the beach in New York, and I have been completely satisfied with only dipping a toe in the frigid water. My fiancé doubted that I would complete the Polar Bear swim today.

The gods were smiling down on me today, my 28^th birthday. For mid-December in New York, the temperature was a balmy 47 degrees with not a cloud in the sky. Jared and I met Brenda at Coney Island, and all the Polar Bears greeted us like new friends. They offered tips on how to maintain body heat and they emphasized that it was not a competition—if we weren’t feeling well, we should leave the water immediately.

There were approximately 50 swimmers at Coney Island today. Many were grizzled vets with thick Brooklyn accents, and some were newbies like us. Before the swim, we gathered in a huge circle in the sand and did jumping jacks to get the blood flowing. And then we charged the water.

I ran screaming in the wintry water, holding hands with Jared and Brenda. Immediately my lungs began to contract, and I had trouble breathing. I was taking deep breaths, but I couldn’t get enough air, and there was a searing pain my chest. The water was freezing, so cold that it felt like a thousand needles against my skin. Fortunately there were 50 crazy people in the water yelling and screaming, so I had a distraction from the pain. I got in up to my neck, which makes my swim official by Polar Bear standards.

In order to become an official Polar Bear, you have to do 12 swims in one season, which is not going to happen for me. I am a proud Polar Bear Cub, and I will have bragging rights for the rest of my life. Now I know that I can do anything I set my mind to—even swim in freezing cold water.

New York women are tough as nails. They wear skirts with bare legs in the winter, they apply liquid eyeliner on a moving subway, and run around all day on stilettos. I am not one of those New York women.

Cold is relative.

New York is a city of limitless possibilities, which may explain why my next career always seems more appealing than my current one.

Netflix, really warm boots, and an iPod are essential for getting through the winter.

Yankee Stadium takes my breath away every time. Some people wait their whole lives to see a game there, and I go ten times each season.

Sooner or later, every band comes to town.

Sooner or later, all my friends come to visit.

I can get a direct flight to every city worth visiting.

In New York, I am the master of my city. In London, Washington D.C., or Los Angeles, I am just another lost tourist.

Driving is totally overrated. Being driven rocks.

Prevously: What I’ve Learned: Part 1

I jinxed spring. Last night I waxed poetic about the beauty of the new season, and today we got a hefty dose of winter. Right now, big fat snowflakes are furiously pouring down in Manhattan.

The good news? No lines at the Shake Shack! Burgers for everyone!

(Image via Gawker)

My friends and family in the warmer climates of Florida and California can not quite appreciate the yearly miracle that is spring. After four or five long months of bare trees, gray skies, below freezing temperatures, and 5pm sunsets, spring breathes life into the weary city. But what, specifically, do I love about spring? A sampling… 

Plain old restaurants morph into sidewalk cafes, and New York starts to look like Paris. I’ll gladly sacrifice the square footage on the pavement.

The city resembles a giant Easter basket. Trees that only two weeks ago resembled collections of sticks are now bedecked in pink or white flowers. The flowers eventually drop off and reveal bright green leaves. Yellow daffodils decorate the grounds of parks. Even the Empire State Building gets into the act, wearing yellow and white lights at night.

Suddenly I can wear my skirts and short sleeve shirts! After months in wool pants and sweaters, it’s like doubling my wardrobe for free!

Sunsets in December are at 4:30. By March, it’s around 6:00. After this weekend’s time change, we’re up to 7:23pm. Yay!!

Walking to work is fun again. No longer do I have to huddle in the subway station because it’s 20 degrees outside.

The Shake Shack is open! Home to some of the best burgers, fries, and ice cream East of In-N-Out Burger, the Shake Shack is a seasonal affair in the middle of Madison Square Park, right in my ‘hood.

Yankee Stadium is alive again! The Boys of Summer are back, and judging by last night’s grand slam by A-Rod, this year’s Bronx Bombers are going to be wonderful to watch.

I just witnessed a homeless man on the street asking everyone for $10, I think to buy a sandwich. Since when do homeless people ask for $10? Prices are going up!

Last night I saw Hedda Gabler at BAM. Now Hedda is not exactly a light, uplifting play, so it’s not normally something I would run (ok, hobble) to go see, but this production had the one and only Cate Blanchett in the title role.

I’ve been a fan of Ms. Blanchett’s work since Elizabeth, for which she should have won an Oscar. (Gwynnie was good and all, but I don’t think anyone but Blanchett could have humanized the first Queen Elizabeth. My guy was under the impression Elizabeth was in the vein of Pride and Prejudice, but if anything it’s more like Braveheart. Put it on the queue if you haven’t seen it. But I digress.)

My expectations were high for her performance, and she did not disappoint. Her actions were big and theatrical enough to carry to our high mezzanine seats, but you could still see realizations wash over her face and know instantly what Hedda was thinking. The entire Australian cast was excellent, including Hugo Weaving of The Matrix, Lord of the Rings, and more recently V for Vendetta fame. I highly recommend seeing this production, but tickets are scarce.

By the way, this is why I love living in New York. This stuff doesn’t happen in West Palm Beach.