I Flunked Geography

The other day, I looked at a map of New York and discovered that the City of Syracuse is not located where I thought it was. I had always believed it to be due north of Albany along New York's eastern boundary. Rather, it finds itself dead center in the state. I also learned that somewhat-familiar and funny-sounding municipalities like Poughkeepsie and Schenectady are not part of the immediate New York City metropolitan area. I had heard of them, but always assumed they were somewhere north of The Bronx, "up there by Yonkers or something." I didn't know where the Catskills are or any other mountain ranges, lakes and rivers in the state. I realized that I'm acquainted with New York City, but New York State might as well be a foreign country.

New York City is its own little world relative to the State. Probably because it is a mini version of the world. I wonder if NYC and northeast New Jersey just started floating toward the ocean. If no one said anything, would I even notice? And when I finally did, how much time would have passed?

This creates something of an identity gap. Hierarchically speaking, in Minneapolis I would have said I live in Minneapolis, in Hennepin County, in Minnesota, and in the United States. Here, I identity myself as living in the Kensington neighborhood, in Brooklyn, in New York City, and in the United States. The notion of being a New York State resident just doesn't factor because I never think about it.

If anything, I think of myself as a WI/MN State resident living in NYC. Maybe it's just a matter of time before the residency ties to my roots become weaker, but maybe they'll remain strong. The overwhelming majority people I know in NYC are not from New York City or State. I should discuss this with my friends in the city, but perhaps it fair to say we share the common characteristic of living in New York City, but our hometowns are what we use to keep us unique in this crazy place. The reality of being a New York resident will hit me soon. I'm doing my taxes this weekend.

Happy Anniversary

It was a year ago today that my one-way ticket took me from MSP to JFK and I became a New York City resident. Don’t call me a New Yorker though. That term takes years to acquire. I think there are two elements (certainly more) that one must come to know before assuming the New Yorker label.
1) Geography. This city is so large. There are so many spots in the city that I haven't sufficiently explored. In Manhattan, I've never explored anything in detail above Columbia University at 116th St. The Upper West and East Sides remain vague to me. I can become lost in the maze that is the West Village, but that's a problem for a lot of people I suppose. Anything 9th Ave. and west is hazy to me. In the Bronx, I've only been to Yankee Stadium. My only time in Queens has been to travel to its outer fringe to the Queens County Courthouse for my old part-time job so I don't know what Astoria, Jackson Heights, or any of Queens’s incredibly diverse neighborhoods look like. In my borough, Brooklyn, I feel comfortable enough, though there's much more to see. And I've never set foot on Staten Island. It takes time, but I've got to see more of what's out there.
2) Change. The city is constantly changing. New restaurants, shops, and bars open and close all the time. Museum exhibitions come and go. Another skyscraper is built. The latest publicity stunt makes us laugh. The nation watches the drama of something like a transit strike unfold. A neighborhood is revitalized. These changes continue to captivate me like a tourist gawking upward at the tallest building he's ever seen. I'll always want to be captivated by what I see here, but there will come a time when I'll look at the latest change and it will be second nature to me. I’ll say, "Neat. Something new, and that's why New York is so great."
One bit of advice I would offer anyone wanting to move to New York–don’t think that your life here will be like Sex and the City's Carrie Bradshaw. In the series, it doesn't take much for Carrie to orgasm whenever someone says "New York City!" It can be easy to fall into this mind trap of thinking one will be sipping cocktails at the trendiest lounge every night, or that window-shopping on sunny days is done every weekend. Routine will always manage to creep itself into any life.
But I will admit that there is a magic to the city. A lot of it derives from the countless films, television shows, and writings that have become etched in our minds over time. These impressions have shaped my perception, but ultimately, the city just speaks for itself. Think about it. Eight million people live in the city proper. That’s Minneapolis times 21, Madison times 38, and Eau Claire times 130. They come from all over the world and have been doing so for a very long time. Look at how distinct each neighborhood is. The culture that is endlessly produced. Look at the landscape and remark that today's towering skyscrapers used to rest on farms and swamps. What an achievement New York is, and so great because it's a testament to what happens when we come together.
So I'm glad to be here. The city has grown on me and my love for it has increased since I arrived. Even though I've been here a year, I still feel like I'm just getting started, that there's just so much more to do. The daunting task is not knowing if it can all be done in a lifetime.

Oh What a Night!: Update

Nothing terribly exciting to report. The handyman came by yesterday and he arranged the hallway in such a way that the raccoon would be forced to enter the trap. Once in the trap, he became considerably fiesty and erratic. The hissing and that low growl–now that's a pissed off critter. The raccoon now lives in Prospect Park.
I became curious about raccoons after having one lived with one for the past six weeks. I came across this website that details the life of a pet raccoon, told from the perspective of Remo the Raccoon himself. Remo's owners must really love him because "With the help of a flabbergasted lawyer, they arranged in their will for me and any other pets to live out our lives in our own house with a live-in housekeeper," in the event of their untimely deaths.
I learned from the website that or raccoon was probably in his mating phase which explains the hot raccoon on umbrella action I witnessed two nights ago. Another sign was the smearing of shit all over the walls, sink and mirror in the bathroom he had been locked in overnight. He did this to mark his territory although I'm sure he ended up marking some of his territory on himself in the process. Cleaning that bathroom was my fun little project today.
Raccoons are really cute animals. Too bad they're such bitches too. (By the way, the raccoon in the cartoon is saying, "Smile for Remo!"

Oh What A Night!

I'm just coming off physically battling the raccoon, man versus beast, for the last hour and a half.
Background information- A raccoon has been living in the attic of my house for the past month and a half. It entered through the roof and subsequently clawed a hole into my roommate's walk-in closet. Pete, our handyman, patched the first hole, but the raccoon created a second hole and rummaged through the garbage. Refer to the wood chipper description in an earlier entry. Since then, a cage trap has been installed and we have barricaded my roommate's closet door with an air conditioner to ensure that even if the raccoon enters the closet, it cannot enter the house. Every night, we have heard the raccoon creeping above us on the attic floor and we have heard it crawling about inside the closet. The raccoon is much too intelligent to be trapped. It is able to enter the cage, eat the donuts that activate the trap door, but still manage to use its paws to open the trap door and escape! After discussing the inadequacy of the trap with my roommate yesterday evening, we decided the only way the raccoon was to be caught was by trapping it somewhere in the house, and barricading the closet door so that it would not have an escape route back into the attic. Gather round now, for my story is set to begin...
It was a night like any other. The moon shined bright through the branches. A mild gust sounded through––okay, maybe not too much detail. Resume story. Around 1:00am, just as I lay myself to bed, I heard the raccoon enter the closet and I decided this would be the night I would catch our furry fourth roommate. I removed the air conditioner from the door. This scared the raccoon back into the attic so I was now ready to prepare my snare. I formed a trail of breadcrumbs from the closet door to the bathroom located directly across the hall. The idea being that I would hear the raccoon walk across the hallway and hear it shuffle about inside the bathroom. That didn't quite happen. At one point, I heard the toilet seat slam down and I thought the raccoon could not have done that because surely I would have heard it crawling around the closet into the bathroom, the sound of its claws click-clacking across the tiled floor. Bear in mind that it was 1:15am and my bedroom borders the bathroom.
First time I lost it–I figured the raccoon's movement must have eluded me so I took a deep breath, and then quickly opened my door so that I could shut the bathroom door. Maybe a raccoon is too fast or I am too slow, but just as I opened my door, I saw it scurry in front of me about two feet. I slammed my door and attempted to regain my composure. It's a little daunting to see forest wildlife run past, and so close to you when you do not expect it. It's also a bit nerve-wracking when you see (and completely underestimate) the size of the raccoon. It was HUGE. It was about 2 1/2 feet long and it was so fat and round, surely a full-grown adult. It ran back into the closet and I surveyed the bathroom. Raccoon paw tracks and breadcrumbs everywhere.
Okay, so that didn't work. Time now to lure it further from the closet door so I can shut it. Otherwise, it's just going to run back in where it's safe. I grabbed some chocolate cake and scattered it near the closet door left open ajar. I then positioned myself in the dark hallway, umbrella in hand as my weapon, so that when it came out to eat the cake, I could guide it into the bathroom and close the door. A few minutes later, the raccoon emerged and began eating the cake. I made a slight movement and it ran back into the closet only to return a few seconds later. It's odd...with every movement I made, the raccoon would retreat, then emerge less and less until it got to the point that I could make any movement I wanted and the raccoon didn't care. The raccoon also didn't care for the cake and started to walk towards me! I pointed the umbrella's tip near its face, but this didn't startle it.
Second time I lost it–At one point, the raccoon lunged toward the umbrella with its paws wide open and came to hug the umbrella right out of my hand. I thought the raccoon would ignore the umbrella once it analyzed the object close enough, but it did something rather bizarre. It started playing with the umbrella by hugging it and rolling around on the floor. At one point the raccoon's chin was rested on the floor while the rest of its body continued wresting with the umbrella. He was kind of like a cat playing with a toy coated with catnip.
Eventually, the raccoon's fun with the umbrella (which I intend to throw away) quieted down. I became scared, not only because it had made a forceful move toward me, but also because I now had no object with which to fend the critter off if it came after me again. I positioned myself on the banister of the staircase that leads to the second floor so that I found myself on higher ground. Still, the raccoon slowly approached me. Repeated attempts to scare it away only put it at ease to approach me further each time. Soon enough, it got close enough to be able to smell my feet. Quite peculiar, wherever my feet moved, its nose moved with it. So I removed my sock and dangled it in front of its nose. I then threw the sock down the staircase and it chased after it! This was my time to set up the blockade and I shut the closet door and sealed it by sliding the air conditioner in front of it. Success number one!
The sock came to bore the raccoon so it ventured back up the stairs. At the top of the stairs, I startled the raccoon and it ran towards the closet only to find there was no entry. It then ran into the bathroom and I shut the door. Yes! Problem is with that bathroom door, it does not shut all the way. If one shuts the door, the door always becomes ajar. My solution then, was to tie the cord of the air conditioner around the doorknob (the AC was the only workable object within my grasp as I had to continue holding the door shut). I placed the air conditioner at a distance with the cord completely stretched out so the door would not fall open. The raccoon started to go crazy inside banging on the door. Success number 2!?
Thinking I had successfully contained it, I started to clean up all the cake and other objects on the floor and went downstairs into the kitchen to throw everything away. Then I heard the door slam several times. I could tell the door had slammed against the doorframe, and that meant the raccoon had escaped. How?! Was this raccoon possessed by the devil? I couldn't understand how this creature came to be so powerful. I then remembered that the only door open upstairs since I had departed was MY bedroom door.
I grabbed a broom and headed upstairs to find the raccoon rummaging through my wastepaper basket. I felt confident in battling the trashy pillager. I guided the raccoon toward the door with the broom and boy did that upset it! It tried to stand its ground while staring at me and hissing loudly. I kept thinking it could attack me like it attacked the umbrella. I continued using the broom to guide the raccoon and along the way, it left a nice souvenir, a brown steamy turd (picture below). Finally, it made its way into the half bathroom. I closed the door (this door actually shuts) and went upstairs to fetch the air conditioner so I could place it in front of the door. You never can tell with this raccoon. As I walked upstairs, the door of the bathroom (one of those cheap hollow doors) began shaking incredibly violently. The doorknob rattled. Machine gun-like scratching sounded up and down the door. I couldn't believe what was happening. Tip: If you're ever making a movie and want to make it appear that a poltergeist/zombie is trapped in a closet/small bathroom, and the poltergeist/zombie is desperately trying to escape, put a raccoon in the small space and you'll get the desired effect. Anyway, there was no time to go upstairs to retrieve the air conditioner (cord still securely tied around doorknob) so I dashed into the kitchen, unplugged and lifted the microwave with incredible haste and strength, and set it against the door. Success at last!
The raccoon is in there now trying every possible way to get out and it is rather loud. My only concern is that it'll scratch its way through the cheap hollow door. I feel kind of bad for it. Last time I was downstairs, I could hear it panting quite heavily, almost unhealthily. Even though it’s been a menace to us, I must admit it is pretty cute. The picture above is when I chased it out of my room and it began chewing my roommate's tennis shoes. The photo below is where it is at the moment.
Okay, time to go to bed. I've been up all night trying to catch and writing about the raccoon. The story is not over yet. I'll provide an update in a future entry.

Happy 2006

I hope everyone had a wonderful New Year's Eve. Mine almost suffered a setback. Dave and I headed to a party in the meatpacking district, but we realized soon enough we were not going to make it to the party in time before midnight. So with four minutes to spare, we ducked into a Mexican restaurant/bar, ordered two shots of tequila, and welcomed 2006 celebrating with people we didn't know. But it didn't matter. New York City is positively the best place to be for New Year's Eve.
Before moving here, three of my visits to New York fell on New Year's Eve so my first impressions of NY are those found around this time of year. It's the energy of the city that I love this time of year. The city is just so full of life and I'm not sure what it is. Christmas shoppers? Tourists? Parties? Maybe I'm imagining this up in my head? The window displays at Bergdorf Goodman certainly contributes to the energy. So does the smell of toasted nuts from a street vendor's cart. A solo visit to the Met Friday night, the day before Christmas Eve is therapeutic. And nothing beats an afternoon stroll through Central or Prospect Park, hot coffee in hand. Maybe it's this time of year that New York is closest to that ideal image of what makes New York the city loved by so many, including myself.
I'm excited to begin 2006 here. I think it will be a good year. I’ll start working and will continue to discover the city. Since 2000, the even numbered years seem to be the better ones for me. I hope i2006 is a good one for you too.