Shock Culture Reverse

Jay, Diane and I went into the city on Saturday (Jay was on "furlough" from summer camp). Jay and I split off from Diane.

We walked through Times Square and up Sixth Avenue and Fifth Avenue. And kept encountering people giving away free stuff.

First, we were handed some Nestles Crunch bars. A little further along, we got some Excedrin pain reliever. Finally, near the Apple Store on Fifth Avenue, we were given bags of microwave popcorn to promote the movie "Final Destination 3."

So, I suppose we could eat the candy bar and the popcorn. Then take some Excedrin if they give us a headache!

New Jersey Transit trains have electronic signs at the end of each car that often produce impromptu poetry, such as the "verse" I spotted this morning:

NEVER GET ON
OR OFF A
MOVING TRAIN

Going home on the train last night, some fellow passengers and I had a unique experience: a young man making a loud call on his cellphone with the speakerphone option turned on.

Yes, you guessed it. We got to listen to both sides of the conversation.

Cellphone users are unavoidable on the train and fall into several categories:

- Very considerate: keep their voices low and their conversations short and sweet, e.g. "Hi, I'm on the 5:20, I'll be home at 6:10. Bye."

- Considerate: keep their voices low, but the conversations go on longer.

- Not-so-considerate: loud talkers, short or long

- Really inconsiderate and clueless: loud talkers who appear to be totally unconscious that others around them are trying to sleep, read, etc. Especially annoying when the conversations are either very work-oriented ("YES, WE'LL SELL 50 AND THEN MOVE ON TO STRATEGIC RECONVERSION OF BLAHBLAH. PLEASE PASS THE WORD ALONG TO JIM AND THE REST OF THE TACTICAL OPERATIONS TEAM") or personal ('MY COLONOSCOPY IS SCHEDULED FOR THURSDAY. THEY SHOVE THIS TUBE UP ....").

Luckily, the clueless ones are relatively scarce.

Older woman on a cellphone: "I'm just going home sloshed."

For a change, I'm attending a professional event: the South Asian Journalism Association. Events include a panel on blogging, which I plan to attend. Maybe this thing will improve!

When you emerge from Penn Station or the heavily used subway entrance on Times Square just around the corner from my office in the morning, you almost always encounter one or more people offering one of two free newspapers, Metro or AM New York. I often walk right by them because I already have a paper and possibly other reading matter.

This morning, a young man handing out AM New York had a novel approach.

"It's got words in it," he told me.

I still didn't take the paper, but I had to laugh.

Every now and then, I need to get in touch with my Inner Brit. So, yesterday, I bought a bottle of Pimm's No. 1, a refreshing, lightly alcoholic drink mix. The drink is called Pimm's Cup.

You put some ice in a glass, pour in some Pimm's, then ginger ale, lemonade or lemon-lime soda (think 7-Up or Sprite), add a slice of lemon and -- viola! (misspelling intentional) -- you have the perfect summer drink. It refreshes and takes the edge off without slowing you down.

Diane and I had Pimm's yesterday and today (AFTER work, NOT for breakfast). If I closed my eyes, I could almost imagine those cool London summers on the terrace of our flat in Belsize Park.

Ahhhh ...

NB: I was introduced to Pimm's by a friend from Brooklyn, when we still lived in New York.

Last week, running late, I jumped on the train.

Turns out that it was the wrong train. Instead of the Morris and Essex Line train headed for Murray Hill, I was on North Jersey Coast line headed for Bay Head on the Jersey Shore. Much as I like the Shore, I don't like going there during the work week.

I didn't realize I was on the wrong train for some time -- I was reading. I looked up from my book, noticed some oil tanks out the window and thought, "I don't remember ever seeing any oil tanks on my route."

I soon learned I was on an express train for South Amboy.

I got off at South Amboy. After a wait of about an hour, I was on a train headed back the other way. I got off at Secaucus, the last stop before New York. I had never been in the station and my train was late. So, doing my best headless chicken impression, I ran for my next train.

I got off that train in Newark, then got my fourth and last train of the day, to Summit, the big town where the Morris and Essex line splits into two branches.

I would have had a 45-minute wait for the train to Murray Hill, but Diane took pity on me and drove over to pick me up. I got home nearly 3-1/2 hours after I had left New York and 2-1/2 hours after I had expected to arrive home.

But it wasn't all bad. Diane and our friend, Joann, who was visiting from Philadelphia, knew I would be tired, hungry and grouchy from the long ride. So, they made a very nice meal which erased the entire bad trip. Well, nearly erased!

I finally got around to buying a grill: a Weber "Smokey Joe" portable model. I also bought a chimney starter, my first. It's a metal cylinder a little bigger than a coffee can with a handle that enables you to light the charcoal and get it burning very quickly.

After years of struggling -- often clumsily and comically -- with newspaper, lighter fluid or paraffin starters, I have finally found something that makes grilling a joy.

It's so easy now that last night, after work, I fired up Smokey and grilled some hot dogs. Diane, meanwhile, heated up some beans.

The dogs were scorched, blistered and just a little bit burned. Diane and I ate them on the steps in the back of our house. The weather was cool for this time of year, so it was just right.

Heaven.