Leaky Faucets

Today in class we talked about wine.  The topic was much more interesting than I expected partly because I know so little, meaning everything was new to me.  One thing I learned is that no matter how hard I try I simply cannot describe the taste of wine.  Unlike others in my class, I simply cannot tell if it is earthy or full of tannins or oaky or if it has a note of cherry.  All I know is if it tastes good or bad and whether it affects my ability to operate heavy machinery.  As far as the latter goes, even though I was drinking on an empty stomach, there wasn’t enough to even give me a buzz.

Besides the fact that it’s blisteringly hot today and the urge to turn on the air conditioner occurred to me for the first time in months, the real sign that warmer weather has finally arrived is the first appearance of the mango guy outside the corner bodega on 37^th Avenue and 73^rd Street.  He sells boxes of a dozen mangoes for five or six bucks a box.  A small crowd gathered around the sidewalk stand, many of them probably friends of his from the neighborhood like the Muslim man with the white skullcap who was protecting himself from the sun with an umbrella.  Several emptied cardboard boxes were stacked on the side, a sign of brisk sales on one of the first warm days of the year, a day where people are no longer hurrying to get back inside and are content to linger for a while.

The confluence of the recent rash of corporate consolidation and the selling of naming rights of sports stadiums has led to an amusing phenomenon: each time a company merges with another (or goes bankrupt in the case of Enron), the team must change the name of the stadium to reflect the new corporate ownership.  The San Francisco Giants, for instance, left 3Com Park (nee Candlestick Park) for their new, glistening ballpark on the Bay, Pac Bell Park, now AT&T Park by way of SBC Park.  Similarly, the Phoenix Suns now play at the US Airways Center after being housed at the America West Arena, which are actually the same building, and the Washington Bullets (now the politically correct and more corporate-friendly Wizards) formerly occupied the US Air Arena in suburban Maryland until moving to the downtown Washington MCI Center now known as the Verizon Center.

This whole train of thought crossed my mind when I heard that Barry Bonds broke Babe Ruth’s home run mark at AT&T Park.  I almost gagged when I heard that.  At least there are a few non-corporate ballparks left.  I wonder if the Yankees will give in when the build their new stadium.

 When a man leaves his wife for another man, what does he do with his wedding ring?  Why not make it into a necklace?

Something deeply disturbed me in my first reading assignment for my hotel class.  The chapter was called “Managing Human Resources” and in it was a discussion of factors contributing to what the writer deemed a labor crisis.  The part that bothered me was that landmark labor laws that are vital to the protection of workers in this country such as the Fair Labor Standards Act, the Civil Rights Act of 1964, the Occupational Safety and Health Act (OSHA) and the Americans with Disabilities Act are discussed within the context of the labor crisis.  I understand that the readings are geared toward people interested in management, but that doesn’t mean they should undermine the fundamental rights of workers.

Those rubber bracelets of all different colors with all sorts of inspirational messages have become so ubiquitous that they have been rendered meaningless at this point.  Empty slogans and empty gestures.  Really, I think it’s about fashion now if it wasn’t from the beginning with the Lance Armstrong yellow “Live Strong bracelet.  Style over substance.  What else is new?

Some people run up the stairs after they get off the train.  I don’t understand this behavior.  Running so you don’t miss the train makes sense.  I do it all the time and it often makes a difference.  Sometimes I run and there’s no train at all.  I look kind of silly and have to wait.  I don’t care though.  I’d rather run just in case.

“Out of Step” by Minor Threat came up on my iPod this morning.  In the song, the 20ish Ian MacKaye defiantly proclaimed: “I don’t drink, don’t smoke, don’t fuck, at least I can fucking think…I’m out of step with the world…”Twenty plus years later, does he still hold on to this monkish lifestyle?

The crowd at ESPN Zone last night was quite amusing to watch. The cast of characters included the Mets fan with the orange Carlos Beltran #15 shirt perched at the bar with his friend, a Yankees fan, taunting him from behind as the Mets dipped and the Yankees soared on TV screens at opposite ends of the bar. There were the two corporate hacks, smartly dressed in suits, flirting with two young blond-haired students from Dallas, who were there to watch the Mavericks game.

Then there was the guy I assumed was from Cleveland because of his nasal accent when he excitedly told someone on the other end of a cell phone call that he was at ESPN Zone in Times Square and because of his enthusiastic response to the Cavaliers victory over Detroit. He was wearing a t-shirt with “666″ in large print on the back. The front had what looked like the name of a metal band, though I didn’t get a good look. He didn’t appear to be a Satanist-his shirt was tucked neatly into his shorts-but nonetheless, he seemed like the most interesting person in the place.

I went there after class. It was the closest place I could think of that I could catch the second half of the Cavs game. I sat on a stool behind the bar and enjoyed the game and the scene.

Judging from the ice-breaking exercises we did in class yesterday, I don’t expect to make any friends.  Then again, I never do.  I don’t have much in common with other people, but I often make friends with others who are outcasts.  I’m not in the class for social purposes so I guess it doesn’t really matter.  The people are nice enough, but they seem a bit shallow and money-oriented.