How the Grinch Stole Ramadan

I'm going to try to write this out quickly because it's midnight and I have to get up in six hours for yet another day of singing myself hoarse.

Tonight was the final night of Alexander Nevsky at the NY Philharmonic (which went very well, by the way) , and there was a little bit of panic backstage before the beginning of the concert. The chorus is usually called 15 minutes before curtain, but on nights when we get paid, like tonight, most people show up early to collect their checks. So it was incredibly strange that a handful of very reliable people did not show up at call time, or five minutes later, or even ten minutes later. A mere two minutes before we went on stage, they showed up, dripping with sweat (one of whom wasn't even in his tux yet!), with reports that someone had been hit by a train on the 1 line and the trains were suspended from 28th Street all the way up to 96th (Lincoln Center is at 66th Street, so this was clearly a problem).

Normally, we singers budget extra time in case things like this happen, because it's New York, and it's best to be prepared because you never know what new disaster might strike. And normally in situations like this when the subway service gets suspended, we all get out of the subway and try to hail a cab along with the rest of the hundreds of riders.

However, tonight is the final day of Ramadan, and about 80% of the cab drivers in the city were at prayers, so there were hardly any cabs to hail. These poor schmucks had to hoof it or bus it from as far away as 110th Street, and they barely made it there on time. Oy. I'm just thanking my lucky stars that I wasn't on any of those trains. And I'm hoping against hope I don't get stuck in traffic tomorrow when I have to zoom from my church job 100 miles away in NJ back to Lincoln Center for a different concert. Please, send good thoughts my way. Or if you happen to have something good to offer the traffic gods, I'd appreciate a sacrifice or two in my favor...

Election frustration

I know I may be in the country's minority when it comes to stuff like this, but I actually like to be informed about elections before I go to the polls in November. I regularly listen to NPR to keep up to date on general news, but I've noticed in the past that very little is usually mentioned in the news reports about local New Jersey politics, and I've had to turn to other sources of information to make my decision.

This year is no different. Yes, NJ is being mentioned a little more because we have a Democratic incumbent who is trying to hold onto his seat, and this may be the year the Democrats regain control over Congress, etc., etc. (which may or may not be wishful thinking), but I've heard nothing really that informative on the radio about either Menendez or Kean.

Here's what I have been exposed to through the media thus far: both Menendez and Kean are participating in smear campaigns against each other. Menendez is saying Kean is just a mouthpiece for Bush, and Kean is trying to take the moral high ground by questioning the special interest sources for campaign money Menendez has been receiving (which is kind of like the pot calling the kettle black, if you ask me). I've looked at various news feeds online and found out that Menendez's favorite TV show is Alias, and Kean is a Springsteen fan. I also found out that Menendez is up by a tiny bit in the polls, due to the fact that A) he's got more money in his campaign than Kean, and B) the Foley scandal seems to be hurting Kean's standing.

I have not, however, learned anything relevant about their stances on any issues. Oh, yes, I can visit their campaign sites and sift through their well-laid-out PR rigmarole, but obviously each candidate is going to spin things in his favor. But I'd love to have a newspaper article or a website that actually compared their positions side by side. Sure, the Courier-Post will probably run a very short blurb about the candidates and their positions a week before the election, but frankly, I've found all of NJ's newspapers to be sadly lacking in election coverage. No wonder there's so much corrupt government in NJ!! None of the voters are well-informed!

Luckily there is indeed a website that compares each candidate's viewpoints objectively, and I find it incredibly helpful. Project Vote Smart is a mostly volunteer, nonpartisan organization that works to inform ignorant voters (such as myself) by reporting the results of a National Political Awareness Test that is administered to all candidates for presidential, congressional, gubernatorial, and state legislative offices.

Granted, not all candidates complete this test. But the mere fact that those people are not willing to state for the record how they weigh in on some of the most important issues facing our country makes me think twice about voting for them.

So do I know who I'm going to vote for? I know where I'm leaning. After all, I want the Democrats back in control of Congress, and I'm not ashamed to admit it. But do I like Menendez? ...Eh. I really wish there were more strong choices besides those two (the other contenders include: two Socialists, a Libertarian, and Edward "NJWeedman" Forchion from the Legalize Marijuana Party - always an entertaining candidate if nothing else).

Oh yeah, and there are other things on the ballot too, like a seat in the House of Representatives and three different questions to ponder. Honestly, I wouldn't have known any of this if it weren't for Project Vote Smart, because even in today's age of information, people in my community either don't care enough to write or speak about these issues or some people in high places are going out of their way to not keep the public informed. Either way, it makes me mad as hell.

Comestible victuals

When I moved to New Jersey several years ago, I was struck by the lack of good restaurants near our house. We live in suburbia, and apparently there is no demand out here for anything of a higher caliber than Applebee's or TGI Friday's, and while those types of restaurants have their place in society, it bores my palate to tears. So I am incredibly surprised that in the past four days I have dined at not one, but two establishments that have woken my tongue back up and made me enjoy eating once again.

The first restaurant was in Delanco, New Jersey, a little out of the way spot called Cafe Europa, which was introduced to me by a friend and colleague who has grown up here in NJ. A bunch of us went there, and not only was I impressed by the homey atmosphere (there were tables, of course, but also couches and a fireplace), but the food was outstanding. I find that there is no taste at all in the food those chain restaurants pump out; in contrast, this place produces plates created with care and attention to detail. And the price was very reasonable; most of the good restaurants in suburbia can only stay open by charging exorbitant prices. These guys have been open a little over two years, and I hope they stay open much, much longer, because I'm definitely going back there.

Tonight I went to a restaurant in New York with another friend. Whenever I meet this particular friend for a meal, we have our standard favorite hang-outs, and we both admitted we were getting stuck in a groove. So we decided to branch out tonight and go somewhere new. I picked Sueños because it had a good review in New York Magazine. It was a little pricey, but SO worth it. The restaurant itself is gorgeous (including the crazy mirrors in the bathroom!). Our waiters were attentive but not overbearing, and the food..oh my goodness, the food! The executive chef, Sue Torres, really knows what she's doing. I definitely would recommend that if you are in New York for any period of time, you get your collective butts over to 17th St. & 8th Ave. and have yourselves a truly tasty evening.

Can't sleep, clowns will eat me

The last week or so, I've been having trouble sleeping. It's been a combination of anxiety and the lack of Ray in the bed (he's been up at the PA Renaissance Faire almost every day for school days and such, and when he's not in PA, he's been working late hours to catch up with his regular job). Nothing alarming, but it's starting to affect me during the day, and if I don't watch myself, I could get sick, and getting sick in the middle of a busy singing month is definitely something I want to avoid.

When I have been sleeping, however, I've been dreaming the most amazing, vivid dreams. Some of them are your typical anxiety dreams (e.g., I have a solo at a concert and I'm naked and I don't know any of the words), but my favorites are the adventure dreams. Those of you who know me from high school may remember the mornings when I would come to school and relate my dream state adventures. Though I know most of the adventures contain your textbook Jungian symbolism and would make for a really good doctoral thesis for some psychology student if I bothered to write any of them down, I only enjoy them because I become the hero in my own little movie or novel.

I won't bore you with the details of the last few adventure dreams, but one that really struck me recently I dreamt on Monday night. In my dream, I was on a ship in the Pacific, and I was in the middle of a huge storm, like a tornado or something terribly unnatural. The next morning, I found out that North Korea had tested a nuclear weapon underground. Normally, I don't put any stock in prophetic dreams (having never actually dreamt a prophetic dream), but this was pretty chilling.

Of course, I could have just been freaked out by the fact that North Korea has developed a nuclear bomb. That's chilling enough right there.

Can't run a train without power

Why is it that when we're in a rush, all the forces of the universe seem to conspire against us in order to make our lives more difficult?

This morning, I had a rehearsal in New York at 10 AM. Now, if I still lived in New York, I would be rejoicing that I could wake up a little later, maybe meander over to Lincoln Center, stopping off at the bagel place for some breakfast. But since I live a good 100 miles away in South Jersey, I have to get up at the butt-crack of dawn in order to get to rehearsal on time.

I've done this commute so many times I have it down to a science: if the rehearsal is in the morning, I take the train, because an express train from Trenton can go much faster than a car sitting in traffic on the NJ Turnpike. However, if I have to leave the city late at night, I drive in, because the trains only run once an hour after 10 PM, so I actually get home faster in the car.

So far, this method has served me fairly well, except for the few days like today, when the trains aren't running. As soon as I got to the train station platform, they announced that there was a power problem and "no trains were running at this time." The announcer also said that they had no estimate for when the problem would be fixed. I waited around for about five minutes and decided to take my chances on the road.

I got back in the car and headed out onto the Turnpike. Wouldn't you know it, a tractor-trailer overturned in one of the truck lanes, slowing down traffic for a good ten miles at least. On top of that, there was a 45 minute delay getting through the Lincoln Tunnel (par for the course on most morning commutes), and although I left a good hour earlier than I might have, I got to rehearsal with extremely high blood pressure and ten minutes to spare.

All in all, it's a good thing I ended up driving, since the radio traffic reports first reported the power outage (Amtrak's fault, by the way) as delaying the trains 30-40 minutes, then 60 minutes, then suspended altogether.

You know, when I first moved to NJ, I thought it was odd how native New Jerseyans seemed to be able to talk about traffic and driving routes the way most people talk about the weather. Now I think I may be turning into one of those people.

Gypsies tried to fix my car

The other day, I was relaxing at home, having gotten home from a lively rehearsal, and I was catching up on the latest episode of Project Runway (which I TiVoed because I'm too gorram busy to actually watch any of the shows I like at their scheduled time), when I heard a knock on the door.

I live in the middle of suburbia, so if someone unexpectedly knocks on my door, most likely they're either doing a dog census for the township or they're Jehovah's Witnesses. Or both. Girding myself for the ensuing battle with one of God's discreet (or is that discrete?) slaves, I opened the door to find, to my surprise, a rather shady-looking man who looked like he just stepped off the set of The Sopranos. Not exactly the JW sort at all.

This guy was a short, bald, Italian with stubble on his chin and a pock-marked face. He wore a leather jacket and sported a small rhinestone cross in one ear. He was looking up at the roof on my garage, as if he wasn't exactly expecting me to answer the door at all. "Can I help you?" I asked.

"Hi. I was just wondering, do you know whose little blue car that is over there?" he asked, pointing to my car.

"It's mine. Why, do I need to move it for something?"

"No, no, it's just I noticed that you have a little dent in your fender and on the hood, ma'am."

Yes, I have a little ding on the front of my car. It's no big deal...actually, it's Ray's fault. He backed into my car with a utility van when he was trying to move one of his pinball games into the house. He promised to fix it, but when we found out it would cost $400, we both agreed it was a waste of money to fix something like that. It's purely a vanity fix.

But it still bothers me when people mention it, kind of like saying to someone, "Do you know you have a zit on your face?" as if that person hasn't spent an hour in front of the mirror agonizing over it. Let it alone, people. Tell me I have spinach between my teeth, but don't tell me I have an obvious dent on my fender or a zit on my face.

Gritting my teeth, I said, "Yes, I know I have a little ding there." He went on to tell me that he does auto bodywork, and he'd be happy to fix that right up for me. Using blatant used car salesman-like techniques, he managed to get me out of the house and onto the street to show me what he can do. He introduced himself (his name is Bobby) and explained that he knew all about European metalworking, and that he would do this job for much less than had been estimated for me before. In fact, he correctly guessed that we had been quoted $400, which was what got me out there in the first place. He on the other hand, offered to do it for $145.

While he was talking, I was making it perfectly clear through body language that I wasn't really interested in giving him money. I also looked around to make sure I wasn't alone with the slightly creepy "European metalworker." Across the street, there seemed to be a family reunion with at least four adults and a few children outside. Good. However, parked behind my car was a black Lincoln Towncar. How cliché. But hey, at least I knew they couldn't whack me in front of all these witnesses.

I must have been staring at the car a little too long, because the driver of the car stuck his hand out the window and waved at me. I turned back to Bobby and told him for the second or third time that I wasn't interested. He dropped his price to $125.

I said, "Look, all this is making me really uncomfortable. Why are you coming at me with this offer in this strange manner? I didn't ask for any help, and I didn't come looking for you. How did you even find me anyway? Were you just trolling the neighborhood looking for dented cars? What is going on?" I looked at the Towncar again. "Are you in any trouble?" I asked.

"No, no, nothing like that," he said, brushing away my questions. "My brother and I were in the neighborhood doing a job, and we just happened to see your car." I swallowed. A job? What kind of job? Am I going to open the paper tomorrow morning and see my neighborhood on the front page?

He went on to say, "Our mother just passed away a couple weeks ago, and we really need the money. I'll do it for $90."

This guy obviously had very poor negotiating tactics. At this point, I just got fed up. As nicely as I could, I said, "I'm very sorry about your mother, and I appreciate that you're trying to get some work, but this is all highly irregular, and I'm really uncomfortable with this entire situation. I hope you realize that the way you're going about selling your talents makes it sound like a con." He immediately started to shake his head and tried to tell me all about his guarantee and that's why he's willing to do a free sample for me, but I went on to say, "Maybe it is and maybe it isn't, but I just am not willing to enter into a business transaction of this nature."

Seeing that he was about to start again with more sales tactics, I decided to use the Ray card. "Besides," I said, "call me old-fashioned, but I don't like to make any financial decisions without my fiancé here, and he won't be home for at least two or three hours." That seemed to shut him down. I thanked him and went back into the house.

And then I bolted the door.

The next day I told my dad about the incident, and his reaction was, "Oh yeah. Those are gypsies, of course." Of course? How am I supposed to know that? Until now, I thought gypsies traveled in wooden wagons, sold handmade trinkets, and gave souls to vampires. Apparently those days are over, and they now travel in Lincoln Towncars, sell auto body services, and...well maybe they still give souls to vampires. I'm not sure on that one.

But apparently, if you're firm enough with them, they do go away and don't bother you anymore.