WRITERS' STRIKE DAY 23
NOTES FROM THE PICKET LINE:

Arguments continue about whether we should be chanting, what our chant should be, and if we write a chant, whether that breaks the strike rules. We ended up deciding to send a team out to buy a magnetic poetry set. We will randomly draw five words from the box and those words will make up our chant.

Photos by Alaina

It's time to revisit my fabulous trip to New York City, New York State. Click on the links on this page somewhere to read Parts 1-3 of my live blog from New York.

PHOTOS

This is the Bamn! Automat. The windows are filled with (mostly fried) food items by this woman who is condemned to work there during all hours of the night. The color scheme was lifted from the Barbie aisle at Toys R Us.

A view of our room at the hostel. Based on my New York experience, I would definitely be willing to stay at a hostel again. The staff was friendly, the rooms and bathrooms were clean, and the random shouting in foreign languages was minimal. I only saw one bug. And it was a tiny one.

There are so many things wrong with this.

1: Who calls their tutoring service "Kumon"? "COME ON, KID! WHY CAN'T YOU READ? WHAT ARE YOU, STUPID!?!?!? LET'S GO KID! COME ON!"

2: Why does that cartoon face have such a bored expression? Apparently nothing says "let's learn" like stoicism.

3. MATH. READING. SUCCESS. How can I trust these people to bring my child to a fourth-grade reading level when their motto is written in caveman speak?

Here we see the glorious cupcakes from Magnolia bakery. Lord, those were some delicious angel turds.

Lookie, it's me enjoying an audio tour at the Guggenheim. Audio tours are fantastic because if the tour guide starts to ramble on about nonsense, you can simply hit the "stop" button to get them to shut up -- unlike in real life where you just have to stand there and pretend that you aren't bored out of your mind.

Ummmmm....

PROVOCATIVE CONVERSATIONS ABOUT RACE AND SOCIOECONOMIC STATUS

If you walk around New York with your ears open, you are bound to hear some fairly interesting conversations that have been going on for about a century.

Overheard at an intersection...

One black man is trying to hail a cab. Another is trying to help him out. They turn their attention away from the street for about ten seconds, during which a cab pulls over and an older white lady hops into it.

Their conversation continues as we cross the street.

Overheard at McDonald's...

A black man is standing in front of McDonald's and acting as a doorman. On our way in, he says, "Enjoy your meal, and I'd appreciate a little help on the way out." So while I'm inside eating my Chicken McNuggets, all I can think about is how awkward it's going to be when we're leaving McDonald's.

WHITE GUY: Why don't you get a job?

SONG ABOUT THE NEW YORK CITY SUBWAY SYSTEM

As the doors on the subway close, a nice little "ding dong" sound plays over the speakers. This mini-melody inspired me to write a song about the subway, which can be found below. Print it out and sing it with your friends on the subway!

The Subway Song

Ding dong
Takin' the number 2 to 116th street
Exiting at Malcolm X Boulevard
Probably not the right stop
Gotta walk around this shady park
So we don't get shanked
'cause we made a mistake
On the
Sub-way.

NEXT WEEK, TRAVIS' TRAVELS GOES TO FLORIDA! Sorry, my Late Night Penn State sequel blog is just gonna have to wait...

QUESTION: What do I have in common with the writers of The Daily Show?

ANSWER: Neither of us are writing for The Daily Show.

HEYOH

This update will describe events from both Sunday and Monday.

SUNDAY

Magnolia Bakery

We began the day by going to Magnolia and mackin' on some cupcakes.

Much has been written about the cupcakes at Magnolia. Are they really the best cupcakes in the history of the universe?

Answer: Yes. Yes they are.

Let me try to describe to you how great these cupcakes were. Pretend that there was an angel that could only crap cupcakes. That's how great they were.

Guggenheim

The building was designed by Frank Lloyd Wright, who also designed Fallingwater. The style of the building is a giant, 6-floor high spiral. I imagine it must be great fun when the floors get wet.

Other interesting features of the Guggenheim:

1. Unisex bathroom on every floor. [Bathroom... singular. As in, one toilet, one sink. Like at a gas station.]


2. Picasso paintings including LOBSTER V. CAT


3. Naked picture of prepubescent Brooke Shields.

Asscat

Maybe you've heard of the Upright Citizens Brigade theater. It's this collection of really funny people, and they do sketches and improv shows every night for cheap. The cool part is that a lot of those involved are Saturday Night Live or Conan cast members or writers, or other people from other cool things that you've probably seen at some point.

Asscat is an improv show they do every Sunday. The 9:30 show is, for some reason, FREE... all you have to do is line up before 7 p.m. to get tickets. (Around 8:15 they let you go get dinner or whatever and tell you to come back at 9:15.)

The theater itself looks like someone decided to set up a stage in their parents' basement with seats they found on the sidewalk ... but it was comfortable and it worked.

The cast for our performance of Asscat included ...

Amy Poehler, Rachel Dratch, Seth Myers, Jack McBrayer (the assistant on "30 Rock"), plus other people who I probably should have remembered because they were all funny, but I didn't, so whatever

and surprise special guest:

John Krazinski... aka JIM FROM THE OFFICE!!!! OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG HE IS A DREAMBOAT.

What's really neat about the improv style at Asscat is that it's not "Who's Line" stuff. Basically, the audience would shout out a word, then Krazinski would improvise a monologue about that word, and then the Upright Citizens Brigade would improvise comedy scenes based off the monologue. It was completely hilarious throughout and well worth the $0 we paid to see it.

QUESTION: DOES IMPROV VIOLATE THE WRITERS' STRIKE?

ANSWER: YES IT DOES. SHHH, DON'T TELL ANYONE.

MONDAY

Pie By the Pound

This is a pizza place where they have really long pizzas and they ask you "how much would you like?" And then you say "more, more, less" and then they cut it and toss it in the oven. I got a slice of salad pizza and a slice of breakfast pizza (egg and bacon). It was tasty.

Times Square

This is where it's all happening. (And by "it's all," I mean "BIG FLASHY ADS THAT WILL MAKE YOU WANT TO THROW UP IF YOU STARE AT THEM TOO LONG.")

Did you know that Times Square has ...

1. KNOCKOFF iPODS?
   
   
   
   1. Overheard in knockoff iPod store...
      CUSTOMER: "Is that an iPod?"
      EASTERN EUROPEAN CLERK: "That eez not iPod. Eez other meedia."
      
   
   
   
   
2. A store that only sells M&Ms?
   
3. AN OLIVE GARDEN!?!?

Seriously. It's totally worth going. Can't find this stuff anywhere else in the world.

Italian Restaurant

OK, so forget about the restaurant and let's focus on this awesome conversation happening one table away from us.

There was this man and woman at the table next to us, and it seemed like they were on their first date. And the guy was talking her ear off. And it was hilarious. Conversation excerpts:

"The day people stop buying GM stock is the day dogs and cats roam the streets. End of the world. Mad Max stuff."

"The problem with you is that you still want to save people. You have to stop worrying about other people. That's a mistake young people make."

"Are you using incandescent lighting or fluorescent lighting? You could be saving a s**tload on your electric bills. I'm paying now what I was paying seven years ago."

Well that's pretty much it from New York. Thanks for reading my live blogs this week and have a nice break, everyone.

Look for a wrap-up blog with photos next Thursday.

First, a correction - it was called "Bamn," like "damn" with a "b," NOT "Blam," like "flan" with a "b."

Here's the rundown from Saturday:

Forbes Gallery

First, the search for breakfast -- we stumbled upon a bagel shop that looked decent. It was about noon, and I ordered a bagel sandwich with egg. The guy behind the counter shook his head disapprovingly and said there are no breakfast bagels at this time. I thought it would have been nice if they had put that on the sign, but like so many things in New York, it seems as if you just have to know.

The gallery itself was pretty sweet. There was this sculpture that involved marbles running down a track and hitting bells and things; more than 10,000 toy soldiers (many of which had politically incorrect depictions of American Indians and various foreign armies); toy boats and an entire gallery of Olympic medals. Turns out that the medals from Torino, with the big hole in the middle, look just as stupid up-close as they did on TV.

5th Avenue

This street is known for having super-expensive stores, and at one time was the shopping capital of the United States. I say "at one time" because, from walking down the street, it seemed that the vast majority of the goods offered were available either in malls across the United States or online.

So really, the only point in going is to say you've been there, and being there is pretty cool. We went to Tiffany's, where very expensive things are sold, and saw various couples negotiating wedding or engagement ring purchases. You could tell it was a big money transaction because the couples had glasses of ice water in front of them and beads of sweat were rolling down foreheads. It was a good time.

Subway Observations

• People like to try to sell things to you on the subway (candy, mostly). They usually do this by stepping into the car and loudly saying, "Pardon the interruption, but..." Fortunately, because no one looks at anyone else on the subway, I didn't feel bad at all for completely ignoring them.
• I ran into my first "I'm a New Yorker, I'm Pissed and I'm Going to Let Everyone Know About It" moment. Some woman with her kids was trying to get off the subway, and the angry New York lady pushed her way through to board:

  WOMAN WITH KIDS: Oh my God!

  NEW YORK WOMAN: Well maybe you should get out of the way so people can board the train!

  WOMAN WITH KIDS: [distressed grunt] New York.

  [Subway doors close.]

  NEW YORK WOMAN: Jesus Christ.



• The subway is kinda hard to figure out, as we discovered yesterday. We were looking for the Columbia University stop on 116th street, so we took the 2 train. We thought we were on the right track until we emerged from the station and saw that the street was "Malcolm X Boulevard" and figured we had ended up in the wrong place.

  Turns out there are two 116th street stops and two different ways that the 2 train can take, and we had taken the wrong one. We asked this very nice girl for directions and she told us that if we kept walking on 116th we would eventually get to Columbia. However, there was this big park in the way and it was kind of dark out and she told us that we should probably walk around the park because it can be dangerous at night.

  So basically we had to walk 20 blocks out of our way to get to this park and finally reach Columbia.

Columbia University

Did you know that Columbia University is where the Pulitzer prizes are handed out? I imagine a big closet chock-full o' Pulitzers just waiting to be engraved. I imagine myself breaking into said closet, stealing said Pulitzers and engraving things such as "YOU IS A STINKY HEAD" onto them. And then I'd write a story about it and the story would win the Pulitzer but they wouldn't have one to give to me because I would have just vandalized them all.

Bar

I forgot the name of the bar we went to, but it was some punk-rock-themed joint. The weird thing about it was that the punk-rock theme seemed to have been carefully applied -- posters were hung on the walls and bathrooms in a calculated haphazard manner and a little too much thought seemed to have been put into the graffiti.

All right folks, more to come tomorrow. Keep it real; enjoy your weekends.

Hey everyone. It's time for another live blog, this time, from THE BIGGEST AND BESTEST CITY IN THE WORLD, New York City, New York.

Driving In

The way to New York was fun. I have a very small car and there were a lot of very big trucks trying to get into the city. Needless to say, we almost died at several points. It was fun.

The NYC Subway System

New York has gone out of its way to make its subway system as confusing and incomprehensible as possible for visitors. I understand the reason (the subways can get super crowded) but really, trying to figure out these maps is like trying to solve a Rubik's Cube sometimes. Luckily, we got unlimited 7-day passes so we can make as many mistakes as we want.

Youth Hostel

We're staying at a youth hostel with a bunch of international people. What I wasn't expecting is that there seems to be a good deal of people who just straight-up live here. At about $600 a month, I guess that isn't too bad for New York City. We're in a pretty good location, just minutes away from Central Park.

The Museum of Modern Art (MOMA)

Here's a story for you: The other day in State College, I was at Subway. And you know how they call the people who work there "sandwich artists"? Well, if Subway employees are artists, mine was Jackson Pollock. Buffalo sauce, chicken, cheese, lettuce, bread -- it was all over the freakin' place. So it way nice to actually get to see some actual Jackson Pollock paintings.

JACKSON POLLOCK FUN FACT

Jackson Pollock once threw some paint at a canvas in a haphazard way, and now he has his own room in the Museum of Modern Art in New York City.

Sing Sing Karaoke bar

The best part of going to a Karaoke bar is the crowd's reactions to certain song choices. The Killers seemed to get the best reaction, whereas Broadway showtunes were only begrudgingly sung along to.

BLAM Automat

At least that's what I think the place was called; I was pretty tired when we went there.

There was this cool fast food place where you put your money in a change machine, got dollar coins, and then fed those coins into vending machines that had corndogs, fajitas, chicken fingers, etc. It was great because no human interaction was involved in the process, which is something I admire from any business.

YET ANOTHER NOTE: ONCE AGAIN, BECAUSE THE WRITERS GUILD OF AMERICA IS ON STRIKE, THIS BLOG HAS BEEN TAKEN OVER BY NON-UNION SCABS. THIS WEEK'S BLOG WAS WRITTEN BY A 97-YEAR-OLD AFGHAN WOMAN.

P.S. "24" writers, here's my idea for the next season: Terrorists are attacking Los Angeles. Jack Bauer is the only one who can take them down. He's going to do it within 24 hours. GO!

ATTENTION BOYS AND GIRLS!

Is your idea of a fun weekend drinking a bottle of Goldschlager and trying to activate automatic doors by throwing balled-up socks in front of the sensors? IF SO, then Late Night Penn State IS NOT for you.

Is your idea of a fun weekend sitting at a table in the HUB and playing an enthralling, no-holds-barred game of BINGO -- while totally sober? IF SO, then Late Night Penn State IS for you!

Because I meet the latter criteria, I decided to go to Late Night Penn State for my travel this week.

Before I set out, however, I wondered whether there would be anything to make fun of at Late Night. I mean, Dean's Diner is chock-full o' hilarity, but Late Night Penn State? What is there to mock about balloon artists or a Casino Night where one of the top prizes is a Brita pitcher?

So I figured that rather than try to be humorous, I would document my night in a strictly non-jokey way -- while comparing it to the night of a fictional student who I call JOE STUDENT, but who everyone else calls "STUDENT X."

MY NIGHT: 10 p.m.

Bingo is about to start. Hundreds of students line up at the table to get their two free cards and a little cup full of popcorn seeds to use as markers.

JOE "STUDENT X" STUDENT'S NIGHT: 10 p.m.

Already totally buzzed from pregaming. Omigod man, we totally need to go to Players, I hear there are gonna be some awesome chicks there with whom we could dance in provocative ways.

MY NIGHT: 10:10 p.m.

The first Bingo game has begun. The caller, who has been calling bingo for more than three years, announces the number "O-69." Everyone goes "OOoooOOOOoooH!"

JOE "STUDENT X" STUDENT'S NIGHT: 10:10 p.m.

Waiting in line at Players. Pretending not to be nervous about approaching gigantic bouncer. He could crush my skull with his mind.

I do not know these people

MY NIGHT: 11:00 p.m.

Half the Bingo games have been called and I still haven't won. Alaina already won a copy of "Knocked Up." I think it's rigged.

JOE "STUDENT X" STUDENT'S NIGHT: 11:00 p.m.

Just did seven shots of liquid cocaine, now dancing with this superfly chick at Players. I am going to ask this girl if I can kiss her. She rejects me by yelling "PEACE!" and giving me a sideways V sign with her fingers before walking away. That's okay, there are plenty of other fish in the sea!

MY NIGHT: midnight

Bingo is finally over. I walk upstairs and pass by a balloon artist. He is making humorous sculptures out of balloons.

JOE "STUDENT X" STUDENT'S NIGHT: midnight

Just followed some random girl into her apartment. Aw man, I am SO. DRUNK. Hey, check out the selection of literature she has on this bookshelf. Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand!? SCORE!!!

MY NIGHT: 12:30 a.m.

Just lost a few hundred dollars in fake money while playing Blackjack. My strategy is as follows:

"Hit me... hit me... hit me..."

"That's 30. You're over."

"WHY DIDN'T I STAY AT 20!?"

JOE "STUDENT X" STUDENT'S NIGHT: 12:30 a.m.

"Centuries ago, the man who was--no matter what his errors--the greatest of your philosophers, has stated the formula defining the concept of existence and the rule of all knowledge: A is A. A thing is itself. You have never grasped the meaning of his statement. I am here to complete it: Existence is Identity, Consciousness is Identification."

MY NIGHT: 1 a.m.

Driving home, satisfied with my evening of safe, non-alcoholic fun.

JOE "STUDENT X" STUDENT'S NIGHT: 1 a.m.

Throwing up in toilet.

NOTE: BECAUSE OF THE WRITERS GUILD OF AMERICA STRIKE, THIS BLOG WILL NOW BE TAKEN OVER BY NON-UNION SCABS. THIS WEEK'S BLOG WAS WRITTEN BY A 14-YEAR-OLD SCANDINAVIAN BOY.

P.S. Battlestar Galactica writers - If you need someone to take over while you're gone, I'm willing to do it. Did someone say Cylon dance party on New Caprica? [Nerd alert!]

My girlfriend and I drove to Ebensburg Saturday morning, not because I have any particular affinity for the town (other than its courthouse, which is totally awesome), but because it's about halfway between Pittsburgh and State College. And the reason this is important is because my dad wanted to meet for lunch, because in a few days the farm he lived at, the farm that I've grown up with for 21 years of my life, was going to be sold - and he wanted to see me one last time before the closing went through and he moved away.

I didn't really like growing up on the farm. I didn't like that it was in the middle of nowhere. I didn't like animals, so the horses my parents boarded didn't interest me. I think I can also attribute at least some of my social awkwardness to the fact that there weren't any other kids to play with for at least a couple of acres in every direction.

When I was in fourth grade and my parents moved us to a suburb of Pittsburgh, I didn't really miss the farm like my sister did. And when my parents got divorced and started up their joint custody arrangement, while I loved being able to spend more time with my dad on the weekends, I wasn't particularly thrilled with the prospect of returning to the farm.

My dad got remarried and he and my stepmom renovated the place quite a bit - it looks better than ever now. Still, for those of you who haven't lived on a farm, it's a crapload of work to keep the thing from falling apart. And back when they told my sister and me that they were selling it and moving to a home that would require a lot less upkeep (and be in 80 degree weather most of the year), I figured it was a good move.

Ebensburg is tiny. We were able to take a walking tour of pretty much the entire downtown metropolitan area in a matter of minutes. Some of the buildings, including the parenthetically aforementioned courthouse, are beautiful. There's a lovely gazebo near the center of town. It was almost Twilight Zone-esque in its seemingly innocuous charm, as if Rod Serling were waiting to jump out from behind a corner and tell us that half the townspeople were secretly alien communists or something.

When my dad showed up we walked around for a little bit and talked about this and that. I immediately realized that there was a different tone about this get together than there was to any other time I met with my dad: for some reason, I had trouble looking at him - and unlike other times, when I find myself talking forever about everything, I kept mostly quiet.

We finally decided to drive to a family restaurant where we had eaten one time before - I remember I liked it and figured it would be nice to give it another shot. I ordered chicken parmesan; my dad ordered meatloaf. And as he sat and talked to my girlfriend about law school, I just stared at the advertisements on my paper placemat and thought about the farm:

• I thought about the day my sister stepped on a rusty nail outside the kitchen door. The thing went straight through her plastic sandal and into her foot. I remember us frantically trying to remember when or if she recently had a tetanus shot.
• I thought about the time I decided to take up rock collecting. I filled up an entire bucket with little rocks I found outside. After that, I didn't know what to do with my collection -- I wasn't cool enough to have a rock tumbler -- so I somehow figured the best way to dispose of the rocks would be to dump them down the bathroom sink. Before I did this, I ran the idea past my mom, whose answer was a strong "NO." So naturally, I dumped the rocks down the sink anyway. I still don't know how (or if) they managed to get them out of the pipes.
• I thought about mowing the grass on the riding mower. My allergies would flare up as I cut wavy paths behind me and sprayed cut grass all over the place. Eventually I was told I couldn't cut the lawn anymore because I couldn't drive in straight lines.
• I thought about mornings when the front yard would be covered with hundreds of turkeys. It was like the end of Hitchcock's The Birds, except scarier, because turkeys are some of the ugliest creatures on the planet.
• I thought about hearing periodic gunshots coming from the yard of our neighbors, who were into target practice; and about stapling "no trespassing" signs to trees with my dad and my sister in the days before hunting season. Throughout my time at the farm I was convinced that I would eventually get hit by a stray bullet and die.
• I thought about discovering where my mom hid the Christmas presents in the guest bedroom. And when I figured out there was no Santa Claus, and I told my sister, who was just as not surprised as I was.



• I thought about a talking dollhouse my sister and I played with in the living room. We would always have the nuclear family who inhabited it experience some horrifying natural disaster - a tornado would rip off their roof and send them flying or an earthquake would destroy their home and send them falling into the earth's molten core.

I thought about all these things and more - memories that are still flowing through my mind - as I sat there and ate my chicken parmesan (which turned out not to be particularly good).

My mom just sold her house. My dad just sold his. My sister and I can't go home anymore, at least insofar as "home" is "the place where we grew up."

My dad and I parted ways. My dad drove in one direction, I drove in another.

We stopped at a gas station, and as I sat there in my car, I couldn't hold it in any more. I cried. I cried like the farm was a person who died, a person who was there for me all my life, a person who took care of me and molded me in ways I never realized, a person I never really appreciated until she was gone. (Or he. The farm could have been a dude.)

Basically, I was a huge wimp about the whole thing.

But I've had some time to get over it, and now I'm looking to the future. I'm going to be out of Penn State at the end of the semester, which means saying goodbye to friends and the Collegian and everything else I've grown attached to over the past three years.

I don't know where I'll end up next. But wherever that is, I hope that when I leave I'm just as sad as I was this weekend and just as sad as I'll be in a few weeks when I leave Penn State.

Because while moving on sucks, in the end, it's a good kind of suck.