Deliberation and Verdict

I found a man guilty, and it feels really strange. His life will be different moving forward based on this decision. Whether fortunately or not, we didn't come to a unanimous decision quickly as the case was not black and white. The decision hindered on whether his guilt was proven beyond a reasonable doubt. That word, reasonable, makes a world of difference. Much of our deliberation centered around whether or not something was possible. If it it's possible, then is it probable. If it's probable, is it reasonable. Then, is it unreasonable to come to a different conclusion.

At the beginning of deliberation today, I believed the defendant to be guilty beyond a reasonable doubt of all charges. At the end of the day, I still found him guilty, but it still felt weird. Ultimately, the defendant was found guilty of the following charges (fyi - the controlled substance here is crack cocaine and my description of the charge is in parentheses):

• Count 1 - Criminal sale of a controlled substance in the third degree (sale of crack)
• Count 2 - Criminal possession of a controlled substance in the third degree (possession of crack with intent to sell)
• Count 3 - Criminal possession of a controlled substance in the fifth degree (possession of over 500 mg of crack)
• Count 4 - Criminal possession of a controlled substance in the seventh degree (possession of crack)

When the foreman read the guilty verdict to count 1, the assistant district attorney let out a visible breath as if she had been holding her breath from the time we walked into the courtroom. It's possible that she had been. The defendant put his head in his hands and said, "Oh, shit." He became more visibly upset as each guilty verdict was read. After the verdict was read, we were each polled as to whether or not we believed the defendant guilty. I have no idea what would have happened if one juror suddenly said not guilty, but I am glad than an uncomfortable situation did not become more so.

One of the points the defense attorney made from the first day was that he and the defendant could have sat in the court room and taken a nap. They did not have to prove innocence as the defendant is not guilty until proven otherwise. After we were finished deliberating, I asked the other jurors what their decisions would have been had the defense not brought forth any witnesses. Unanimously, we agreed that we would have found the defendant guilty. (I realize that we were supposed to hear all pieces of the testimony before thinking about guilt or innocence, but do you know how hard that is to do?) The defense witnesses painted a different picture of the events (as they should have) but ultimately their witnesses weren't credible. Their testimonies not only contradicted each other, but also contradicted themselves. The prosecution's case wasn't without fault and contradiction, but ultimately it was strong enough to prove guilt beyond a reasonable doubt.

I am glad that I was selected for this experience, but I am extremely glad I won't have to do it again any time soon. 

I didn't have a chance to update my observations earlier this week partially because one of the best things happened this past Monday and it was actually a piece of the case (not just an observation in general). For my last entry on jury duty (for the next few years), here are my observations from the last few days:

• A defense witness (not the defendant) testified that he was carrying a python at the time he was arrested. A python! He said it was in a bag in his pocket. In case you're wondering, the police never testified about the presence of a python when the man was arrested. I realize it may be irrelevant, but why didn't the ADA ask what the python's name was?
• The same defense witness has no idea how old he is. Direct examination: How old are you? 42. 42? Wait, 43. Cross examination: On direct, you said you were 42 or 43. Yes. But, weren't you born in 1963? Oh yeah. That makes him 47! If I'm testifying under oath, you better believe I'm not going to forget about five years. (Let's be clear - I sometimes forget how old I am. I have the strange habit, unfortunately, of aging myself a year. I'm sure that I won't forget when I turn 29 and will continue to turn 29 every year thereafter unless asked on a witness stand.) 
• On Monday, a juror's cell phone rang in the courtroom. Oops. He happened to be sitting behind me so all eyes came in my direction. On Tuesday, he kept rocking in his squeaky chair (that ree rer ree rer ree rer sound). I turned and gave him the movie theater death eye (Stop that or I will get out of this seat and make you stop making noise!).
• One of the audience members had the most fantastic fur coats I've ever seen on a man. It was full length, dark gray, with lighter gray trim around the collar. It looked a bit like this.
• The court reporter is amazing. There's no other word for it. She typed every single word and intonation made during every second of the trial. And, it was all typed in another language! We had testimony read back to us during our deliberation and she had ums and yeahs and mmhmms. I watched her for long periods of time during the trial.
• The state will buy jurors lunch during deliberations. However, the state will not tip the delivery guy. The court officer came in with an envelope after he took our orders asking us to provide a tip for the delivery guy.
• The fire alarm went off during lunch. We weren't told anything. When we buzzed the courtroom to find out if we should evacuate, an officer came in (his top two shirt buttons unbuttoned and his clip on tie hanging from one side of his collar) and told us it was just a drill. Fire trucks came. We sat.
• John, the GTL court officer, had been with us every day until today. His replacement easily could have been Deputy Dewey.

Trial Day 3

And on the third day, the People (a.k.a. the prosecution) rested. And so did I. Because we got to leave early. Hooray!

• The officer keeps gnawing on his hangnails. It's disgusting. (It doesn't help that I've self-diagnosed myself with late-onset ADHD.)
• The assistant DA literally has a script for when she's questioning a witness including when to pause. How do I know this, because I'm observant. I'm sure she goes off script, but there are spots where she instructs herself to "WAIT." 
• There's a team of people working on the "people's" case despite the fact that only one person is trying the case. The ADA sometimes confers with people in the gallery which is kind of interesting to watch. I think the defense attorney is a lone wolf.
• The defense attorney has a typo on his website. (I swear I did not research anything about the case. I was just curious as to who the attorneys were.)
• I should have majored in Forensic Science solely so I can have the job title of criminalist. Maybe if CSI had been on TV when I was in high school, I would have paid more attention in Chemistry.
• Something tells me that I probably won't ever be called as an "expert" witness in a trial ever. I may be a master of the South, but I don't claim to be an expert. (Then again, I've had as much training in all things southern as the expert criminalists had in forensic science.)
• I think my last name figured into my jury selection.
• I want to know how many people who go to law school have sat through a trial, beginning to end, that was not tried by Jack McCoy before their first day of class.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Trial Day 2

Observations from trial day 2:

• The court officer definitely gets his GTL on.
• I almost gagged watching the officer sitting by the defendant while he was gnawing on his hangnails for a good 15 minutes.
• New York accents can be a bit distracting.
• I feel as though I should clap every time a witness is excused from the stand.
• Apparently, random people can come into the court room and disturb court proceedings. As in, a guy came in, said hi to the judge, shook his hand, hugged one of the court officers, and left. No one saw anything wrong with this.
• The defense attorney's cell phone rang during the first witness' testimony.
• I'm a little concerned with some of the other jurors. A group of us went to lunch at a cuban restaurant across the street from the court house. Two of my fellow jurors had difficulty figuring out what to eat because "the menu's not in English." To be clear, the descriptions of all the food were in English. The titles were in Spanish. One was concerned because none of the prices were on the menu until I pointed out that the numbers on the menu were not the numbers of the food orders (you know, like I'd like the A7, please), but rather the prices of the food. Oh, I wondered why there were three 14s.
• Listening to undercover officers give testimony makes me feel special, and we all know I like to feel special.

Trial Day 1

No one told me how exhausting jury duty would be. Oof. I know I usually work for more than 8 hours a day, but sitting in a court room, listening for hours on end, is much more difficult than you would think.

A few observations of the day (not too detailed for fear that someone finds out somehow):

• Older gentleman wearing a suit, his cuffs were monogrammed and he used a cane. Had he worn a seersucker suit, I would have swooned. I wanted to call him Mr. instead of by his first name.
• Host/doorman for a restaurant in Midtown where I've had brunch. (No, I did not recognize him. Yes, I found out about almost everyone when I forced them to talk while we were waiting.)
• Woman who was excused from the jury because she's ridiculous. Sure, she thought her concern was valid. Yes, she ended up excused from the case. In short, she feared she'd be the subject of a TV movie if she stayed on the jury (my conclusion, not hers).
• Lining up in numerical order is apparently not as easy as it seems. You'd be surprised the number of people who will follow along lining up the wrong way. It felt as though we were in kindergarten. (One guess who asked the court officer a clarifying question because she thought something wasn't right.)
• Some people can't tell time or would have a serious Org flag if I were to review them. We had lunch until 2:15 - it's not hard to be back by then.
• The judge can't say my last name.
• The defense attorney is doing his best to make me not like him. I can't guarantee that's his M.O., if you will, but I do question it.
• The assistant district attorney doesn't have my full confidence yet either.

Things I learned today during jury selection . . .

Things I learned today during jury selection . . .

• At the beginning of the day, there's a video reenactment of a trial back in the day. Way back in the day. It was a trial by water. You know, where they tie up people accused of being a witch and throw them in a river. If the person floats, she's a witch. If she sinks, she not. This video is supposed to show how far our judicial system has come.
• I should have avoided eye contact with the "People" and the defense attorney.
• I should have said I think drug dealers are bad.
• I should have said my purse was stolen out of my friend's car my first year out of college. Maybe, I should have cried about it too.
• I should have said I'm too indispensable at work to sit on a jury at the moment. (I don't want to be vain, but it's true.)
• I should have said I grew up in South Carolina instead of born in Ohio. Or perhaps that I moved to NYC from Mississippi.
• I should have said that the defense attorney was an idiot when he compared basing a conviction on only part of the law to calling a burger minus the pickles and special sauce a Big Mac. (Yeah, that happened.)
• I should have asked my friends who are lawyers what to say to convincingly and legally be excused from selection. Although I only know one lawyer in NYC (I'm not sure how that's possible either), I know lots of them in other places.
• I should have said I must acquit if the glove don't fit.
• I should have said Kew Gardens is way too far away and that I didn't see any gardens.
• I should have said I needed the music from Law & Order to believe it was a real case.

Alas, I am juror #4 at the worst possible time for work. We're interviewing a few people in a couple of weeks, and I have a lot to do. I know it's my civic duty, and I know I'd probably want me on a jury. I'd just rather have me on a jury at a more convenient time. I just wish that the trial wasn't expected to last over a week. Oof.

Best. Idea. Ever.

I've been debating whether or not I should join a gym recently. There's not really a question of whether or not it would be good for me. The issue, as with most things, comes down to money. Yes, I know I should make exercise a priority, but . . . I don't have a good excuse.

I can't get a discount at NYSC through my office, but it's not much of a discount. I really want to take pilates again, but I can only find cheap yoga classes instead of cheap pilates.

This past weekend, however, I stumbled upon a superb idea. Ice skating! Sure, I may literally stumble at first, but it's the perfect solution.

Here's the deal. The rink (a.k.a. the Pond) at Bryant Park is open until 10 p.m. every night during the week (and until midnight on the weekends, but really, am I gonna go on the weekends?). In addition to being open late, it's free. That's right, free. There is a fee to rent skates ($13), but if my plan goes as, uh, planned, I'll buy ice skates later this week for about $40. Then it's a free workout. Bryant Park is pretty much on my way home from the office (sort of), so I have no reason not to go.

This idea is brilliant. What kind of SC girl wouldn't want her own ice skates anyway? Ok, the downside of this plan is that the rink is small, and there will be tons of people on the ice. I probably won't ever get up much speed, but how is this not the best plan ever? I'll get to peoplewatch while working out.

This has got to be foolproof. Update tomorrow.

It happened again

It happened again. This is number four. I'm kind of excited to see if it happens again.

Josh winked at me again. You know the Josh I'm talking about.. At least the guy's consistent. He changed his profile name, so maybe he thought it would throw me off. Maybe he thought I'd somehow be tricked into thinking he was someone else. It ain't happening buddy.

Maybe if Josh looked a little more like my dad I'd be more likely to give him another shot. According to a (relatively) recent story in the Daily Mail, women are attracted to men who look like their fathers. One of the examples they use is Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt. Apparently Brad Pitt looks like a young Jon Voight (Angelina's dad). Angelina may just be attracted to insanely attractive men, but I'll concede that her dad does look like Brad in the picture they show. So maybe, if Josh was taller, a little heavier, with middle eastern features, maybe then I'd be willing to try again. Then again, we all know that's not true.

I may be attracted to men that have similar features to my dad, but he has to have wit like him too. And be smart. And have been a blond-haired, blue-eyed Olympic pairs skater back in the 70s. Ok, maybe that last part isn't a requirement, but that's how my parents met according to my dad. (They were a medal winning pair, duh.) He also told me that I had brothers back in the day, but they didn't want to move with my parents. My mom wasn't too happy with that story.

Even when I find the man that's the right one for me, I'll still have my dad. And I know I'll always be able to count on him, not just for the normal things a daughter counts on her dad for, but also for a laugh. 

Like when he's warming himself by the fire in his apartment in Chelsea.

The Unexpected

Sometimes, out of the blue, you see someone completely unexpected and it catches you off guard. Maybe, as a result, you're on guard for the rest of the night. Nothing crazy, just looking around the corner 10 feet in advance.

Then, you might get in a cab on your way home. It's a pleasant evening and a pleasant ride. Your driver says something and you think he's talking to you. Excuse me?
 - Oh, I was on my phone.
Not to worry. A few minutes later, he starts to talk to you. How is your night going? It's good. What kind of things do you like to do? I like pretty much anything as long as I'm with friends. What about you, you ask thinking this scenario is suddenly familiar. I like to hang out with friends and to go out to eat and to grab a drink. And I like to play soccer and work out at the gym around the corner. That's cool. Will you take a left up here on 29th Street? About 1/2 way down. Sure. So, uh, if you're not to busy maybe you'd want to grab a drink sometime.

Ok, I fully admit I should just learn to say no. I also know I'm super judgmental, but I'm probably not going to marry a cab driver. Just not going to happen. Anyways.

Um, maybe. Why don't you give me your number. Do you want me to call you so you have it? (Hell to the no.) Can you write it down? Sure. What's your name by the way? Rashid.


Thanks, Rashid. I now have two cab drivers in my collection.

Thunderstorm

I've tried not to become a "jaded New Yorker" in the time since I've moved to the city. Still, fewer and fewer things really surprise me. There's still numerous things I haven't done or seen, but many of them I've at least heard of. Today, however, I was pleasantly surprised.

I was in Times Square on my way home from work. I've recently started walking to the subway station there instead of Herald Square because, strangely, I run into fewer tourists that way. This afternoon, the sky was black  and the clouds looked as though they would burst at any moment. Thunder began to clap and was immediately followed by lightning. (Did I mention that I love thunderstorms?) I headed down into the subway just as massive raindrops began to fall.

Usually it's ridiculously difficult to hear anything when you're underground. Subways are not the quietest of places by any means. Today, however, as I was waiting for the train I heard a loud clap of thunder. It was amazing to hear thunder while underground. Suddenly, I heard rain falling above my head. Then, mist started to fall through the grates above the tracks from the rain above. Finally, rain started to fall underground. It was one of the craziest, surprising, and most amazing things I've seen yet.

I realize that there's really something wrong when it's raining underground. And, as someone with a fear of dripping water, I really shouldn't be awed by this phenomenom. Still, there was something magical about hearing thunder and seeing rain underground.

Thanks, NYC, for surprising me again.

Couch Surfing

We decided to meet at a bar in the East Village. He suggested two different places; I picked one of them on a whim. Our messages back and forth had been good so far – fun, witty. He’s a first year lawyer at a firm in the city. I definitely did some, how shall I put this, research to make sure he didn’t work at the same firm as FD3. I know there’s a bajillion law firms in the city and even more lawyers, but I didn’t want to have that conversation:

-          Oh, by the way, I’m dating someone in your office.

-          That’s nice. Who is it?

-          His name is blah, blah, blah. You know him?

-          Oh yeah. His office is across from mine.

Then I would worry that they’re talking about me together. Maybe they don’t like each other which would make things even worse a la “What does she see in that guy?” Anyways, I, ahem, researched the guy which is ridiculously hard to do when all you have to go on is a first name and the college he went to. (Thank you Facebook for making it possible.) As expected, they don’t work at the same place. And like I mentioned, messages back and forth were super easy and fun until he had to push back the time we were meeting because of work. (I’m super flexible and easy going when it comes to a lot of things, but I don’t want to go down that road again. It was a crazy exception to the rule when FD3 worked that many hours, but I still got crazy flashbacks.)

I got to the bar first as I usually do. When meeting a new person for the first time, I like to be at the spot first to scope things out and regroup myself. I don’t want to “find” the guy; I’d rather him find me. When he got there, we decided to go upstairs. The downstairs section was really loud, and although upstairs is usually a dance floor (weird), I thought it best to try. Fortunately, there was no dance party that evening. There were a bunch of people though which was kind of nice.

We strolled up to the bar to grab drinks. The bartender said:

-          Hi. Are you [word vomit, word vomit, word vomit].

-          I’m sorry. One more time?

-          Are you with the group in the back?

-          Oh, no. We’re not.

The guy I was standing next to, not my date, interrupted.

-          You should totally join the group or just say you are. You’ll get drink specials.

-          But what’s the group.

-          We’re the couch surfing group. We’re just having an event for members, but you could get a name tag and then you’ll be a part of it.

-          You’re wearing your name on a piece of masking tape.

-          Yeah, I know. They had to go get more nametags. Have you ever couch surfed?

-          No, but I’ve heard of people doing it.

-          It’s really awesome. You should definitely sign up. You get to meet all kinds of people. People do it all over the world.

-          Have you ever surfed?

-          Well, I’ve hosted, but I’ve never surfed.

-          So you’re a couch surfing virgin, but you’re telling us we should do it?

-          Yeah. Hey Jordan, come tell them about couch surfing.

This went on for about 15 minutes. I’d still barely said a sentence to the guy I actually came to the bar with. We got nametags for the hell of it and found as private a spot as we could find away from the couch surfers. Unfortunately, the spot we found had a third chair and shortly after we sat down a lone couch surfer (identified by his nametag) made his way to the empty chair.

-          Don’t make eye contact. Don’t make eye contact.

It’s not that we wanted to be anti-social. We were being social in fact. We just wanted to be social with each other it being a first date and all. We noticed quickly that there was another group besides the couch surfers in the room.

-          It’s kind of like we’re at a swingers party and the couch surfers are trying to rope in the other group.

-          I know. It’s really weird.

-          [The random guy interrupts.] What did you say?

-          Uh, nothing.

-          [Random guy] If you’re wondering if they’re part of the couch surfers, they’re not. They’re an office party.

-          Oh, uh, thanks.

Fortunately, the random guy left. We decided to get another drink. My date, the gentleman that I’m sure he is, offered to brave the crowd of couch surfers to get another round but not before heading to the bathroom first. I promised to save his seat and off he went.

-          Hi. Are you here by yourself too?

I looked up at the woman approaching. She was wearing a couch surfing nametag.

-          Hi. Um, no. My friend went to the bathroom.

-          Oh, mind if I sit?

-          Not at all. She took the open, third chair.

-          I’m Bea. Do you surf much?

-          No. Actually, we stumbled upon this group just tonight.

-          Really? So you haven’t hosted or surfed?

-          Nope. We literally came into the bar and somehow joined the group. It was at this moment that I regretted not taking off my nametag.

-          Oh wow. Well, you should totally do it some time. You meet so many cool people.

-          So I’ve heard. My date walked back towards us with drinks in hand. FD82, this is Bea. Bea, this is FD82.

-          Oh, nice to meet you FD82. I hear you’ve never couch surfed. [Blah, blah, blah. Yada, yada, yada.] Oh my gosh. Is this bottle of tequila yours?

I looked where she was pointing. There was a bottle of tequila in its original boxed packaging sitting on the table in front of us.

-          Uh, no. I hadn’t noticed it before. That’s completely random. I wonder where it came from. [Blah, blah, tequila.]

-          Oh my gosh. Are you two on a date?

-          Uh, maybe.

-          I am so sorry. Why didn’t you say anything?!

-          It’s ok.

And with that, she left. We didn’t have any more visitors to our date that night. Probably because we took off our nametags, but you never know. The rest of the date went well, but I don’t think it could really compete with the couch surfing craziness. We went on a brunch date a few days later, but alas. The saga continues . . .

1979

A week or so ago, I woke to find a new message from a potential suitor.

Hi,

I lived in Lake City, Camden, Columbia, and Lexington. Worked at [Insert Software Company Name here] for 12 1/2 years, until AT&T's hostile take-over.

Just wanted to say hello and wish you the best in the Big City. I am happy to see an intelligent, caring Southerner is doing well there.

Have you noticed that people ask you dozens of questions, all the time?
It is not because they want or need the answers. They just want to keep you talking, because they like to hear us talk.

J

1. He's 63 and lives in Freehold, NJ with his mother. I don't know where Freehold is, but I imagined it was full of creepy old guys. It turns out that Bruce Springsteen is from the neighboring town, and Freehold has it's very own reality show: Jersey Couture.

2. One of his pictures is from 1979 which is before I was born. All of the pictures (including the one from 1979) are of a creepy old guy. He looks like he sells fireworks in some stand by the road except that I don't think they sell fireworks in NJ.

3. SC - The guy used to live in many places in SC. I looked Lake City up on a map, and, you may have guessed this, there's not a lake. Not this guy's fault, but weird none the less. Camden is a cute little town full of horses. While most places get excited about the Kentucky Derby, we get excited about the Carolina Cup and the Colonial Cup which both take place in Camden. Additionally, it should be known that Columbia = capitol and Lexington = redneck.

4. And this the best and perhaps creepiest part of his message. My parents, as in both of them, worked at [Insert Software Company Name here]. Not for a month, not for a year. We moved to SC when I was 4 months old in 1983 for my parents jobs; however, they had been working for [Insert Software Company Name here] since 1977. In 1988 we moved to Orlando for 2 years for my dad's job. We moved back to Columbia two years later for my mom's job which was just in time for AT&T's "hostile take-over." My parents survived the hostile takeover and continued to work there for many more years even once it became [Insert Software Company Name here] again. Neither of them work their any more, but that was a development in the 2000s. Sure, it's very possible that my parents didn't know this guy or work with this guy, but it's also possible that they knew of him or worked in conjunction with him.

Here's his picture . . . his profile picture to be more specific . . . from 1979 . . . not kidding even a little bit.

Illegal Immigrants

I'm not quite sure where to begin except to say that all the hoopla surrounding illegal immigrants needs to stop. It's really disturbing to the way some people view those they don't think should be in the United States.

The recent list that was sent to law enforcement and media outlets in Utah is appalling: names, DOBs, social security numbers, due dates of pregnant women.

Unless you're the direct descendant of an American Indian (and I'm not talking about if you're 1/8 Indian), you're the descendant of immigrants. So your family fought in the Revolutionary War? Great! Thanks proving that your family moved here illegally. But they had permission to leave their original country? Oh, ok. Who'd they ask when they landed if they could stay here? The Indians? Yeah, I thought so

What? Your family moved here and came through Ellis Island? Awesome - so did mine. You think that makes your the descendant of legal immigrants? You're right, but only because the United States had different laws about immigration than they do now.

Illegal immigrants aren't taking away jobs. They're doing the jobs you don't want to do. Like cleaning chicken poop out of a chicken factory. Or picking fruit. Or making your fancy dinner at some fine dining restaurant.

Ugh. I'll get off my soap box now.

Phone Etiquette 101

True story from today . . .

 - Hi, this is Sarah calling from [blah, blah, blah], and I wanted to get some information on facility reservations for a conference we're having in September. Please give me a call when you have a chance at 212-555-5555 x549. Thanks.

Aww, crap. I left the wrong extension. [We changed phone systems at work this past spring. The main number stayed the same, but we everyone in the organization got a new extension.]

 - Hi, this is Sarah calling from [blah, blah, blah] again. I just realized I left you the wrong number to reach me. My actual number is 212-555-5555 x11106. Thanks again.

[I look at my phone.] Oh my God. My extension is 11103! 11106 is my zip code!!! Please, please, please don't tell me I've been giving out the wrong extension for the last few months. [Checks a reservation form.] Oh no. Oh no. I e-mailed them too, so the contact info should be correct. [Checked my e-mail signature] Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhh. My e-mail signature has the wrong number in it! Oh my God! Oh my God!

[And there goes my day.]

Speed Dating (Update) - Mike D. 207

Of course as I'm getting off the subway at my stop, I see one of the nerdy white guys from my speed dating adventure head to the stairs right in front of me. What do I do? Cower behind him, hoping he doesn't see me of course.

Of course he is wearing the same aquamarine polo he had on when I saw him last.

Of course he is going ridiculously slowly.

Of course he heads to the same exit I do.

Of course I have to almost come to a dead stop so I don't literally run into him.

Of course I follow him down the street a block, not speeding up for fear of passing him and of him recognizing me and of him accosting me in the street.

Of course it's Mike D. 207, the editor of a cable TV magazine.

Of course.

Speed Dating

From urbandictionary.com . . .
speed date: (v)

• An organised social event to facilitate meeting new people, usually for hetrosexuals wishing to meet new potential partners. Equal numbers of both sexes attend, usually paying a gratuity of around GBP£20. Each spends about three minutes talking to each member of the oppposite sex - the social interaction that takes place therein is referred to as a "speed date." At the end of the evening everyone marks on a card who they would like to date again and who they wouldn't. The organisers then swap contact information between matches - usually an email address or mobile phone number. Speed dating apparently started in New York, and was popularised by TV show 'Sex In The City'. It is now most popular amongst professionals in their mid 20's and 30's.
• when 2 members of the oppostite sex meet for a 20 min date ofcoffee and conversation. this situation leave more options ie. if you like her you might let her buy you dinner. if she winds up being a freakshow you can always say. "ah shucks... i forgot... i need to go floss my cat"

For some reason, I've always been fascinated with the idea of speed dating. I remember hearing about it on the news when I was in high school and thinking it was the stupidest idea ever. "Who wouldn't have time to go on a date," I thought. You get older, and you get a little wiser. The concept sounded kind of fun: you get a bunch of random strangers together and have a bunch of mini dates. Maybe you meet someone awesome, but if not you've only wasted an hour.

Last week, I finally had my chance to go. A friend had a coupon for $5 speed dating, so we signed up. Most speed dating companies charge around $40 a pop which is why I was always hesitant to sign up. But for $5? Sure, sign me up. (They apparently needed more women which is how we got it $5.)

I went into the night with no expectations except to have fun. The event was held at Battery Gardens in Battery Park. They have a really nice patio area right on the water. The sunset in the west, Statue of Liberty to the south, Brooklyn to the east. What more could you ask for in terms of setting?

My friend and I got there early to have a drink and relax a bit before things got underway. The event started a little late, but not to worry. There were nine guys and nine girls - a low turn out but still ok. The girls ranged from really pretty to about average with the majority being average. On a really good day I would rate myself as gorgeous (obviously); that day, I was in the above average group. The guys, on the other hand, leaned heavily to the "Sarah's not attracted to you" side of the scale. Two were Indian (I really have trouble with the accent), three were white (very, very white) from NY/NJ who had never left the tri-state area (going to Rutgers does not count as leaving home), one was African (he was intriguing), one was of Filipino descent but from NJ (he was intriguing), two were African American (one hot, one not).

I wish I could somehow explain the nerdy white guys. I'm sure you know the type. Their entire extended families live in NY, NJ, or CT. They've never lived anywhere but one of those three states, although they would "consider" it. They hold jobs like professional organizer (dead serious) or cable tv magazine editor (still serious). Unlike all the other people in the group, male and female, they've done speed dating multiple times without success. Ok, ok. Maybe they were successful, but I wouldn't count on it.

I can talk to anyone for a period of time, but these guys made me count down the eight minutes. They also made me work for a conversation which is just bad news. I get that there are socially awkward people, but don't make it awkward for me too. If your cat is more responsive in conversation than you are, don't go to a social event like this. And don't be surprised that I know what a professional organizer is.

I left the event with two guys I was interested in: the Filipino guy and the hot black guy. I entered my selections of "2nd date" online the next day, but so far no response. Fortunately, there's nothing lost. See, after the event, you go to the website and everyones' name and random number (it's on their nametag) is listed. For each person, you select 2nd Date, Friendship, Business, or nothing at all. If the other person selects the same thing you selected (say, 2nd Date), then the site forwards your contact info to the other person. If there's not a match (2nd date v. friendship), then nothing happens.

Oh well - nothing ventured, nothing gained. I just want to know where the attractive-single-and-attracted-to-Sarah-guys are. I may even settle for moderately-attractive-single-and-attracted-to-Sarah guys. Maybe.

Free and the City

It's summer in New York and that means tons of free stuff to do - sweet. Working for virtually nothing means it's great to find free stuff. Here's a list of things I've found to do in and around the city.

Ongoing through September 30 (a.k.a. Sarah's new work out schedule)
Tuesdays - 6:30 p.m. - Pilates in Rivereside Park
Wednesdays - 6:00 p.m. - 9:00 p.m. - Game Night in Bryant Park - Southwest Porch - free games like taboo and jenga! Also, a really fun outdoor bar. There's porch swings, rocking chairs, benches, $9 drinks. Ok, the $9 drink part I'd change if I could, but it's a fun spot. Whatever you do, don't go to the Bryant Park Grill. It's just not good.
Thursdays - 6:00 p.m. - Yoga in Bryant Park
Saturdays - 9:30 a.m. & 11:00 a.m. - Yoga in the Socrates Sculpture Park
Sundays - 10:00 a.m. - Pilates in the Socrates Sculpture Park

Now - August 1 - Shakespeare in the Park - Uh, free show with Al Pacino and Jesse L. Martin. There's no question I'll go at some point. Yes, you have to wait in line starting at the crack of dawn to get tickets, but it's totally worth it. (You can pay $175/ticket too, but why do that when you can get them for free?)

Now - June 27 - Key to the City - This is perhaps the coolest thing I've heard of so far this summer. You go to a kiosk in Times Square with a friend where you pick up a key to the city. You bestow a key to your friend and they bestow one to you. (These aren't my rules.) Anyways, the keys unlock one of 25 secret places in one of the five boroughs. For example, one key opens a closet in Gracie Mansion. Another gets you a special treat at an ice cream shop. Most keys unlock a secret through Labor Day.

Now - October 8 - Free Bike Fridays - Governor's Island - trade your driver's license for a bike.

Now - October 31 - Pool in Battery Park - uh, who knew there were free pool tables in Battery Park? Head to Rockefeller Park (in Battery Park) to pick up cues. Not me, but I do know there's ping pong in Bryant Park.

Now - Fall - New York Outrigger - apparently these things are Hawaiian canoes and more difficult to navigate. Sure, I'll take a lesson.

Now - Fall - Kayaking in the Hudson - the mafia dropped bodies in the East River so you'll be fine in the Hudson.

Wednesday, 6/9 - 8:00 p.m. - Norah Jones Concert - Prospect Park

Saturday, 6/12 - Brooklyn Botanic Garden Bee-Day Party
Saturday, 6/12 & Sunday, 6/13 - Big Apple BBQ - not free but only $8/plate.

Saturday, 6/19 - 2:00 p.m. - Mermaid Parade - Coney Island

Sunday, 6/27 - Polo on Governor's Island - Prince Harry will be there. Need I say more?


Sunday, 6/27 - 12:00 p.m. - Grits Throwdown - Not free and no Prince Harry, but GRITS! Some 
friends are trying to convince me to enter my shrimp and grits, but I'm pushing for a day of polo matches followed by making shrimp and grits. That should work, right?

Mondays, 6/28 - 8/23 - Movies at Bryant Park - I'm trying to figure out if I can get food delivered to the park. Otherwise, I'll just send someone out to get us something.

Thursdays, 7/8 - 8/12 - Broadway in Bryant Park - different performances each week.

Tuesday, 7/13 - New York Philharmonic in Central Park - Great Lawn
Wednesday, 7/14 - New York Philharmonic in Central Park - yes, it's two nights. That's not a typo. Branford Marsalis guest performs.

Wednesday, 7/21 - Daily Show and Friends at Summer Stage - hosted by Lewis Black.

Friday, 8/13 - Blondie and Pat Benatar - Seaside Summer Concert Series at Coney Island

Ongoing
Sony Wonder Lab
New York Classical Theatre
Shakespeare in the Parking Lot
Nurse Bettie - ooh, la, la. Burlesque shows. Find them on Facebook for a password for a free drink.
Right Rides - Right Rides provides free rides home for women and members of the LGBTQ community. That's right, free. It's a pretty awesome organization. Donate to them.
Museums - most of them have a suggested donation amount, but you can donate less if need be.

Stephen Colbert and Peaches

Still one of my all time favorite clips.

The Colbert Report	Mon - Thurs 11:30pm / 10:30c
National Peach Month
www.colbertnation.com
Colbert Report Full Episodes Political Humor Fox News

Things Not to Include in a Dating Profile

1. I like fencing, swimming, and video games.
 - You like one of them? Sure. Put it in. All three? Don't admit it to strangers.

2. I'm working at Best Buy.
 - Congrats on the job after college (seriously), but don't spend all your money on video games.

3. I'm really good at . . . , , , Left 4 Dead 2.
 - Sarah shakes her head and says, "Oh, lord."

Little Girl Goes East

Back in February, I had a pretty rough week. The boy and I were no longer the boy and I, work was ridiculous because of crazy snow storms, and to top it off, my dog died. Like I said, not one of the best weeks ever.

My sister called to tell me about Belle, my 12 year old yellow lab. It was time for her annual check up, and my sister and my mom loaded her up in the car to take her to the vet. While there, they learned that Belle had some serious health problems and that it would be in Belle's best interest to put her to sleep. They decided to go ahead and put her to sleep at that visit. Fortunately, Belle wasn't in pain, and I'm glad that my mom and sister were with her.

Before calling to tell me the news, my sister Kate called my friend Erich to tell him the news in case I needed a hug. Crying on the phone to him, she explained that Belle was put to sleep and asked that he check on me. I've heard the story from both of them regarding the incident and it makes me smile every time I think about it a couple of reasons. First, Erich knew that something serious had to have happened for Kate to call him. Having talked to my sister on the phone while she's crying, I know it's sometimes difficult to decipher what's going on. When he realized she was calling to tell me about my dog, he thought she was crazy. Second, the fact that Kate called Erich in the first place to tell him what happened and to tell him to check on me shows me what a fantastic sister she is. I can't imagine life without her. We didn't always get along as kids and we're still pretty different, but I know she'll always be there for me.

And now, Kate's moving to China. She heads to Guangzhou, China on July 30 where she'll be the new Athletic Trainer for the American International School of Guangzhou for the next school year. I'm super excited for Kate and definitely a little bit jealous. It will be an incredible adventure, and I can't wait to visit her. (You know I'm gonna figure out a way to get there even if it's by boat.) I'm excited to hear about her culture shock (because you know it's gonna happen) and how she adapts to living in a large city. (Kate doesn't really like NYC because it's too big. Guangzhou has 12 million people. NYC has 8 million.) She just started a new blog to document everything.

Little Girl - I hope you have the most amazing adventure possible. I can't wait to hear all about your experiences. I'm so proud of you. I love you, and I found this song just for you.

Katz's Deli

This past August (I think it was August) I went to Kat'z Deli for the first time. For those of you who don't know, Katz's is one of the four delis you'll probably make it to as a tourist (Carnegie, 2nd Avenue, and Ben's are the other three). Besides being delicious, Katz's is where Meg Ryan had one of the best orgasms caught on film ever. (Get your mind out of the gutter if you don't know what I'm referring to and go to the link.) Anyways, I'd been to Carnegie Deli on a family trip to NYC in 2001. We went to Ben's over Christmas in 2006. I made it to 2nd Avenue Deli, which is no longer on 2nd Ave, with a friend when she was sick. Katz's was my last of the delis to go to.

So, back to my story. FD3 and I decided to go one afternoon for lunch. Katz's is one of his favorites, and I'm always up for new things, so it seemed like a good idea. Of course, it being a beautiful Sunday afternoon (maybe Saturday, I don't remember) the place was packed. No surprise there. However, I was surprised to be handed a ticket by a security guard as I walked in. Unlike at Carnegie and 2nd Ave where a waiter comes to your table, most people at Katz's go stand in line at the counter to order. You give the person behind the counter your ticket and they mark off what you ordered so that when you leave the person at the register knows what to charge you for. If you don't get anything, you hand them your blank ticket. I'm not sure who invented this system and I see how it makes sense, but it still doesn't all at the same time. Moving on . . .

Not wanting to lose a chance at a table, I immediately found an empty table for two right beside the counter. I told FD3 what I wanted, a roast beef sandwich on wheat (I know, I know - I've since learned that I like pastrami, but I still don't like rye), and he got in line. The table I grabbed was the closest to the door and right next to the sandwich line which meant there were 50 butts in my face when I looked to at the line. I'm not even kind of kidding. They were right there. After I'd been sitting for a few minutes, the table just to the left opened up and I hopped over there. Somewhere in the span of that 30 seconds, I lost my ticket. I checked the table. I checked the other table. I checked the floor. I checked my pocket. I checked my purse. I checked my other pocket. It was gone. At some point FD3 came back with our food and I told him what happened. Mind you we'd been dating for maybe a few weeks at this point. Maybe. We weren't even at the point where you're dating someone, but rather you've been on a few dates. What he must have been thinking of the crazy girl who lost her ticket I will never know, but I can't imagine it was all that good. (And he didn't even know about my bad math skills at that point either.) 

Neither of us knew what happened when you lost a ticket so we continued on with our lunch until one of us noticed a sign: Please return all tickets (used or unused) when leaving. The tickets are your check and exit pass. Any lost ticket will incur a $50 lost ticket charge (minimum). Do not lose or discard tickets. Thank you, Mgmt.

My jaw dropped. They had to be kidding. I searched under the table, under all the plates, under the old table, under the napkin dispenser. No ticket. Finally, it was about time for us to leave and I still had no idea where the ticket was. Defeated, I went up to one of the security guards and told him I'd lost my ticket. The expression on his face did not allay my fears. He came over to my table to help me look again. I must have looked like I'd lost my puppy because the security guard went to talk to the manager. (What can I say? I can pull out the dramatics when I need to. I'm no Meg Ryan, but I can pout.) The security guard came back and said it would be ok but to see him when we left. We made it out of the restaurant only paying the crazy amount for two sandwiches, two waters, and some macaroni salad. No $50 charge added.

Why FD3 didn't think I was completely crazy and end things then I'll never know. (I like to think it's because I'm charming and alluring, but it's also because he's a good guy too.) I made it back to Katz's this past Friday night. I'd been at a biergarten in the East Village with friends and we decided to head to Katz's for late night sandwiches. You better believe I held onto my ticket tightly. At the end of the night I still had it and paid $20 for a pastrami sandwich (still no rye) and a bottle of water. 

I still have no clue what happened to my ticket the first time, but part of me hopes that some day I randomly find it in my jeans pocket.

We can't move forward until you send it back.

It's 2010. (Duh, I know.) I completed my first census last month, because I wanted to be counted. And because I was scared that some poor college kid was gonna show up at my door to actually count me if I didn't send it back. Problem is, I think I filled it out wrong!

Eek! It's not like my taxes where I can make an amendment and fix it. I don't think I can get it back.

 - Sarah, how could you have filled it out wrong? It's only ten questions.
I know. I know. My critical thinking skills may not have been with me.

 - What part did you fill out incorrectly?
My race.

 - Really? How is that possible?
Oh faithful blog reader, you may recall that 3 1/2 years ago I learned I was mixed-race. Yup. I'm a mutt, which I always knew, just didn't know that I was actually a mutt in terms of race as well. (Stranger things have happened.) I never forgot this, but apparently I didn't know how to fill out my census form until it was too late.

Today at work (ur season just ended, so I've got some time on my hands), I happened to come across the website for the Network of Arab-American Professionals. Under the Upcoming Events for New York, I saw the following:

(It's ok to laugh. I laughed out loud. My coworkers think I'm crazy sometimes.)

The NAAP suggests that people check "other" instead of "white" and write in "Arab" or "Arab-American." I suppose I could have written in something other than that too, but I failed this test. I also missed out on the NY Arab-American Comedy Festival! and the Afterwork Networker in Bryant Park. Ah, such is life.

Now I just have to file away this information for another 10 years when hopefully I don't fail the census again.

Dear Josh

Remember FD1?

Remember when he winked at me a month or so ago?

Remember when he winked at me again on Sunday? Remember when I sent him the following e-mail?*

Dear Josh,


Thanks for winking at me. It's good to know you think I'm attractive and still (yes, still) think we might be good together. Unfortunately, we're not a good match. How do I know? Because we went out once before and then you asked me out again and I politely declined saying we're not a good match. Why aren't we a good match? Unfortunately, I don't like baseball and I know you have season tickets for the Yankees. Also, I'm not going to hang out with you at your place a.k.a. your parents' place. As much fun as I'd probably have with your parents (parents like me), I don't want to go with the three of y'all to your country house this summer.


I am glad you're "getting out there" and meeting people, but honestly, you're making my self-esteem plummet. Please stop.


Best of luck,
Sarah


*I may not have sent the e-mail above, but I am this close.

PowerPoint Makes Us Stupid

In honor of not moving forward in an application process solely based on a 3 slide PowerPoint, I give you "PowerPoint makes us stupid."

Don't be such a pill

Fifty years ago next week, the FDA approved the birth control pill as first oral contraceptive. Like all matters regarding sex, the pill's approval was not met without controversy. Some doctors claimed that the birth control pill would be the end to the world's poverty problem, to divorce, to unwed pregnancy. Others feared it would make men impotent because, if on the pill, women would become the more dominant sexual partner which, duh, would make men feel inferior.

Obviously, the pill has stuck around. While most women go on "it" to prevent unwanted pregnancy, there are other benefits such as clearing up acne and regulating cycles. Getting a prescription for birth control pills is almost like a rite of passage. Every woman has her own reasons for doing so, but fortunately, taking birth control correctly usually produces the same end result: no babies.

That's where birth control pills end. Yes, there are no babies (usually). There's clearer skin. There's the fact that you're period comes like clockwork (unless you're me and you have a period for a month and you're not having sex - super fun). But, there's still diseases. For some reason a lot of people (who don't want to get pregnant) think that getting pregnant is the worst thing that can happen if you have sex, but it's not. Don't get me wrong. Pregnancy is life altering even if you're not on 16 and Pregnant. Birth control pills can prevent pregnancy when used correctly, but they cannot prevent STDs. End of story.

I am glad that women have the choice to use birth control pills as a type of contraceptive, but I hope that most are smart enough to only use them in monogamous relationships.

Running Across the Grass

As far as parks go, it's hard to beat Central Park. I'm sure you can, but there's something about a massive (843 acres) park surrounded by skyscrapers that makes it magical. There's a zoo, two ice-skating rinks, and a castle. Come on - how do you beat a park with a zoo and a castle?

Amazingly, this post is not about Central Park but rather Bryant Park. Bryant Park sits steps away from Times Square and is home to the New York Public Library. Not surprisingly, Bryant Park used to be a bit shady (not in the tree-lined sense of the word) and was the frequent site of muggings and drug deals. (It says so on the park's website. I'm not just exaggerating.) Now, Bryant Park hosts Fashion Week twice a year. It's also the permanent home to public ping pong tables, chess tables, restaurants and bars, and a carousel. During the winter there is a skating rink on the lawn surrounded by a holiday market. In the summer time, they hold free outdoor movies on the lawn.

Normally, the lawn opens in the late spring for the local business person to enjoy during lunch. Because of all the rain we had over the winter, the lawn is currently roped off. There's a sign that says it will open on April 30 - only a few more days! Amazingly, people don't cross the rope and walk through the grass. I was incredibly tempted to run across the park the other day, but resisted. I envisioned being tackled by Bryant Park security guards like those crazy people at baseball games that jump into the outfield and run across the grass before they're tackled and arrested. I don't think I would have been arrested for running across the park lawn, but I didn't think it was a good theory to test.

On Friday, I worked from Bryant Park for the afternoon. (Did I mention free wireless?) A coworker and I got there right around lunch time and it was packed. Luckily, we found two seats next to a couple finishing up lunch at one of the few tables in the park and slipped into their seats once the left. They offered to let us sit with them, but I didn't want to crowd them. (Who says New Yorkers aren't nice?) As the day progressed, the business people left and more tourists and families arrived. I looked up and there was a couple next to me waving to someone behind me. I turned to see who it was because I'm nosy like that and saw a little girl, perhaps 2-years old, wandering on the lawn. Her parents were beckoning her towards them, but all she saw was freedom in the grass. She ran her waddle-y run further into the middle of the lawn. Not wanting to cross the barrier onto the grass, her parents followed along the edge of the lawn. Unfortunately, hundreds of people sat along the perimeter of the lawn, myself included, and so they had to walk behind a few rows of people sitting. The little girl went deeper and deeper into the lawn and thus further and further from her parents. Everyone sitting along the perimeter began to watch as she ran uninhibited through the grass, jealous that she was free from judgment for running through the yard. As the little girl approached the far end of the lawn she realized her parents were "lost" in the crowd and she turned around to run back. Sensing that this was not the course she should take she turned back again. Then she started to cry. Her parents called her name and waved to her frantically. She saw them finally, started waving back, and ran towards them.

Inhibitions are one of those weird, learned behaviors that are introduced at a young age. The little girl never cared that people were watching her run across the grass. It was only when she couldn't find her parents that she noticed something was strange. Still, she didn't care about the people watching her. Although I don't know for sure, I would put money down that the little girl would be much more cognizant of all the watchful eyes in a few short years. Certainly, some are less concerned with what their peers think than others, but most people have some level of inhibition.

I wish I was a brave as the little girl running through Bryant Park.