SId Stein Cashes In One of His Nine Lives

Today is my birthday. Although it’s a day of celebration, I like to devote a portion of the day reflecting on my past. It’s not the same brand of intense scrutiny required on Rosh HaShanah, the Jewish New Year. Rather, it’s a time to remember some close brushes with death. I can only hope that I really do have nine lives. My next few entries will explore this theme. Here is one such tale.

It was Thursday. A cold winter night. I started my evening in downtown Albany and eventually made my way up to the Bleecker, at the corner of State and Dove. It was karaoke night back in the day when Sue was still the bartender. Sue always took good care of me. Maybe she cared too much for me on occasion. I probably shouldn’t have left her such good tips. She has been gone a few years now, ever since the Bleecker changed hands. I miss her.

Thursday is my night to go a little wild. It’s my favorite night of the week for going out and this particular Thursday was no different. And yes, I knew better than to drive. Still, finding a cab in Albany is sometimes tricky. One has the option of calling a cab from the bar. Depending on availability, it can take a long time before one arrives. On the other hand, it’s fairly easy to flag one down on Lark Street at the corner of Madison. There are over six popular bars near that corner, not to mention the queen of the capital region’s Dunkin Donuts, where Maria and Belinda, members of the Latin coffee cartel, serve coffee, donuts and breakfast sandwiches to cops, drunks and bums. I wonder which group I belong to. Anyway, I usually get a Coolatta and a coffee cake. Maria sometimes treats me when she has questions about Family Court. She often does. My destination this Thursday, however, was on the opposite corner. I wanted a slice of Romeo’s pizza. I was hungry after a night of singing. And drinking.

From the Bleecker, it’s a solid 15-20 minute walk to Romeo’s. You can add a few minutes because I was walking slowly. I always walk a bit slower after a few hours of strenuous karaoke. I remember that I was in a good mood, singing softly to myself as I made my way, west up State Street, past brownstones, and then south on Lark. Lark is an eclectic mix of bars, restaurants, shops and apartments. I would always pause and reflect at the pink-painted brownstone formerly owned by Char until she had to file for bankruptcy protection. Her former home is still pink. No one has brought it out of foreclosure. I have no idea why. Maybe it has ghosts. I wouldn’t be surprised. Char is an Albany icon. A stunning blonde with pale yet luminous skin, and always dressed in gothic black, Char owned the QE2, Albany’s premier punk/hardcore rock club. She hosted some great bands over the years. Char wasn’t a great business woman, but she knew music like no one else. A lot of great acts performed there before becoming famous. She even had a double bill of Soundgarden and the Red Hot Chili Peppers. My personal all-time favorites were the Genitorturers and Jonathan Richman (he sang "There’s Something About Mary). They each made annual visits. But, I digress. What I want you to remember is that it was very late at night, close to 2 am and I was minding my own business. http://www.larkstreet.org/dining_nightlife.php

About halfway down Lark, I was confronted by two men, both in their thirties. "What the f%@& is your problem?" the bigger one barked. Apparently, he was not in as good a mood as I. "I have no f%@#ing problems," I confessed. With that, the bigger and uglier one got right up in my face. "You want to start something?" He was full of questions. "Just get the hell out of here," I countered.

To be honest, I can’t recall the exact conversation after this point. I do remember that I was in imminent danger of getting my ass kicked. There were two of them, but even one could have accomplished the feat without breaking a sweat. Sid, I thought, you’ve got a problem. A big f#%$ing problem.

All of a sudden, a tall black man came bounding across Lark Street. He immediately positioned himself between me and these rather rude and confrontational cavemen. "Why don’t you just turn around and keep walking," he suggested. At first, the bulkier Neanderthal balked. "It’s not your f#%$ing problem. I wasn’t talking to you. Stay out of it." My rescuer remained calm and replied: "Listen, this is a black man telling you to turn around and keep walking. I recommend that you do just that." I was impressed by his quiet power. The two thugs stood their ground. "Once again, this is a black man telling you to just turn around and keep walking."

My would-be attackers appeared to reflect on the moment and then turned and walked away. Even before I was finally able to breathe again, my savior put his arm around me and in an almost innocent way, inquired: "Are you a top or a bottom?" "Sorry," I replied. "I’m not gay, but thanks for coming to my rescue." "No problem," he responded. "Glad I could help." And off he went.

In Albany, we have a saying just for these moments. "Only on Lark Street."

I continued on my way to Romeo’s and ordered two slices. Why not?

Sid Stein Considers A Career In Travel

As you scroll through the profiles on Jdate, the Jewish dating site, patterns begin to emerge. I am sure this is true for most online dating sites. If you have been living in the dark ages until recently, then know this - women love to travel. Some even "love love love" to travel. Okay, I got it the first time. Many women stress this "love" as if it is something unique to them. I even suspect that a woman’s desire to travel has something to do with more than just not having to make dinner. Call me crazy, but most people I know love to travel. It’s really not so unusual. What’s interesting on Jdate, though, is that travel seems to have become more than it is or should be. It’s downright competitive. More than a few seem to judge their self-worth solely by the nature of the destinations they have visited. The more exotic the better.

Personally, I don’t think that a trip to Borneo should be a litmus test for a relationship, but that’s just my opinion. "What do you mean? You have never been to Borneo? What kind of loser are you? Stop wasting my time!" Or, "if you haven’t scaled Everest or Kilimanjaro, then you aren’t climbing on top of me either!" Since a lot of women insist on traveling, I thought it might be good for me to consider a career in travel. What could be better?

People define travel differently. For some, ten trips to Las Vegas and five to Disneyworld is travel. For many others, we are talking India, New Zealand, Antarctica, Nepal, Madagascar, and, last but not least, Machu Picchu. Apparently, quite a few Jewish women have a deep-rooted desire to get in touch with their Incan past. Forget about Europe. If you haven’t been there at least 30 times, don’t even bothering sending an exploratory email. A worthy destination is defined as a place where you need the following: a passport, a visa, immunizations against yellow fever, Japanese encephalitis, Hepatitis B, meningococal meningitis, cholera, plague and an Ebola contamination suit.

The more I talk to these women, the more I start to wonder how they have time for work or, more importantly, at least as I am concerned, dating. Why are they even on a dating site? They aren’t even around for coffee. It’s more likely that they are picking their own coffee beans in Sumatra. I admit that it’s good coffee. I drink it. I am just not sure if it’s economical to travel halfway around the globe for a cup of coffee. How much can you drink anyway? Do they even have biscotti in Sumatra?

At this point, you may be wondering why I care. So what if a woman wants to travel? I already said that it’s not unusual. Okay, I’ll be honest. It’s personal. I live in Albany, New York, 2.5 hours north of New York City, where many of these women live. There aren’t many Jewish women in my local area. I could move, but I am staying here for the near future. So, I have been compelled by circumstances to expand my horizons. What’s the problem? As much as these women are willing to catch a plane to explore the heart of Africa, Albany is too far for them. "2.5 HOURS?! Are you kidding me? That’s too far!"

It’s confusing to say the least. True love might be waiting for them just 2.5 hours away. What do they really want? Love or adventure? Can you have both? Is there time for both? It’s easy enough to travel when you are single, but what if you have kids?

There are a few paradoxes involved here. China is not too far, but Albany is. I, the man, am looking for true love. These women are looking for adventure. On the other hand, I know damn well that if I just wanted to go on adventures, they wouldn’t want me. They would want to keep an eye on Sid Stein. Good luck finding a husband in Myanmar (that’s Burma, in case you forgot they changed the name).

Hey, if you’re dead set against dating a guy who hasn’t been to Southeast Asia, check out your local Veterans’ Administration Hospital. It’s not as if I don’t like to travel. I just haven’t been to very many places. And, I can guarantee you that I have lived outside of the United States for more time than most of these women. I was married to an Israeli in Israel when I was 24 years old. We lived there for almost 3 years. Altogether, I have spent a solid 10% of my life there. Not too shabby if I do say so myself. And, it was quality time. I really got to know the people, language and culture. I did more than just have my picture taken in front of Angkor Wat. If I hadn’t married an Israeli, I probably would have seen more of the world. It’s just that when we already had time to travel, we would go to see the ex’s family. What was I supposed to do? Deny her an opportunity to see her loved ones? And, I go to New Orleans every year. My sister lives there. New Orleans is never boring and some people even speak French!

There is another aspect to this problem. The financial part of the equation. With the high cost of living in NYC, how do these women afford such exotic vacations? Some do make a lot of money. Still, I think there is more to it than that. My theory is that they save money elsewhere. The go online, make a few dates each week, and have guys take them out to dinner. They don’t have any food expenses! No wonder they have money for travel. And, they get to try new restaurants at home. What a deal!

As Dorothy Gale answered the Tin Woodsman: "Well, I - I think that it - it wasn't enough to just want to see Uncle Henry and Auntie Em - and it's that - if I ever go looking for my heart's desire again, I won't look any further than my own back yard. Because if it isn't there, I never really lost it to begin with! Is that right?"

And, of course: "Oh, but anyway, Toto, we're home. Home! And this is my room, and you're all here. And I'm not gonna leave here ever, ever again, because I love you all, and - oh, Auntie Em - there's no place like home!"

And she lived in friggin’ Kansas. Albany is way better! And closer!