I can’t resist potty humor.

Tonight I was at a CVS looking for a patella tendon strap. On the aisle was an older, very well put together American woman. I walked past her towards the other end of the aisle. I stopped to look at the straps when I heard the lady tear apart her underwear with a very guttural, very long fart. I couldn’t believe my ears. It was so long and so loud that it clearly had to have been intentional. I put the strap I was looking at down immediately and turned to exit the aisle for fear that I would burst out into hysterical laughter.

I left the store.

The future is predicated on what we do in the present. The future is going to happen regardless of my minuscule existence in the line of time. The question is what should my future, or your future look like?

Last year when I returned to New York, I returned with a vigor to find someone to spend my present and potentially future with. As a Jewish man who had never dated a Jewish lady, I thought it was time to shape my future with someone from a similar background (our past also dictates our future..I’m divorced from a catholic woman). I joined jDate. Within an hour of my online dating profile going live I was inundated with emails from famished Jewish women. I was like a slab of raw meat tossed into a tiger’s cage.

Many of you must be thinking this is great. The proverbial pick of the litter. The only problem is that the demographics of the litter was just that, litter.

I went out on many first dates and much fewer second dates and I think only one third date. One of the more memorable first dates started at a tea/coffee place in NoLita. Tea/coffee was chosen because I believe I had mentioned that I had recently stopped drinking alcohol and would rather have tea. A couple months prior I had acute pancreatitis from drinking too much, so I was on the wagon for a while to heal.

I met the girl out front of the establishment and we did the obligatory cheeky kiss hello. She then said “So, you’re in AA too?” It felt like time stood still while I scratched my head and wondered why she would start off with such a silly phrased sentence. I mean, if she dropped the ‘too’ at the end, you wouldn’t be reading this. I responded “no, I just got sick from drinking too much when I was in Barbados.” I felt like a pirate.

Let the awkwardness begin. We ordered some tea, which really was just a formality. We had some unremarkable conversation all while my head was spinning on the ‘too’ part of her opening line.

I asked; “So, I guess you’re in AA?” She then corrected me by saying “No, I’m in NA.” NA is Narcotics Anonymous. Uh Oh… She then started telling about her former cocaine use, abuse and addiction. I was, unfortunately, fascinated. I started paying attention to her body language. She looked as if she was on coke at the time. Fidgety would be an understatement. I was waiting for her to take some of the tea leaves and massage it on her gums. She was talking quite fast and started telling me about the surgery she needs on her nose because she no longer has cartilage. Gross. As a former prosecutor in Miami, I asked if she had ever been arrested. She appeared to be on a cathartic roll and answered that she had been arrested, in Las Vegas. The story was that she was completely naked, in a bathroom stall, snorting coke when a butch female cop kicked the door open and arrested her. The depravity in me was slightly turned on by that but the reality of it made me want to run.

Despite many of the things on this blog, I’m not really an abrasive guy. Yes, I wanted to run from this disaster of a first date, but I didn’t want this seemingly fragile woman to fear honesty in the future (see there is the ‘future’ theme here). I walked her home. It was a painfully long walk to her apartment. As we approached she pointed out her building. Standing on the street in front was a homeless man with his penis exposed toward the street as he urinated. She invited me upstairs. Despite the feeling that I had carte blanche to her body, the mature me wished her a good night and I was free of the disaster. I’m sure she will make someone very happy. With about 13.5 million Jews worldwide, she wouldn’t be the one for me.

I digress. The future is what we make of it here in the present. In furtherance of that I feel as though I have a belated vigor to shape what my future will bring. Writing this blog is part of that and I hope you like it.

I’ve called Miami home for 15+ years before moving to New York City for work.  While I like NYC, there is not base for me there.  My NYC job is only 6 months of the year and the other 6 months I get out of town to avoid sheer boredom and depression as it is the winter months of NYC that I avoid.  

If you’re following this log, then you know I’ve been traveling in warm climates.

Now I’m back in Miami to work playoff games for the Miami HEAT.  I’ve worked for the HEAT since 1996 and while it’s a low level job, it’s one that brings me much pleasure.  I’ve been a fan of the NBA for decades and having a calibre team like the HEAT has now makes it even better. 

What I really find interesting is that when you live in a city long enough, certain things become invisible.  The women of Miami can be very beautiful.  It’s one of the things I’ve always loved about this city.  It’s been since my return that I’ve noticed how truly beautiful the women here are.  It’s as if Miami is a magnet and it pulls the pretty people to it.  I’m an anomaly.  

Additionally, the real estate down turn hit Miami pretty hard, yet now I see cranes everywhere again and the city seems to be in a construction boom.  I don’t get it.

I am enjoying my time here now.

To my loyal reader(s?), I’ve made it to the 305 and the underbelly of the AmericanAirlines Arena for game 1 or the second round of the NBA playoffs.

HEAT are losing with less than a minute left. I’m upset to say the least.

Am I back luck? Is it because of the decapitated Buddha’s that arrived via parcel post? If so, I’m sorry. I didn’t pack the box and was assured from the vendor that the Buddhas’ were sufficiently wrapped.

Let’s go HEAT!!!!

I made it to Florida.  The flight from NYC was very bumpy.  Not quite the turbulence I felt from Bangkok to Bali, but it was bumpy.  As we approached the landing the pilot did a series of banking maneuvers to, presumably, avoid more weather.

I was sitting in the second to last row.  No one in the two seats next to me.  Across the aisle was an obese latin woman who also had her row to herself.  About 5 minutes before landing the obese woman started making “psssst” noises.  I looked over to here and she made hand gestures like she wanted to throw up.  I’m not sure what she thought I could do for her.  I told her to hit the call button, although we were so close to landing, I knew the flight attendants wouldn’t and couldn’t get up.  She didn’t hit the call button.  Instead she got up and headed for the bathroom.  She was chastised by the flight attendant, but she went into the bathroom anyway.  Since I was second to the last row, I was horribly close to the bathrooms. And since we were literally skimming the ground, we were not allowed to use any electronics, thus my noise canceling headphones were useless.  And then I head the retching and hurling from this massive woman as she likely barfed up some ropa vieja or arroz con pollo.  As a child I used to get air sick all the time.  To this day I still get motion sick, but haven’t had any problems in flight.  At this moment, with the retching, I had to really focus on not getting sick myself.

Seconds before landing she gets back into her seat.  Because she was so fat, she had to pull the seat belt around the outside of the arm rest to get it around.  Just as she buckled herself in, the rear wheels touched down and a horrible smokey odor of vomit wafted into the cabin.  Not I was looking for my barf bag because it was everything I could do to not throw up myself.

I covered my noise with my shirt and pinched my noise to avoid the smell. Thankfully, once touched down, the flight attendants got into the bathroom and started spraying some magic elixir that got ride of the smell.  Nonetheless, I jumped to my feet, grabbed my carry-ons, and pushed as far forward as I could.

I survived without hurling.

None bothering my dinner.

Both towns are populated by about 8 million, correct?

Why is NYC seemingly full of so many more psychologically afflicted people than Hong Kong? Why does the smell of homelessness permeate through the streets and subway system more so than Hong Kong? Do they not have homeless people in Hong Kong?

Granted, NYC pulls the unfortunate from a massive country. Hong Kong has been sealed for 100 years.