Syzlak’s SEM

Syzlak – Lost in NY, Part I

Posted on: May 9, 2008 by Syzlak

7 years ago I went to NY. It was about 2 weeks after I’d turned 21 and everyone thought it would be fun for me to go visit my brother in NY. For about 3 or 4 days, I lived in NY with him. Slept on the couch, went to debate meetings, bummed around the village, hit up film premieres, drank copious amounts of liquor, learned how to really be a man (def of a man: drunk). Sunday night, my last night in the city, my brother and I discussed how we should call my dad and have him change my itinerary so that I could stay one more night. A few of my brother’s friends had some sort of traditional drinking/trivia thing they did on Mondays. Since we were pussies (def of a pussy: sober), we never did. I got back to Eugene late on Monday night, and went out to 6th St Bar & Grill (aptly named for its location on 6th Ave. Really, if you’ve never been to Eugene, book a trip now! It’s possibly one of the most irritating places I’ve ever lived and yet you never really hate it the entire time you’re there).

Every night was different at 6th St., this night was $2 drink night (well). This meant that I could drink my fair share of bourbon and spend under $30 (unlike my brother and his fancy big-city lifestyle, I remain a cheapskate mid-westerner). In retrospect, this night was one of the oddest experiences I’d have at a bar to this day. The characters, the atmosphere, the length of time I was there…it all adds to the night.

4point wasn’t his given name, but by the end of the night that’s how we knew him. In Eugene (in much of Oregon), a black man stands out like a sore thumb. With under 2% of the population being African-American, and half of that percentage being college students, to see a 50 year-old black man at a bar is sobering. It reminds you that there’s a bigger world, beyond college, beyond the college town, beyond the white-bread state, beyond the affluence of the left coast. As I sat hunched over my drink at the bar, 4point placed his hand on my back and told me to sit up straight, it demands respect. He then went into a diatribe on sitting and studying, various different discussions of intelligence and pride. It was mildly interesting, but his point about sitting up straight at a bar has always stuck with me. Nowadays, I usually go to the bar to write, and every so often I remember what he said and sit up. It still fills me with pride.

The bartender kicked 4point out about 10 minutes later. Apparently he was a drunk that always stumbled through the bar on Monday, and rambled about this or that. I thought it unjust, but oh well, I was still new to public drinking. Soon, I was sitting next to two Air Force pilots from Iowa, my home state. What the hell they were doing in Eugene, I can’t remember, but we got along very well. We talked about my brother and the great trip I’d had to NY. They talked about Iowa and being in the Air Force, we drank and talked about family and the Midwest for hours.

Then it was just me and the bartender.

I hadn’t closed out a bar before, it was kind of daunting to do it so early on in my professional career, but I knew it would be good practice for later. As the seats went up, and televisions were being turned off around the room, I started to feel a panic. This is an amateur response. A veteran will tell you that you still have time and that the bartender will definitely let you know when you need to leave. I wasn’t ready, I downed my drink too quickly and started to scamper out. I was amazed at the time, when the bartender asked if I was all set. That was the beginning of my “understanding the code.”

I lived only 15 blocks away, but that night it felt like forever. Eugene is quiet at night, not like NY. You can stumble and piss anywhere you like, and it’s comforting that no matter how fucked up you are, you’re never as fucked up as someone else.

That night I slept hard, and woke up around 9 or 10, after missing 35 phone calls. The one I wasn’t going to miss was my brother, who was calling at that minute.

“Hello,” I managed to mumble out.

“Hey, I just wanted you to know that I’m alive.”

“Far out man. Me too.”

He told me to turn on a TV, and I made sure he understood I didn’t have cable… I’d find out soon that that wouldn’t matter.

And that’s how it happened. That’s how I found out that the World Trade Centers had been hit by two planes, and that had I waited to fly out Tuesday morning, I’d have been stuck in NY for God knows how long. Over the next 7 years, countless opportunities for me to go back to NY would present themselves, I’d always pass on the chance. I’m not superstitious, but I didn’t want to go back-something never felt right.

Something had to eventually change, so when my brother’s birthday came up the other week, I took the opportunity to fly out for the weekend.

******

I’m not a fan of people, I find that they often cramp my style even though I make a conscious effort not to cramp theirs. Case in point:

This asshole.

Very rarely have I had the “pleasure” of sitting next to the guy from hell. Thankfully, this was a 5 hour flight! Tips for traveling next to Syzlak:

• Don’t talk to me
• Don’t read a paper the way you would on the set of Dobie Gillis
• Don’t steal 100% of the armrest – it’s there for both of us
• Don’t wear sunglasses inside, you douche bag
• Dress accordingly before you get on the fucking flight so that you aren’t draping your fucking wool jacket over me for 5 hours! I sweat in winter you asshole!!

Fortunately, he wasn’t the only guy pissing me off during the flight…everyone else was there too. Including the walrus:

This man slept most of the flight. Then, when we came into land, he woke up and proceeded to make walrusesque sounds
and various moans for the next 10 minutes. That sucked. What sucked worse, was his halitosis which would linger after every outburst.

Not long after that, I was in the city.

NY really is a different city, much more like it’s own small nation-state, so I stayed at a hotel near my brother to make the weekend that much easier. He lives in the financial district at the south end of Manhattan, thus the subway stop I needed to take to be close to my hotel and his place was the World Trade Center stop. Helluva way to start the trip…