We bumped into these guys on Spring Street (between Green and Mercer Streets, by the Apple Store) singing a cappella with their rendition of “Do You Love Me (Now That I Can Dance)”. I’ve seen these guys in the area before, and they draw quite the crowd - they sound fabulous together.

I thought a quick pint of Irish cider and some corned beef hash would be a lovely way to wile away the St. Patrick’s celebrations on a very warm 55′F Saturday afternoon at Jameson’s Bar, when a series of “BOOMS!” roared through the air. It originally sounded like when heavy trucks go over potholes and make that banging sound, but much, much louder. Seconds later one of the bar’s punters who had been enjoying a smoke outside came running back in shouting, “you guys better come see this!”. The entire bar scurried outside to see absolute chaos. A large plume of yellow/brown smoke was rushing towards me from just south of 52st street, and then someone pointed skyward across the street - what was later understood as half of a couple hundred foot high crane smashed into the side of a large residential apartment building. Chaos ensued. I went back into the bar and picked up my camera, took some video and some stills.

Emergency services were on the scene in seconds and soon sprang into action, cordoning off the surrounding areas. People were gathering in droves - within 20 minutes 2nd avenue was packed to the hilt with people filming, shaking their heads, wiping their eyes (we all knew someone must have been hurt. The crane was massive - utterly huge.

S and I walked around the block via 1st avenue, and were able to see the extent of the damage from the other side of 51st street - devastating. An entire apartment building behind the one the crane was leaning on was completely crushed. A mini was partly mangled and flipped onto its side and flung into the middle of the street. Firemen everywhere. Literally everywhere.

Listening and talking with various other people on the streets it became apparent what had happened. The massive crane had been tethered against a construction site (new apartment building being erected) and had come loose when contractors had been working on it. It then pivoted on it’s base, and the entire thing leaned away from the site towards the apartment building south of it on the corner of 51st street and 2nd avenue, and hit the top of the building about half way down the crane’s body - hitting it so hard that the entire top half snapped off, traveled over the apartment building onto a smaller townhouse sized building behind, flattening it. This is what created the massive plume of smoke. It turned out that the dive bar Fubar was part of that smaller building, and it too was simply obliterated. Thankfully the bar was closed for business, but the bar’s owner said that he thinks their may have been en employee on the premises at the time cleaning the bar ready for business.

The death toll at this point has reached four - I believe those four confirmed deaths were the four construction workers who were situated on the crane during the time of its collapse.

I was pretty shaken up, and I am still shocked how close I was to the collapse - half a block.

On a cold Saturday in New York City, the world’s largest train station came to a sudden halt. Over 200 Improv Everywhere Agents froze in place at the exact same second for five minutes in the Main Concourse of Grand Central Station. Over 500,000 people rush through Grand Central every day, but today, things slowed down just a bit as commuters and tourists alike stopped to notice what was happening around them.

I wish I’d have been there to witness that - superb.

[great night at my favorite Brazilian restaurant with my favorite human being]

…before tonight I never really understood what “fuck you” actually felt like.

Taking the 5 express downtown from Grand Central to Fulton Street is always an easy task - no real chore, it’s quite direct, eventless. I take this route quite often during the week, journeying home from a night with my beau - piece of cake.

I walk down the two flights of steps which take me to the Broadway/Nassau platform which is home to the A/C train - busy, to say the least. A larger commuter hub. This is the place where the Brooklyn crowd split off like a broken vein into the pounding heart that is Manhattan - and it’s no different in terms of going back into the southern borough at the end of the day either.

I normally walk the entire length - the length of the platform/train - at least I can get a standing place/seat closer to the front-most part of the train. Tonight I followed habit, walking the entire length of the platform, and coming to a stop at one of the support struts that dot the length of the station. I lean up against one, and decide that listening to some Michael Jackson may be a decent enough way to live through the next 15-20 minutes of waiting/subway riding.

I pull out my iPod and I’m scrolling through and….

[BAM!]

…my hand is knocked with a force that I’m glad that my iPod is attached to my ears by way of earphones - otherwise the fucking thing was flying out of my hands. After the initial mental “what the fuck”, I eye the [yellow] blur that followed the blatant shoulder barge, and noticed with remarkable raising of eyebrow that the cunt never looked back… not even to apologize.

Welcome to being “fuck you’d”.

My brother will attest to what I’m about to say… knock me, nudge me, no problem - just say you’re sorry… if you don’t, I’m fucking killing you. And I don’t care if it’s in public.

[sigh]

So after my blood boiling level fell to below normal, I analyzed what happened and came up with numerous fucking ways why I shouldn’t follow this prick and cave in his skull for just barging by me with such lack a of human dignity to warrant a “sorry”… I couldn’t come up with anything. I wanted to wind the earphones around my iPod, sling the thing in my bag, follow this wanker, to a public (as public as he pushed me) place and pound the shit out of this motherfucker until I felt better, entitled, suckling on the teat of victory.

Out of nowhere I gained a sense of serenity. I must have left my music running… I didn’t wind the earphones around my iPod… I didn’t follow him into violent oblivion… no suckling.

I realized how beautiful this city is, how original - the people, splendid. The sporadic events that intertwine our lives with the slightest of touches, and the heaviest of pushes. Without the slightest thought, this guy had become part of of my life whether he liked it or not.

It’s with the most fragile of changes in the innermost sanctity of breaths of experience, do we truly experience the truest sense of what is New York City.

The following song was playing when I was pushed.

Apt.

Whilst walking past the NewsCorp. building this morning on my way to get coffee I bumped into John Voigt. First thought that popped into my head: “fuck, he’s tall!”

Friendly guy - I said good morning, received an obligatory reciprocation to my pleasantry.

Thumbs up to Voigty.

A taxi rider’s bill of rights includes the right to a “smoke free ride, including incense”, so I was a tad aghast when I asked my cabbie tonight to put out his fucking cigarette, which he responded with a grumble and a rear view mirror glare.

Perhaps I’m in the wrong when I assume the role of the fucking customer.

Tip = $0.

To celebrate my forefathers receiving the Yank spank over 200 years ago, I’ll be stuffing my face with greasy burgers and potato salad - I hope too to be able to show off a bbq sauce stain or two on my shirt by 3pm.

Happy July 4th everyone - and remember, don’t hold fireworks in your hand, they is hot.

Les Miserables was amazing. Fourth row from stage. The theater packed to the brim with eager spirits. Act II, scene 4, Jean Valjean delivers a moving song entitled “Bring Him Home”. The scene is set behind the barricade of the revolutionaries, and one of them, Marius, has fallen in love with Cosette - earlier in the show Jean becomes privy to this information by way of a letter delivered to Cosette by Eponine, which Jean reads before giving to his daughter.

So, the lights dim as the soldiers rest for the night, and Jean kneels behind Marius and breaks into song - “Bring Him Home”. I think it only took about 10 seconds for my eyes to give in to the tears - I can hear it now if I take a moment to remember, and it still has the exact affect - such a beautiful song, sung beautifully by Alexander Gemignani who plays the lead role of Jean Valjean - here’s a link to a YouTube clip of Alexander singing this Les Miserables signature piece at the Drama Desk Awards.

Outstanding.

Set in the early 19th century around the time of the Napoleonic wars in France, Les Miserables tells the story of the lives of several French, including the ex convict Jean Valjean and his struggle to redeem himself. It also shows the troubled life of Cosette, daughter of prostitute Fantine. When Jean Valjean becomes a wealthy business owner, and after crossing paths with Fantine, becomes the promissory guardian of Cosette when her mother dies.

S and me are going to see this show today, 2pm, at the Broadhurst Theater, New York City. With almost front row seats in Orchestra, I’m giddy with excitement - there’s nothing like Broadway.

Friday morning, hours away from the weekend. It’s humid - humid like when you sweat for no reason.

I wonder what splendid news the world’s media will bring my way today… will it be another murdering junkie WWE wrestler, perhaps Larry King will give another loser socialite some air time, or could this country’s leader deliver one more cluster fuck before he leaves office? I’m riveted with anticipation.

Whilst this side of the pond is gripped with what I can only class as pure crap, half of Northern England has been under as much as 3 feet of water due to torrential rain for the last 4 days - if that ain’t the kind of news that sparks conversation and emotion, then I guess we should stick with this morning’s southbound FDR’s stuck traffic due to a shifted plate.

For fuck’s sake.

Wanted to share the Pedicab ride with you all - Mother’s Day, New York City, 2007.

Almost 3 weeks and nothing from the Brit Blogger. I feel like such a bloody loser. To say it’s been busy at the office is quite the understatement. Well, my Mum and Dad are ere in the U.S., coming to the end of a 12-day road trip. I got to spend Mother’s Day with her, which was very cool - I actually enjoyed spoiling the heck out of her.

Work is work - but my god is it going well… I’ve billed in more in 5 months than I did in the whole of 2006. 2007 is going to be a great year financially.

Love life is good - beyond good.

Memorial Day weekend this weekend, so 3 days off - can’t say I’m not happy…

To promote their latest shipping drive, the USPS have partnered with the Lucasfilm boys to bring us Star Wars themed stamps and what they’re calling “Jedi Shipping”. A Star Wars themed sweepstakes for a chance to win a trip for 4 to LA for a Star Wars IV celebration.

Anyway, the cool thing is that the USPS have transformed some mail boxes along the major streets in New York City into R2-D2 droids! This mailbox is right outside my office near the NewsCorp building.

Well it’s been a journey, I can tell you. I got my divorce decree in the mail today… and I have to admit, there’s a distinct sense of anti-climax.

All I can say is, what a trip it’s been since I came through Newark Airport’s security checkpoint for the first time in November 2001. What a trip.

Anyway, congratulations to me, time to move on.

I love New York.

New Yorker Wesley Autrey became a hero yesterday when he saved the life of Cameron Hollopeter, a student at the New York Film Academy. After Cameron fell from the subway platform at the southbound 1 train’s 137th Street/City College station, Wesley jumped into action and dived on top of the terrified teenager and pinned him down in the drainage trough between the tracks, as a 1 train came screaming into the station - thankfully the train driver saw what was happening and slammed on the emergency brakes, but not until 2 train cars had passed over the two, leaving only 2 inches to spare between them and the undercarriage of the train.

A true hero story - I love reading shit like this - this is the kind of story that inspires.

Talk about trippy. Every 30 minutes in Grand Central Station, the powers that be present a terrific light show known as the Kaleidoscope Show. Get your arse down to our beloved train haven and check out the most amazing light show imaginable - it’s a frigging trip. Stand in the middle, look up, and chill.

Four pints into a six-pint night at the Heartland Brewery on 51st and 6th Ave with a client, I walk outside for a cigarette break and bump shoulders with Elijah Wood, who’s on his way in. My first thought: “fucking hell he’s small.”

I came back in and rejoined my client over our frosty brews, and I was gestured in the general direction of a now eating Frodo sat behind us.

Baggins in the house… LOVE this kind of shit.

For the most part I feel I’ve been mentally conditioned to think that the people of New York City wouldn’t even piss on you if you caught fire, than lend a hand. A thought process substantiated and indeed strengthened by the copious amounts of selfish, self absorbed fucks that I see on the streets each day. So having said that, you can imagine how truly heart warming it was to see some random NYC patron assisting a blind guy across the busy 14th and 6th Ave intersection. I love seeing shit like that - it’s like the hand of God coming down and wiping the shit out of my eyes.

Sadly, I have no doubt that my shit-free vision is temporary.