Fung Wah

My sister came to visit this weekend. We had a marvelous time. I'd forgotten just how lovely it is to have close girl friends in your proximity. I guess I successfully managed to forget how much I miss her. It was great to see her, but incredibly sad to see her go.

She arrived late on Friday night due to stupid weather. We opted not to go out and instead sat up late catching up (my sister is even worse than me at the phone, which is hard to believe!) and drinking bad wine and eating good cheese and strawberries.

On Saturday we went for breakfast at Relish, where I had amazing onion rings. Hmmmm. We then walked aimlessly around Williamsburg (I'd hoped to cross one of the movies off my list of Seven-Movies-To-See-Before-Thansgiving but by the time we motivated to get out of the house there was no way we could fit one in) and then around the Village, where, drum roll please, I acquired purple pants! They were far too expensive and don't actually fit, but they require only a hem so there is hope!

We then ate dinner at the vegetarian restaurant in Williamsburg. Why is vegetarian food always so dry? I don't understand. We went back to the loft feeling bloated and tired, but managed to rally to go to a show with Roommate and her friend L in SoHo. Roommate has been so excited for this show and was therefore devastated when we arrived to the 8:00 show at 8:30 to find out that the box office closed at 8.

When does that ever happen? Since when do shows start on time? Like we got there and the show was going on and there wasn't even a door! We had to press a buzzer and we were like "We're here for the show?" and they were like "The Box Office Is Closed." It was all very Wizard of Oz. Then a dude appeared and said very zen-ly "Why didn't you get here at 7:30?" Why ever would we have done that? We ended up grabbing a few drinks at some lame place in the East Village, where my sister and I felt like imposters. I felt really really really lonely.

We journeyed back to Williamsburg where we met up with some of Roommate's friends and a friend of mine from work, D, and his friends. Some weird kid approached my sister and I the second we were alone and said "What do you guys do?" and then "Are you guys Jewish?" and "How do you know each other?" We told him we were both 25% Sicilian and from the same area but still he had no idea we were sisters. I admired his courage, though, and have to admit it was cute when he yelled across the bar to his friend "We have two Italians here!"

My friend D, his friends, my sister and I then went back to the loft to chill, drink some water, eat some sesame sticks, decompress. We tried then to meet up with Roommate et. al. at a party at our realtor's loft. Now. I am not a big fan of the realtor. In fact, I just don't like him. I don't like him because he is smarmy and exudes desparation and is a lovesick puppy towards Roommate. He thinks he is ultra cool and he is not.

Roommate told us she'd meet us but didn't appear for a while. I didn't want to go to the party without her because clearly I know the realtor and clearly he did not invite me. That's crashing. That's not cool. Our hatred for each other is mutual. We waited in the lobby of his building for a long time, while everyone except me became increasingly frustrated. Finally Roommate appeared, and we all walked up to the third floor.

There, we were asked to remove our shoes. There were hundreds of shoes in the hallway. There was a dude there who was paid to watch our shoes. Ridiculous. Realtor thinks he's so cool. We removed our shoes after throwing many fits, and then walked into the party where a dude checked our coats for us. Also ridiculous. Realtor's loft is fanastic - its called The Green Room and has green stained hardwood floors and amazing lighting and furniture and atmosphere. He'd hired three DJ's. There was a disco ball and lighting and fog. It was a rave inside. Realtor was wearing black silk pajamas and being ultra-smarmy and ultra-desperate. He has an 8x10 shag rug in his apartment and sitting on it were about 20 catatonic drugged-out hipsters doing nothing but looking angsty and tired. The party was awful, but worth the stories.

Yesterday we slept in too late again and went for breakfast and then did nothing all day but discuss what sort of guinea pig my sister should get.

Last night she was slated to take the Fung Wah bus out of New York. Last time she tried to do this, she missed the one she was scheduled for and had to take one an hour later, which was late, so it was a fiasco. This time she swore getting there half an hour early would solve all of the problems.

We got there 15 minutes early, but there were, no joke, at least 300 people waiting in line for the next bus. And no bus came. And when no bus came, I said "When is the bus coming?" and nobody knew. I said "All of these people are holding tickets - so there will be more than one bus?" and they said "No" and I said "What are they to do?" and they said "They will all get on the bus."

I said "Yes, but, they all have tickets for the 6:00 bus and there's only one bus."

They said "No, 7:00."

I said, "No, 6:00."

"6:30!!!!"

"OK, well, its 6:30 and the 6:00 bus hasn't come nor has the 6:30, so when do you suppose these buses are coming?"

"6:00!"

"No, no, see, these people all have tickets for the same bus that was supposed to come half an hour ago and we're just wondering what you intend to do."

"Just wait in line..."

"NO! But see, we're just wondering if they should make other plans to get home, because this is freaking ridiculous."

"I'll find you in line..."

"No, but really, like, is the bus actually coming at all?"

"Don't know. Ask the window."

I went to the window and said "Listen, when is the 6:00 bus going to get here?"

"How should I know?"

I nearly lost my mind.

This all took place over 45 minutes in the freezing cold in a line of 300 irritable, anxious, teeth-chattering people.

I just don't understand how they can't be communicating with the buses. Like really. How hard could that possibly be?!?!? And I don't understand why they refuse to give out any information. At least at Peter Pan, when they oversell a bus, they tell you and try to keep you calm and explain to you your options. Fung Wah apparently oversells their buses 3-fold and then expects nobody to care. Why can't they just be honest?

After trying to deal with these people I found my sitser in line and found that a group of Bostonians around her had been calling other methods of transporations, and there were no flights or Peter Pan buses that weren't sold out. I felt their pain. They decided to take the Acela, but too late. They said "We will take the 7:00!" and I said "No you won't, there's no way you're going to make it." They said "But we will take a cab!" and I said "No way. Not going to make it. Traffic."

I have so much expertise now in the public transit woes of the New York/Boston commute.

My sister jumped in a cab with three other people from Boston and they went to Penn Station without getting a refund from fucking Fung Wah.

At 7:45 she called to say she'd be taking the 8:00.

At 9:00 she called to say that the 8:00 had been delayed indefinitely in Newark due to mechanical problems.

At 9:30 she called to say she was on the train and that she'd be getting to Boston at 1:30. She said they'd joked with the cab driver who offered to take them to Boston for $400. They should have just done that.

In response to my text message "Did you get home ok?" this morning, my sister sent the following message:

3:30.

Fuck.

I feel awful. But mostly because I am afraid this experience will deter her from ever coming to NYC again.

So, dear readers, when you come to visit, do not take the Fung Wah. You get what you pay for.

I haven't done a minute of work today. Mondays suck.