Waiting to Get There. Usually on the A/C/E in Chelsea, New York City.

Milk Oolong tea is like a magic trick. It comes in the form of little pellets. Milk Oolong Magic But when you put the pellets in hot water, they bloom into full-on leaves. Like big leaves. Like I always put too many pellets in my tea cup and wind up with a swamp of half-furled leaves. The tea earned its nom de plume because it supposedly tastes milky or buttery. I'm not sure about that, but it does have a unique flavor. I like tea with a unique flavor. Life gets boring otherwise. I first encountered the Milk Oolong at Bosie Tea Parlor , back when it was on Morton Street. I had popped in one day and miraculously, the place was not mobbed. One of the people who worked there had 30 seconds to help me pick something new out of the tea catalog. I'm conflicted about Bosie Tea Parlor's to-go service if you must know. On the one hand, it's kind of nice to enter a parlor of tea. I love tea and I love a parlor, so the whole idea appeals. But here's the thing: it...

When we dropped off the Subaru off at the airport parking lot, I heard the one valet mutter to the other valet, “Stick shift.”  The vehicle remained in the drop off area the whole time we waited for our ride to the airport. I watched it, motionless in the same exact spot, from my seat in the shuttle as we drove away. This reminded me of that one time at the Tabor Tavern on Route 10. They have valet parking. As I got out of the car, I said to the valet kid, “Do you know how to drive a stick?” He smoothly replied, “I don’t, but the other guy does.” I nodded. Three hours later, I came out of the restaurant and handed the valet my ticket. “Oh yes,” he says. “Your car is right here.” With a flourish, he points to the Subaru. It's about 8 feet from where I’d pulled it in. He hands me the keys and lets me take it from there. 

We were walking up Allen Street in the LES, Wanda, Derek, Tom and I. Suddenly (cue symphonic audio clip) I spied Bon Bon , the Swedish candy store. The thing with Bon Bon is that I don't actually know where it is. I just go in every time I walk by. It is difficult to resist the allure of salted licorice. Seriously. So we enter the establishment. There's one definite thing I like about Bon Bon compared to its arch rival candy shop Sockerbit in the Village: Actual Swedes work at Bon Bon.  Meanwhile, Sockerbit is staffed by what appears to be an endless stream of college kids from like Cleveland. It's cognitive dissonance to the max and kind of a let down. I like to order my Swedish candy in Swedish. It's weird to know more about the candy on offer than the cashier. Like how to pronounce it. Anyway, when we go in, fantastic news. A Swede is behind the counter at Bon Bon. He's like 23 with all the vestments of a hipster. He immediately starts messing...