Category Archives: Albany

“I wonder if I’ve been changed in the night. Let me think. Was I the same when I got up this morning? I almost think I can remember feeling a little different. But if I’m not the same, the next question is ‘Who in the world am I?’ Ah, that’s the great puzzle!”  ― Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland

The season of Pride is once again upon us, and one of the more exciting events (in my fanciful estimation) is the only official formal event of the Albany Pride season – the GLSEN Alice in Wonderland Gala. An evening for supporting the Gay Lesbian & Straight Education Network of the New York Capital Region, this event is always one of sparkle and glamour, arriving on the eve of the actual Pride Celebration & Parade.

I love a party, especially a somewhat formal party where there’s a theme and a reason to get dressed up. This year that theme is the very-fertile ‘Alice in Wonderland’ which poses its own challenges and possibilities. Though Lewis Carroll (the troubling writer of the books) comes with his own set of questionable baggage, the works themselves are collections of imaginative whimsy – and the recent movie versions offer their own wonder and spectacle (and some of the most exquisite costuming I’ve seen of late). To that end, this theme is the perfect opportunity for sartorial excess and over-the-top frills. Mad-hatters and bow-tied, waist-coated bunnies are all welcome, and this Cheshire cat will be grinning ear-to-ear in some splendiferous ensemble that is as ridiculous to create as it will be to wear.

The party is scheduled for 6-8 PM on Friday, June 10, 2016 at the recently-renovated Renaissance Hotel (a world of enchantment itself) in downtown Albany. You may get your tickets at this link, and if you can’t make it perhaps you’d consider donating to such a great cause. Here’s a bit of background on the organization and all that they work to accomplish:

Since 1990, GLSEN has led the way on LGBT issues in K-12 education. Through pioneering research, program development and advocacy, GLSEN has made the case for the urgency and importance of these issues, and identified effective school-based solutions. Today, GLSEN remains at the vanguard of the “Safe Schools Movement,” many thanks to the active partnerships with the largest national organizations in elementary/secondary education, youth development and youth service, civil and human rights. The GLSEN-led National Safe Schools Partnership, for example, now includes more than 90 member organizations, and within the past year, each of GLSEN’s bullying-prevention strategies has been endorsed by a federal agency as a best practice in education or youth development. UNESCO has asked GLSEN to assist with the exchange of knowledge and best practice with NGOs and education ministries worldwide.

GLSEN is now focused on leveraging our access and assets to ensure that K-12 education continues to advance on LGBT issues: becoming fully inclusive of transgender students; addressing the multiple challenges confronting LGBT students of color; adopting GLSEN’s proven model policies and programs on a broader scale; and contributing to an emerging international dialogue on LGBT human rights issues and educational access for all children. To do this, we partner with and engage all education stakeholders, most particularly the students who experience our schools every day and are in the best position to help change them.

Your support helps make GLSEN the most transformational organizations of its kind, addressing important school safety issues that have relevance to every member of today’s school communities.  Together we are creating climates and attitudes of respect that will resonate across generations.

Given his background as a police officer, one who had been called on many a time to rescue bus drivers from difficult situations (fights, disputes, traffic infractions, etc.) my husband Andy knows and notices things that someone largely unconcerned with the laws (me) would ignore. Such as the way in which the CDTA buses in downtown Albany routinely refuse to pull into their bus stops, even if they are free and clear of cars. (The ‘No Parking’ signs and the tickets instantly issued to those cars that are in the way usually ensure that there is no one there.) Yet that doesn’t prevent the buses from stopping in the middle of the street instead of pulling over.

This creates a back-up of traffic, particularly at rush hour times, that goes against the very purpose of having a bus-stop. I don’t know whether it’s the hurry to meet schedule demands (as Andy believes), or laziness in not wanting to have to re-enter traffic, but they repeatedly stop in the middle of the street instead of pulling over to let their passengers on and off. That’s not the point of this rant, however. Something much more illegal went down on this morning of March 31, 2016 at about 7:30 AM.

We were pulling up to the intersection of Broadway and Orange, about to take a left onto Orange, and we had a Green light and a green arrow. Andy was in the middle of making the turn when a CDTA Supervisor’s car, License plate AJ9129, sped through a red light, and almost ran right into my passenger side. Andy came to an abrupt stop so as to avoid the collision, and at the last minute the driver stopped so he wouldn’t hit us. Now, I realize you can turn right on red, however you have to stop first, and you do not have the right of way when the oncoming traffic is turning in front of you because they have a green arrow to go. The driver then gave us a dirty look as if we were to blame for his speeding through a red light and almost hitting us. That’s the part that bothered me most.

Luckily, I got dropped off for work a few feet later and watched as the CDTA Supervisor coasted into the bus lot, after which I wrote down the license plate number in the event that CDTA tried to snow us with not being able to identify which vehicle had almost caused an accident. Seeing as how they’ve never responded to any of my Tweets about such antics, or any of Andy’s videos documenting the bus-stop issue, I’m not holding my breath for a response. I just want to start my own record of what they do, as it will no doubt happen again.

While I’m obviously disgruntled with the dangerous actions of the CDTA supervisor that blew through a red light and almost hit us (hey, I was the passenger who would have gotten the brunt of the smash) I’m more dismayed by the operation of the CDTA. Having lived in Albany for the past sixteen years, and having worked downtown for the last ten, I’ve had the privilege of seeing our city grow and evolve, including the infrastructure and public transport that form the heart of any city. When things like this happen, and more importantly when they go unaddressed, it’s a detriment to everyone.

(PS – This is nothing compared to what I hear from people who actually ride the buses.)

A petunia, pink and true, peeked out from the sidewalk and arrested me in my tracks. I backed up a few steps, stalling my Monday morning stroll from Starbucks to the office, and paused in its pink glory. It seemed to peer up and over the little sidewalk crack where its roots made their home. A hidden anchor that had protected its existence up until now. The early morning sun lit it from behind, throwing a shadow longer than the bloom itself, and illuminating its bright cream throat.

It was not a perfect bloom. How could it be, in such circumstances and harsh surroundings? Slightly tattered, spotted in pale splashes of something, and smaller than its more carefully-cultivated cousins, it would not win any flower show awards. Yet there was magnificence to it. Valiantly blooming in a well-tread spot that could have trampled less-resilient beauties, it held its colorful head as high as it could, and in a sea of concrete it was the one object that caught my attention and admiration. For such a tiny thing, it packed a powerful visual punch, aided by the sun and perhaps its non-descript background.

On a Monday morning, when downtown Albany was under siege by fumes of horse dung and college-kid vomit, made more unbearable by the heat and humidity already in effect before 8 AM, this little petunia was a bright spot of color. Of imperfect beauty and flawed nobility. It shouted “Look at me!” then tugged at the heart.

Hopefully nobody steps or urinates on it.

Some days I just feel like Albany is fucking with me. It’s like someone is playing some big cosmic joke, baiting me with nonsense like this that seems so far removed from what a reasonable person would do to themselves that it can’t possibly be true. When did bad ponytails become de rigueur for downtown Albany? No one will ever mistake us for Downton Abbey if this look continues (ok, and even if it doesn’t.)

These aren’t even bad ponytails, they’re horrendous. Atrocious. Vile. And please note that I’m not judging anything other than the hair these folks have decided to fashion atop their heads in this manner. We have less control over body-type and what will fit on us, but there is never an excuse for hair like this. Why would anyone with a mirror, or mirror-like substance (take out a piece of foil for God’s sake!) do something so ghastly to themselves? I just don’t understand it. I’m all for making your own mark on the world, so I shouldn’t judge. But I am. Because this is a choice, a very poor choice, and it could have been averted.

Now I have to walk around with a pair of scissors and hope no one gets offended when I offer it to them. Like I have nothing better to do on my lunch break. Unbelievable.

It struck me as I finally received some impeccable service at Starbucks that whenever I post about customer service experiences here in this blog, they’re usually complaints. That’s not fair, nor is it an accurate representation of the average service one gets. (Even if what gets reported here did actually happen.) However, in the name of the positivity of the Spice Girls, here is a post of a celebratory nature, one that extols the virtues of a particular Starbucks employee who always makes my day a little brighter.

I’ve gone to the Starbucks on the end of Wolf Road (airport side) a number of times. It’s the closest one to my home (aside from the atrocious pseudo-Starbucks run by the more-atrocious Price Chopper). Yes, there’s a crazy woman who works there and who once asked what size I wanted after I ordered a grande decaf (umm, grande?), but she’s otherwise benign. I keep coming back at the risk of encountering her for the possibility of getting served by her co-worker, a seriously kick-ass barista named Laura.

Laura always perks me up with her effervescent spirit, and she treats each customer as if they’re the most important person in her world. On days when I’m weary of humanity, when I’m less than thrilled with my life – and we all have those days – I am buoyed by her infectious energy and indefatigable spirit. That kind of care isn’t easily faked, and the enthusiasm and passion required to put it over is real and genuine, and always appreciated by this customer. She calls everyone “darling” and it’s not cloying or fake, and she has a knack for patience and friendliness that deserves mention and admiration. I’ll cc the powers-that-be at Starbucks on this one, because sometimes the good things are just as important as the bad. In fact, they’re more important. Thank you, Laura, for reminding me of how decent customer service, and simple human kindness, can make all the difference.

If you know the owner of this blue truck, please inform him that he is a total dick-wad/douche-bag. I had just pulled into the Price Chopper parking lot and was about to start walking towards the entrance when this truck recklessly pulled into the first handicapped spot. Aside from the fact that he almost hit me while I was on foot, he also did not have a handicapped tag hanger in his truck, nor any indication of such on the license plate. Instead, he hopped out of the driver’s seat in a pair of ratty flip lops, and jauntily strode into the store.

I almost said something, but he was sporting an almost-mullet, and I’m scared that anyone with a mullet doesn’t have the sense to deal with people in a reasonable manner. Instead, I watched, figuring maybe he was just in a massive hurry and needed to get something quickly. He grabbed a push cart and began his shopping, at which point I let it go.

As I came out after getting my few items, he was apparently still shopping, so the quick pick-up theory was out the window. I took these pics of his offending (and offensive) dilapidated vehicle, when an older woman hobbled out of her car, which did have a handicapped hanger in it. She saw me taking photos and asked if it was because he didn’t have a hanger. I said yes. She clutched the cart to keep herself upright and said she’d vouch for me if I needed her to. I smiled – I wasn’t filing a report or anything, I told her, I was just going to broadcast it to thousands of people. Public shaming usually goes further than a paltry Price Chopper police report.

“Oh, I don’t know how that Twitter and stuff works, but I’ll vouch for you if you need it,” she repeated. I said it wasn’t necessary, and bade her good day. She pushed her cart past the ugly truck and into the store.

Scene: Price Chopper Store #188 – Shaker Road – Loudonville

It was 8 AM and I was in a rush to get to work. In my hand was a bouquet of flowers that I figured wouldn’t take more than two minutes to select and purchase. I foolishly assumed that the market would have enough registers open to get those of us en route to work in and out within a reasonable time frame. Of course, as I eyed the registers, there were only two open, and no one was even at the express lane. Five or six workers scuttled about the customer service space near the registers, so I caught the eye of the oldest woman there and asked if the express line was open (since it was, after all, lit). She said no, it wasn’t at that moment. I hurried to the only other open register, where a woman stood waiting for a manager to stop by.

She was wrangling with coupons. Lots of coupons. One of which was ringing up incorrectly and not giving “triple points” or some other nonsense. The manager haplessly scanned and rescanned and nothing worked. At this point I was just as mad at the miserly coupon lady as I was at the incompetent scanners. But, remembering my own five year stint of retail, I took a deep breath and re-ordered priorities. Five minutes later and no resolution in sight, the woman who had initially refused to take me in the open express lane had been forced to open up, but by then there were too many people for me to fight past to get in that line. Finally it was my turn and I was in no mood for small talk.

When the cashier asked me how I was, I replied, “I’m going to be late.”

She sensed my tone but instead of letting it go she decided to challenge me. “Why is that?” she asked.

“Umm, because this transaction took a lot longer than expected,” I replied.

“Well, you’re in a grocery store,” she shot back with just the slightest edge to her voice.

Oh no.

No, no, no.

Your line is, “I’m sorry for the delay.”

Blaming poor, and slow, service on the fact that it’s a grocery store is like blaming a match for being flammable.

I think she caught my look, because before I could say anything else she complimented me on my vest. Twice.

I thanked her and left, but it left me with the same sour taste that Price Chopper has been leaving in my mouth since we moved here.

Andy has been waging a mini-war with this particular Price Chopper store for years, finally starting to call them out on their exorbitant prices and actively comparing (with photos) their items with those of Hannaford. Price Chopper is almost always more expensive. I’ve had my own issues with this location – a leaky roof that was dripping onto their own products got a shrug from a manager on-duty one night I was there, while their Starbucks idiocy ended up with the parent company sending me a bunch of free drink tickets, but I’ve given up fighting back in person. Far better to put it down for posterity here, until someone sees the post and service improves. Thus far, that’s proven a futile effort, but it’s better to get it off my chest that take it out on their staff, no matter how much they claimed to like my vest.

For this year’s Gay Soiree, I had the privilege of watching Jeze Bel shine in this glorious Glinda get-up, while I stepped out in a houndstooth suit, corset, and ridiculously-heeled boots. All in all, it was a hoot and a half, and a badly-needed dose of glamour and fun in this never-ending winter.

I switched it up from the black lace underwear I wore to last year’s event to something much warmer, seeing as how I froze my lacy ass off that first time around. Wool is a much better choice for a chilly evening in early March. As for the venue, it was in one of those hidden jewels of downtown Albany – in a space that I believe had once been a bank (as so many gorgeous buildings once were). Thanks to the atmosphere and the Wizard of Oz theme, it was a magical night that felt like stepping into a Technicolor fun-house. I’m already looking forward to next year’s event.

“I’m sorry, but this is not a democracy.” ~ Madonna

In spite of those words, and the utterly-false promise of the post title, I’m still gunning to place on this year’s Metroland Readers’ Poll 2015. If you live in the Albany area, stop by and click on their Readers’ Poll section and give the voting a whirl. (If I had my wish, I’d be up for Best Local Blog for www.ALANILAGAN.com…hint, hint, oh-so-heavy hint.) An incentive: you need to see the acceptance speech I have planned in the unlikely event I make it to the top. Let’s just say it will have to be done via video. Yeah, it’s that precious.

In all seriousness, this is your chance to let the local small businesses shine, and excise the chain gangs once and for all (well, at least on a readers’ poll). It’s always disheartening to see something like D’Raymond’s get trounced by an atrocity like The Olive Garden, but that’s the problem when you put taste into the hands of the masses. I’m an acquired one, so I’m pretty sure I don’t stand a chance, but there are businesses and people who really deserve this, so click away and let your voice be heard.

(Minor side-note anecdote: I contributed one article to Metroland, over a decade ago. It was for their Sex issue that year, and it was a lament on how clean and sterile gay sex had gotten. They made me take out one line, and it happened to be my favorite line of the whole piece: “I want shit on the condom.” Out of context it doesn’t work as well, but damn it feels good to finally say it.)

“And if you don’t vote, you’re gonna get a spanky. Cut.” ~ Madonna

When the barista at Starbucks gets to the point where she says, “You’re going to shoot me,” it’s a clear indication that something has gone tragically wrong with an order. Having just expounded upon last week’s incident at the Starbucks located in the nearby Price Chopper, I decided to give them another chance a week later. I guess it was too soon.

Deciding that perhaps I had been too harsh in my hasty first-world-problems as outlined in earlier posts, I decided to give the company a more devoted try, putting another $25 on my Starbucks card just last night. I got in touch with a friend at work and asked if she wanted anything, so I went into the store and ordered her drink (an iced Venti pumpkin latte) and a decaf Salted Caramel frappuccino for myself (in the hopes that the salt and caramel had arrived).

The issue this time wasn’t the ingredients, but the decaf. Apparently Starbucks doesn’t have decaf frappuccinos. Which was strange, considering all the ones I’ve ordered in the last three years. I don’t care one way or another, I’d order a simple decaf coffee, but someone in Starbucks is wrong somewhere here, and they really need to straighten that out. I then asked for an iced decaf, which they said they couldn’t do. Exasperated, but still trying to be kind, I asked what sort of decaf drink they might be able to make. A hot decaf drip was it. So I said that would work.

As they finished making the drinks, the server recited the opening lines of this post: “You’re going to shoot me.” I had just produced my newly reloaded Starbucks card and she eyed it wearily. “The register isn’t accepting Starbucks cards.”

Of course it isn’t! Why would the registers be working when the store has been open for well over a week? That would be like having iced decaf on hand at a Starbucks! I told them I didn’t have any cash, but there’s money on the card, basically waiting for them to make some sort of offer. I told them my boss would be very upset if I didn’t bring in her drink. The manager then came over and said since they had already made them I could have them for free, provided that I agree “in good faith” to come back again. (Her words.)

“Yes. Absolutely,” I said.

(As soon as they have decaf coffee and accept Starbucks cards.)