Werk.

Gowanus basements FTW.

Boston by train.

New Deitch.

I don’t know if you’ve heard, but New York passed a pretty big law the other day.

Fun fact: this now doubles the amount of Americans living in states where gay marriage is legal.

In all, a nearly five hour ordeal with only one break for beverages. Great success. Great job, New York. Yeah, Pride!

Sidenote 1: This being my first NYC pride parade, I was expecting it to be heavy on the “let your freak-flag fly” types. Maybe you gotta really out there for me to qualify you as a freak, but I would say a large percentage of the crowd was “normal,” solidifying the point that there isn’t just one face for gay New Yorkers.

Sidenote 2: Huge church presence among the floats. A large chunk of which were United Methodist congregations. Made me proud of my heritage.

Friendswithyou

But we all knew that was how it would go.

This post is not to reminisce on New York, but to explain my drought in blog posts with a story.

I was robbed on my last night in New York City.

I left the house around 7 p.m., to take the subway downtown to Madison Square Park for some Shake Shack and last-night-in-NYC farewells.

It was a pleasant night with some really wonderful people. I made it back uptown to my apartment around 3 a.m.. I turned the lock on my door, pushed it open, then “Thud.”

The door wouldn’t open. My roommate had somehow left the chain on the door when he left for his evening of gallivanting.

Why would he do that? So I cursed his name and called him up to ask him.

He said he did no such thing.

It must have been the new tenant, I thought. She had stopped by the day before to measure the rooms. Maybe, she had started her move early and chained us out.

Remembering that the window was most likely open, I went back out and scaled the fence of the playground that borders our apartment. From inside the playground, I could see one of the windows on our first-floor apartment propped open with the familiar piece of wood.

Can you see where this is going? I still had no clue at this point.

So, still feeling agile and ninja-like, I climbed the fence from the playground to the side of our building, shimmied down and wiggled in through the window.

I unchained the door, cursed my silly roommate, then headed to my room.

Now, I have some of the best friends in the world and as I was out celebrating my last night, they were in the process of driving from Michigan through the night to move me out in the morning.

To be as prepared as possible, I had disassembled and packed everything I owned into a nice central pile, awaiting their arrival.

All that was left in my room was a mattress, a dresser and a desk.

I flipped on my bedroom light and noticed one of my duffel bag sitting precariously on my bed. Its contents were strewn out over the mattress.

My dresser drawers were pulled open. Weird. So were my desk drawers.

And where was my computer?

Yup, folks. I was the victim of a robbery.

All in all, they took:

- One 17-inch Macbook Pro
- Two hard drives containing all the media work I had done over the semester
- A point-and-shoot digital camera
- A flip camera
- iPod
- Every charger I owned, including ones to things they didn’t steal (like my cell phone)
- My favorite backpack, which contained my favorite chapstick

The insurance company estimated the thieves made off with $3800 in merch.

Obviously, it was really expensive chapstick.

Then, I had my first negative experience with the police. Apparently the NYPD doesn’t staff the night shift with the older, more considerate officers. They use the young guys, fresh out of the academy who just want to argue with you and dispute what you saw. Luckily, my roommate came home to drunkenly argue theories of robberies with them and allow me to wallow in self-pity, while officer A’s partner incorrectly took down my address, phone number and name.

I spent the rest of the night laying on the floor, watching the sun rise, because I was told not to touch “the crime scene.”

The evidence collection team, who was supposed to come at 6 a.m., arrived around noon, brushed the window sills, gave me a report and hit the road. To their credit, they couldn’t find me because they were given the wrong address. When they arrived, they were incredibly pleasant, almost negating the impression set by their comrades earlier in the morning.

So that’s my story. I got robbed. I didn’t have a computer for a month, thus no blogging.

But the moral of the story is that I have one now. And you know what it cost me? Nothing.

Well, $100 for the year of renter’s insurance. But, obviously that was worth it.

So, if you rent, call your insurance agent. $100 may seem like a lot of money. But $3800 is a lot more. It’s super cheap and if nothing happens, it will be the best $100 you ever wasted. Seriously, do it. I’m broke. I did it. It was obviously worth it. I used State Farm, so I’d recommend you start there.

Now, I’m back on the interwebs. I’ve got a month’s worth of posting to catch up on.

All this week, the hydrant has been gushing on my block. Today after my run, I jumped in. I checked “play in an open fire hydrant during a hot summer day” off my NYC to-do list.

Actually, hypotheticals aside, “Truth to Power” is my proudest moment from my time at Columbia.

My partner, Evan Wexler and I, were able to spend weeks with Danny Panzella (On the right in the picture) and Craig Fitzgerald (in yellow), two New Yorkers with a real passion for the truth. You see, while the rest of us spend our weekends relaxing, brunching and soaking up the sun, these guys spend every Saturday down at Ground Zero getting the word out about their beliefs regarding what really went down on 9/11 and how this kind of thing has been happening and will continue to happen in the United States. On top of that, you can find them at just about every rally, political event or social gathering of note in New York City ready to get the word out about the truth. In their words, they are the true Patriots. None of this Fox News-Glenn Beck-Tea Party stuff. These guys are the real deal. Call them conspiracy wackos or enlightened patriots, they really don’t care until everyone has heard their message.

So, without further ado, I present “Truth to Power.”

We produced this 22-min documentary as part of Duy Linh Tu’s Multimedia Storytelling class. It was, by far, the pinnacle of my time at Columbia. I think most of the people in the class would agree. After watching mine, I would highly suggest checking out the rest of the class’ videos here.

It’s official. I’m a Master.

Photo courtesy of Alex Berg.

My sister, Clare, is finishing up finals at Cornell, so they scrambled to figure out their camera phones to share the experience.

Figured it out.

Took this one for Grandma. Probably should have shaved … a month ago.

Then we headed off to Ellis Island. I would highly recommend a visit. It really puts a lot of things in perspective. We are a nation built entirely on immigrants.

After the fair, Fred and I rode up Riverside Avenue to see what The Cloisters was all about. The Cloisters is the branch of the Metropolitan Museum of Art dedicated to the art and architecture of the European Middle Ages. It’s in Fort Tryon Park near the northern tip of Manhattan on a hill overlooking the Hudson River.

It was closed. So we wandered around outside.

Fred was cold.

Great view of Harlem. Cool.

Bonus Shot: The Riverside Church of New York. 122nd and Riverside Ave. I snapped this on the ride back.