Back to School & No, We Don't Talk Like That!

I didn't want to stay out late on Friday night because I knew I had to wake up early the next day for my first day of class. My friends and I went to a two-leveled bar called Tonic, which is a sports bar with televisions panels in every direction you look. We quickly got over the crowded floor, but luckily, my friend's date had a car and took us to another bar called Katwalk, a restaurant/bar/lounge. We ended our night with Mamoun's Falafel, which is unfortunately not as tasty as the Halal Cart.

I woke up at 8am and walked from my friend's place to class. Since I'm in grad school, my building isn't situated by the main campus in The Village. Instead, it is located in Midtown in a building that has several floors that NYU rented out. The first class I had was Communications Ethics, Law, and Regulations, running from 9am to 3pm. The first day of class is usually comprised of an overview of the class, but the professor was able to include lecture time as well. My brain was still half asleep and wasn't ready to answer the philosophical questions pertaining to ethics and legality. Next time, I'm staying home on Fridays...Overall, the professor posed challenging questions and engaged the class in discussion, which kept me awake.

After class ended I went home to shower and then headed back into the city for a friend's birthday dinner at Sala, a delicious tapas restaurant. (I would go back there again but only if I had a huge group of people to sample all the plates.) Her sweet boyfriend surprised her with a birthday cake, consisting of lychee, mango and green tea ice cream, made by Chinatown Ice Cream Factory. Following the fat fest, we went to Dream Hotel's Ava Lounge, where I stared at the photographs of the naked women on the walls, and then to D'or, the neighboring underground bar. After one drink, I was literally falling asleep on the couch and decided that I had to go home to catch some z's. While walking from the subway to my apartment, a car stopped by me and the African American passenger started speaking what he thought was Chinese to me. Seriously people, go to school and learn that not all Asians are the same and while you're there, learn how to speak correct Chinese. I don't know why, but it's only the black people that always try to speak Chinese to me. I wouldn't be surprised if they asked me to teach them kung fu. I started walking faster and the car kept following me. A bit scared and pretty pissed that he demeaning my Asian-ness, I screamed, "Go away!" and they drove off.