An open letter to my fellow subway riders

The New York City government recently took a drastic step and decided to legislate something that many citizens lack: Common sense.

According to the New York Times, the city will soon start fining people whose cell phone goes off in a theater, those whose car alarms go off for more than three minutes, and my favorite, the selfish subway riders who put their feet up and take more than one seat.

Now I'm not entirely comfortable with the idea of legislating manners. In fact, I'm not comfortable with it at all. So instead, I think I'll just write a friendly letter to the patrons whom I share the Baltimore subway with on a daily basis.

Hey subway people,

It's me -- you know, the girl that keeps her head buried in a book or newspaper at all times and tries to pretend she's not on the subway? Oh, come on... you know me. I'm the one who showers every single day and doesn't have one of those annoying Nextel phones that alternates beeping and static. That has to narrow it down to three or four people. Still not sure? I always wear headphones when I'm listening to music. Oh, and I'd be the one who has never elbowed an elderly person out of the way in an attempt to grab one of the seats reserved for the handicapped.

Anyway, I just wanted to make a few suggestions on how to make the daily subway ride a little more pleasant for those around you. The first topic I would like to discuss is hygiene.

While I certainly encourage good hygiene, and heaven knows several of you have a long way to go, the subway isn't really the place for your primping. Now I'm okay with an occasional make-up check or running a brush through your hair, but I'd really appreciate it if you'd save your nail clipping for later. It's one of those things you really shouldn't do in public. The same goes for those of you who like to apply or remove nail polish on the train. The smell is, well, nauseating at best. An unventilated train isn't the best place for your manicure.

The next set of people I'd like to address are the seat hogs. These come in a few different forms. There are the ones who get on when the train is empty and spread out across two seats but then don't adjust when the train soon becomes crowded. I don't care if you spread out when there's no one else around, but when people are falling over one another and packed in like sardines, it wouldn't hurt for you to move your leg.

Similarly, if you're an able-bodied person, it would be nice if you would offer your seat to someone who isn't quite as lucky. That means when you see someone get on who might be elderly, uses a cane, or for some other reason, may need a seat that day, you can stand up and see if they might want to sit down. They may say no so you may get off easy. And if you're in the seats reserved for the elderly/handicapped, just move your ass please.

I also have a special message to the five young gentleman on the subway yesterday afternoon who thought it was a riot to pry the doors open while the subway was in motion. Do you really have that much confidence in the construction and maintenance of the Baltimore subway system? If so, you're far more optimistic than I am. You know the same people who can't keep the escalators running for more than 13 minutes at a time? They're the same ones working on the trains. If you want to be sucked out of a moving subway car that's fine, but please wait until I get off. I'd rather read about it in tomorrow's paper.

Well guys, I don't want this to run too long because I know you're eager to get off and smoke that cigarette, but if you could wait until you actually leave the train station before lighting up, those of us who don't enjoy a face full of smoke on the escalator would be forever grateful.

Actually, now that we're talking escalators, I do need to add a few more things. I'm thinking that whole walk-left/stand-right thing really may need to be legislated because for some reason, some of you just aren't getting it. And you're the same people who get annoyed when someone says "excuse me" and tries to squeeze past you.

Another escalator-related issue comes when a train arrives and everyone tries to get on the escalator immediately. Perfectly understandable, considering we're all in a hurry these days. But did you notice that line of people waiting patiently to board? Just out of curiosity, why is it that they should wait in line while you just push your way in? I'm sure you have someplace to be but I was just thinking that if you're that important, you might be an interesting person to talk to on one of our daily treks.

Well, that's it for now. I know this ran a little long but hey, with all the train delays, you should have plenty of time for reading!

Thanks everybody, and I'll see you on the subway!

Politely yours,
AlisaBS

The Lady Terps, aka "Overtime is our time"

I have to admit it. I was happy to wake up this morning to reports of small-scale rioting and fires in College Park. I was actually hoping the students at the University of Maryland would show some support, even drunken revelry, for their national champion Lady Terps.

Now I don't typically advocate this sort of thing, but I think it's important for the school to show its excitement as it would had the men's basketball team won.

It takes a lot for me to sit through more than a few minutes of a basketball game but last night's NCAA Women's Basketball championship game between Duke and Maryland kept me riveted. Usually I'm of the belief that a basketball game should last no more than five minutes because it's only the last few minutes that make a difference in most games. Last night's overtime win over the Blue Devils showed that. Of course the Lady Terps also came from 13 points behind earlier in the game so my theory might be somewhat flawed.

(As a side note, I'm also of the belief that basketball should only be played by short people. If you're 6 foot something, you should be a good basketball player. You should be able to dunk. I want to see people my height playing the game, a la Muggsy Bogues. Midget basketball is good basketball.)

But back to the Lady Terps who deserve today's focus. They played a great game, coming from behind to force the game into overtime. They looked thoroughly excited to have won and they should. Not only did they make it to the NCAA tournament, which their counterparts on the men's team could not do, they tore through the bracket and beat Duke. Every victory is sweeter when it's against Duke.

So celebrate your win today ladies, but please, whatever you do, don't turn into arrogant players like the men's team has. You're better than that.

Who I am, according to Baltimore Magazine

I need a really expensive house and a bunch of plastic surgery. Baltimore Magazine told me so.

Okay, so technically that's what Baltimore Magazine's advertisers are telling me, but you get the point.

I'm pretty sure I fall into the 99-year-old magazine's intended demographics. I'm a married, late 20-something professional, who dines out regularly, goes to the theater, and, in theory (only in theory, I might add), I have disposable income because I'm childless. Now I don't live within the city limits, but I think Baltimore Magazine still hopes to attract suburbanites like myself. With all of the lavish houses out in the Valley advertised for sale at a mere $7 million, apparently county or country living isn't all bad.

It's actually quite interesting to flip through an issue of the magazine and learn just who it is that's supposed to be living in Baltimore. I have to be honest: When I think of Baltimore, ritzy socialites don't come to mind. I picture a high murder rate. I picture an out-of-control drug culture, filled with violence, absentee parents, and illiteracy. I picture the Baltimore I see on the subway everyday.

While I do acknowledge the success of some revitalization efforts, you're still not going to see me walking around the outside of the Hippodrome at night. I ride the subway everyday to and from work and I can tell you that Baltimore is not as high-brow, upper-crust, and hoity-toity as advertisers may want to believe.

But Baltimore Magazine thinks that's the real Baltimore, or at least its readership. According to its website, "Baltimore magazine readers are educated, affluent professionals with an average investment portfolio worth almost $200,000. They use credit cards almost twice as often as the national average. Eight out of ten readers read every issue and nine out of ten use the magazine to make buying decisions."

Of course I'm in no position to tell the advertisers what does and doesn't work. Obviously they're seeing some sort of return if they continue to run high-priced ads in the glossy monthly. Someone out there must be reading it and agree that, yes, cosmetic dentistry is a must, and I really do need to trade in that 05 Mercedes/Lexus/Hummer/Bentley for a newer model.

I don't begrudge those who can spend with reckless abandon. I simply doubt they're as prevalent as the magazine indicates. Is there a small sub-culture of the cultured (and filthy rich) living among us that I just don't know about? If so, where do I sign up? I'm ready for my $148 umbrella that's pictured on page 94 of the April issue. The broken ones littering the streets of downtown on rainy days just bring me down.

Beware the Terps of March

It's a rough time for Maryland basketball fans. It's gotten so that rioting and setting fires just isn't fun anymore.

Just a few short years ago Terps fans watched as their team, led by the likes of Juan Dixon and Steve Blake, plowed through the big dance and emerged victorious.

Oh how the snotty have fallen.

As if a lackluster season wasn't bad enough, Maryland's men's basketball team apparently felt the need to make sure they went out on an equally sour note, losing to Manhattan in the first round of the NIT.

Originally Coach Gary Williams said his team didn't want to play in the NIT. Well guess what, Gary. It showed.

Senior forward Nik Caner-Medley summed up the team's feelings by saying they just weren't into it.

"This whole year is embarrassing," Caner-Medley told The Baltimore Sun following the game. "Not making the NCAA tournament is embarrassing. Obviously we wanted to be in the NCAA tournament, and I think we probably would've played better if we were [there]."

I feel for you, Nik. I really do. You see I can only pretend to know what you must be going through. You've had nearly four years of a free college education now and all you'll have to show for it is a degree a lot of national exposure. That must be tough. I, on the other hand, have nearly $50,000 in student loans to show for my education.

I guess when it comes to spoiled demagogues like Caner-Medley, it takes more exciting things to get hyped up... exciting things like his July 2004 arrest for disorderly conduct following a drunken brawl.

Then there's senior Chris McCray, the player deemed academically ineligible in January when his GPA fell below a 2.0. (Incidentally, McCray officially withdrew from classes just a few days ago, obviously crippled by the concept that some professors expected him to attend class every once in a while.) His parents must be so proud. Afterall, this comes on the heels of his August 2005 arrest in College Park after refusing to leave the scene of a fight.

Okay, so let's see what we have here. There's a coach who makes millions of dollars a year who feels that playing in anything other than the NCAA tourney is beneath him. Then there's a few holier-than-thou college athletes who have been given a free ride yet can't seem to appreciate it. Oh, and let's not forget the multi-million dollar state-of-the-art Comcast Center where the pampered players can work and play.

Gosh, how could things have gone so wrong? Something tells me the results might have been a bit better if all that money and attention went into the school's academics instead of thuggery training. Of course the parties after a mock trial competition just aren't as cool.

Circus, Circus, and yes, Circus

It's probably bad for my image to admit this but I will anyway: My husband and I are circus geeks. Most people would find it more than adequate to go to the circus once a year. Not us. Once again, we'll be attending the Ringling Brothers circus three times this year.

Before you scoff, you have to understand something: There's not just one circus. There are actually three Ringling Brothers Circuses (Circi?) currently traveling the country. There's the Red Tour (which stars Bello, the best clown ever), the Gold Tour, and the all new Blue Tour.

This year we will attend two performances of the Red Tour (one in Baltimore and one in D.C.) and then finish out the circus season with the all new Blue Tour in Hershey, Pa. (For the past two years we've traveled to New York for our third show.)

I'm particularly excited to see the all new Blue Tour this year which promises to revolutionize the circus-going experience. No more three ring circus, they say. Instead, it's supposed to be more Cirque de Soleil and less cirque de kids screaming.

Of course I'm also looking forward to the two Blue Tour performances where Bello is the star. He's not just a clown, you see. He's an acrobat, athlete, and death-defying stunt performer. Take that stupid French clown David Larible. (In the interest of full disclosure, Larible is technically Italian, but you have to admit that "stupid French clown" sounds much better.)

But it's not all about the clowns. The other performers and all of the amazing animals quite a treat. Rich loves Crazy Wilson and the wheel of death. I love the way the elephants all line up and take the tail of the one in front of them. And please, you can't not get a rush when you see Mark Oliver Gebel, son of the famed lion tamer Gunther Gebel Williams, work with the giant pachyderms or dance with the big cats.

Surprisingly my experiences with the greatest show on earth didn't start out so great. I had a terrible case of the flu for my very first circus visit, around the time I was six years old. At my urging, my father decided to take me anyway. My only memory of that circus visit is that a canon went off somewhere and I vomited soon thereafter.

I'm glad to say my recent circus memories are far happier ones... except for the $17 cotton candy. Two years ago, Bello came right up to the seat in front of us and sat down for a picture. Maybe this year will be even better and Rich will finally get a turn on the wheel of death.

This is probably only interesting to me

Recently I dined at The Waterfront Hotel, a Fells Point restaurant best known for its role as the bar on Homicide. While the good food and great view of the water are enough to attract most people to the year-old establishment, this restaurant has special significance to me as it was where my great-grandmother grew up. While there, I couldn't help but look around and try to imagine what life must have been life for her in late 19th and early 20th century Baltimore.

The Waterfront's website provides a little information about the building's history (like the fact that it built as a private residence in 1771 or that it's the second oldest brick building in Baltimore) but I still wanted to know more. The only thing I could remember was that my great-grandmother, Mom-mom, lived in the house during the Baltimore fire of 1904. When I was young, she told me about how they waited for the fire to move from east to west across the city and wondered whether it would make it to them.

For more information, I checked with my father who said he didn't really know much about the time my great-grandmother lived there but reminded me of a family history written by my great-grandmother before her death. Sure enough, in checking this family history, I found out a few interesting details that I will now share with you.

One of eight children, Mom-mom estimates that her family moved to the house at 1710 Thames Street around 1900. (She would have been around 8 years old at the time.) Her father had been running a men's clothing store around the corner on Bond Street and the family lived above it. The landlord, though, who also happened to be a cousin, was upset because the location did so well. The cousin decided he wanted to set up his own shop there and my great-grandmother's family had to move. "As soon as they moved, the cousins moved into the corner store, and that was the beginning of a feud that was worse than the Hatfields and the McCoys," my great-grandmother recalled.

So back to the Thames Street house. Mom-mom said that in its day, the place must have been a mansion because it was so big. "The rooms were enormous, with plaster cornices," she said. "There was a wide hallway with a magnificent stairway and balustrade running to the third floor." (By the way, if anyone knows what a balustrade is, let me know. I was too lazy to Google it.)

The store was on the ground level of the house. Mom-mom went on to say that the first floor had a dining room and kitchen, the second floor was the living room and her parents' bedroom, and then the other bedrooms were on the third floor. Her father built a three-story extension on to the house that they rented out, mostly to other Polish immigrants. The house itself had no heat and relied on three stoves. Her brothers brought coal up from the cellar every morning so her mother could make the fires. Then there was the bathroom: "We had an outhouse with three holes and you had to be careful where you stepped," she said.

Incidentally, as a side note, I should mention that Mom-mom's brothers are a story all their own. Two of them, Ben and Herman, started Channel 13 (now known as WJZ) in Baltimore in 1948 and went on to buy Pimlico Race Track in 1952. It's nice to know that my ancestors had a part in Baltimore's history.

Mom-mom said that during the Baltimore fire in 1904, people from other neighborhoods sought refuge at their house because they were so close to the water. In preparation for the fire, her father hired a wagon and loaded the store's merchandise on it to save it. "The only problem was that he neglected to get horses to pull the wagon," Mom-mom noted.

It isn't entirely clear how long the family stayed on Thames Street. Looking through the family history, it appears that Mom-mom's father closed the store and the family moved to Clarksburg at some point. But after another business venture went bad in 1915, the family moved to 1207 North Broadway and her father opened the store again back at 1710 Thames. He sold men's clothing and items catering to sailors. In 1920, the family moved to Reisterstown Road.

I plan to return to the Waterfront in the near future. This time I want to explore a little more though. Now that I have a little more knowledge, I want to try to imagine what went where back in the early 1900s. Oh yeah, and the food is really good, too.

Broadway in Baltimore, as it belongs

I woke up this morning to a very pleasant surprise. The list of shows for next year's Broadway in Baltimore series at the Hippodrome is out and for the first time, I'm actually excited about every single show. My Playbill holder runneth over!

Typically there are one or two shows each season (usually a play) that don't really pique my interest, but not this time. While musicals are still my favorite, I'm even looking forward to the plays (Twelve Angry Men and Doubt) that are on the schedule. I honestly believe the only way it could be better is if Les Miserables was included. And, considering the fact that Les Mis is no longer touring, I think we really lucked out.

In case you haven't seen it yet, here's the lineup:
The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee (Sept. 19-Oct. 1)
Twelve Angry Men (Oct. 24-Nov. 5)
Dirty Rotten Scoundrels (Nov. 21-Dec. 3)
Wicked (Jan. 24-Feb. 18)
Monty Python's Spamalot (March 6-18)
Sweet Charity (with Molly Ringwald)
Doubt (May 1-13)

In addition, there are three non-subscription shows also included:
Mamma Mia! (Aug. 29-Sept. 10, 2006); Altar Boyz (Nov. 7-12); and Annie (Dec. 12-17). We'll definitely go to Mamma Mia! (for the upmteenth time... I love it!) and Annie is a possibility as well.

So while I'm talking about great theater, here's my list of my favorite Broadway shows of all time.

1. Les Miserables (This story is timeless and I can listen to the music over and over. It really doesn't get any better than this.)
2. Mamma Mia! (While people complain that the plot is thin, I think the writers did a remarkable job creating a story out of a series of songs. I only wish Movin' Out had been done so well.)
3. The Life (This was a short-lived Broadway musical focused on Times Square prostitutes in the 1980s. The soundtrack is incredible.)
4. Fiddler on the Roof (This is the first Broadway musical I ever saw. From then on, I was hooked.)

Honorable mentions go to Hairspray, Oklahoma, Little Shop of Horrors, The Lion King, Evita, and Chicago, and to a lesser extent, The Producers, Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat, the Sound of Music, Phanton of the Opera, and Music Man.

Feel free to respond and tell me your favorites.

Obligatory Valentine's Day tribute to the man I love

For the first 23 years of my life I was always alone on Valentine's Day. Because of this, I determined that the so-called holiday was nothing more than a stupid Hallmark invention. After all, if people are in love, they should tell one another all the time and not allow the greeting card industry to dictate when and how they share those feelings of love. Sounds plausible enough, right?

Ah, but therein lies the rub. While this functions quite well as a theory, I haven't done so well with it in practice. Saying that Rich is the most amazing person to come into my life is a vast understatement. So understated in fact, that I usually don't say it at all.

I've never been the lovey-dovey, touchy-feeling type. I don't cry at sappy movies (unless there is a cute animal that somehow meets harm) and I don't get misty-eyed at weddings. In other words, it doesn't hurt that once a year society forces me to tell my husband how much I love him.

I don't think it makes me a bad person to need something every once in a while to remind me how much I love my husband. Sometimes it's a story about those who have loved and lost and other times it's a silly holiday filled with heart-shaped chocolates.

So anyway, here goes:

I love you, Rich. I love how you laugh at all my silly little quirks (or at least don't make me feel like I'm that strange for having so many.) I love how you're always there for me and you treat me like a royalty. You know the stupid little things that make me happy and avoid the ridiculous things that annoy me. Simply put, I love you. Happy Valentine's Day!

Let's get ready to Relay (for Life)

As most of you know, I am a two-time cancer survivor. Now that I've nearly reached the two-year mark of being cancer-free, I've decided it's time to do something to help raise money for cancer research and outreach. To that end, I'm putting together a team for this year's Relay for Life at Owings Mills High School on June 10.

Relay for Life is an overnight walk to raise money for the American Cancer Society. Team members take turns walking throughout the night and one team member must be walking at all times.

I am looking for people who are willing to sign up as team members and/or donate to the effort. If you might be interested or would like more information, please let me know.

Or, if you've already made up you're mind and you're ready to go, you can sign up and/or donate here.

Thanks in advance for your support!

Happy Birthday, Dorks

Today my twin brothers achieve a birthday milestone. They're hitting the quarter century mark. The big 2-5.

It's actually pretty hard for me to believe that my baby brothers have gotten so old. It seems like just yesterday they were skinny little punks who made mommy and daddy do everything for them. (Okay, so maybe it was just yesterday.)

At any rate, I really struggle with the fact that my brothers are, technically, adults. I often forget that when I was 25, I got married and bought a house... both adult things to do. And I do realize that my brothers both hold down full-time jobs and make car payments and do other mature things. They're even house-hunting. But they're still my little brothers.

The guys were born two months premature and my parents didn't know they were even having twins until maybe two weeks before the little alien babies were born. They had to stay in the hospital for a whole month because they were so tiny... only 5 lbs. together.

Danny came first. He's always been the impatient one. Matt came along about 12 minutes later, but only after the doctors went in after him. He's never liked being rushed.

I had just turned two and I remember the first time my grandparents took me to the hospital to visit the boys. My dad held one of them, my mom held the other, and the doctors said I had to stand just beyond the doorframe if I wanted to see them. I moved a little closer to see them (they were so little, afterall) but the doctor shut the door in my face.

Over the years, I've been a so-so big sister. When they were little I was actually pretty mean to them, probably out of jealousy. I'd like to think that I've gotten nicer over the years. Apparently my favorite game early-on was watching my mom give each of the boys a bottle. When she would put the bottle down next to her, I would pick it up and take it over to the other side of the room. Then when she put the baby down and got up to go get it, I would say "Well as long as you're up, can you get me..." What a darling child I must have been.

Lucky for me, it took my brothers quite a while to realize that if they only joined forces, they could overtake me. And now that they're bigger than I am, we actually get along for the most part.

So anyway, happy birthday guys. Enjoy your birthday season!