So I'm sitting in the airport terminal, munching away on some delicious trail mix and watching a steady stream of strangers pass in front of me, when I use my hand as a catapult and launch a few pieces of salty goodness at my mouth and miss. I laugh as my eyes fall to my chest now covered in almonds, peanuts, raisins, and cashews. The first thing I notice - there's never enough cashews in trail mix. It’s a ripoff! The second thing I see is a little girl, probably 5 or 6, sitting beside me playing with her dolls. She looks up at me and giggles and says, "It's ok. I miss my mouth too sometimes."

Note to self, or anyone riding a subway anytime soon, make sure you're holding on to something until the train has come to a complete stop. This morning the conductor applied the breaks, I stood, and the train apparently - to my great misfortune - had some more breaking to do. I tipped, tumbled, made a bizarre grunt as I rolled down the aisle. Looking back, I'm not sure you could call it a roll; it was more like a bug hitting a car windshield on the freeway. I have no doubt some seasoned New Yorker shook their head in disapproval at me and said, "stupid tourist." I haven't been that embarrassed since the time I walked up to my childhood crush at a church dance and asked for a dance, to which she replied, "no thank you."

I love to watch people’s faces when the subway driver comes across the intercom at 2 A.M. in the morning, and informs the passengers they're in Queens. The terror that sweeps across some of their faces when they realize they missed their stop, 5 stops ago, is priceless. Relax this is still America. But please know we do things differently here. For starters, our credit card machines are always "out of service," so I hope you brought some cash. Every structure has one of these elements, if not all three: flemish bond brick, marble statues of Greek Gods, and neon lights. Most bars close at midnight, except for the hookah lounges, but unless you're part of the mob or have business with them, I'd recommend staying far far away. There are still travel agencies with TWA and PAN AM ads in their windows as well as actual people at desks who book travel by telephone. Lastly, our sense of style is a little whack, I like to think it's eastern European meets the sitcom Married With Children. But please don't panic. This isn't Afghanistan, or worse New Jersey. Everything will be fine so long as you keep silent... and give me your wallet. ;)

I use to get annoyed when my grandparents would call - I knows that’s an awful thing to say, but it's the truth. Although now, more than ever, I'm thankful every time they do. I wish we had more to talk about, and that I had more time to talk. And although I'm no longer the boy they help raise or the boy they agree with on politics, we both know, that one day, the calls will stop. So know this grandparents: I'll put up with your anti-Obama jokes, fried upon fried everything, bizarre Christmas gifts and unsolicited life coaching on careers, sex and everything in between – because you are who you are and I accept you. Now, can we please turn off Fox News?

So I'm sitting here at Brighton Beach and I must say it rivals Venice Beach in terms of people watching. I've never seen so many old Russians with farmer’s tans, speedos, and gold chains around their necks in my life. Meanwhile, the soviet dolls have cigarettes in their mouths and their spare tires popping out around their mid-section, bookmarked by two-piece, neon colored bathing suits. It's as if, back in the day, sometime when the USSR was in power, they decided to charge the beaches of New York in an effort to invade America but failed miserably. They retreated and left their comrades high and dry. However, it was counted as a victory back in Russia as now their degenerates and misfits were stuck on the beaches of Brighton- those sneaky communists.