Friday marked a momentous day for New Yorkers (and I’d bet most open-minded Americans) when the state senate approved the Marriage Equality Bill and Governor Cuomo wasted NO TIME in signing it that evening.
I couldn’t be more proud of my state. Now, let’s hope that the rest of the country falls in line with the six states (Massachusetts, Connecticut, Iowa, Vermont and New Hampshire) and the District of Columbia in recognizing that this union is as valid as any other.
According to the New York Daily News, Cuomo told Talk 1300-AM, “This issue of marriage equality has touched people in a way that government seldom does… It’s personal. It’s who they are. It’s who their family is.” He then went on to say that parents of gay children have told him that they are “now more comfortable with their kids being gay because society is now accepting of it.” He finished by saying, “It’s acceptance, it’s respect, it’s equality.”
Thank you to all of the folks in Albany who fought for this and to all the friends who helped make this happen. It’s a new day New York!
This weekend also included NYC Pride, which I only enjoyed briefly when the train from New Jersey gave me a glimpse at the fireworks as we traveled back toward Manhattan. I spent the day in Parsippany at the 2011 Star Trek Convention, playing sidekick to my friend Mike as he relished in the grown-up Disneyland of it all. He’s a huge fan of all things Star Trek so it was fun to visit that world with him and watch the throngs of fans assemble en masse for their favorite celebrity guests.
I don’t know much about Star Trek, except for the couple of movies I’ve seen or the episodes I’ve watched with Mike or my roommate (also a Trek fan). But it really felt like a study in cultural anthropology to watch the throngs of people who, at the risk of making a broad generalization, seemed somewhat socially awkward when greeting each other.
The group ranged from folks who simply loved the stories, characters and message to those who seemed consumed by the fantasy. From airbrushed denim jackets emblazoned with sprayed on starships to hand-painted Christmas ornaments with various characters faces for sale in the vendor’s hall, the event was pretty interesting.
The only down side was the miserable experience we encountered at the convention hotel when the only open restaurant on the property treated us in the most embarrassing and misery inducing fashion. The convention was at the Parsippany Hilton Hotel in New Jersey and their buffet-restaurant, Olive, seemed reasonable in price and there didn’t seem to be a wait.
A waiter appeared after a moment and asked if we were waiting to be seated. We confirmed and he took us to a two-seater not far from the front. He said he’d be back in a moment for our drink order and hurried off to help another patron who was flagging him down. A moment later a gentleman appeared and told us we had taken his friends’ table. He was perfectly nice about it and we saw the friends returning from their trip to the buffet. We apologized and stood, looking for the waiter to let him know we needed assistance (and a new table). As he approached we explained the situation and before he could respond another man, who we found out was the manager-on-duty, appeared and scolded us, “You can’t just come in and seat yourself!” I was immediately taken back. He was loud enough to stir up the curiosity of the other patrons and I tried to explain what had happened. He didn’t care. “If you want a table you’ll have to sign in and get behind those people,” he pointed to the entrance to the newly formed line. “Sorry?” I said. “We already went through the check-in process and were seated. We’d just like a new table since our’s was already taken before we got to it.” He looked perplexed, like he couldn’t understand my concern.
“You need to leave. Go out and if you want to eat here you’ll check-in and wait in line.” At this point he shooed us to the door, nearly rushing us past the other diners while still yelling at us in full volume.
We were stunned. Mike asked what I wanted to do. “I want to complain to someone.” We walked to the front, on the off chance that the other restaurant had opened – it hadn’t – and I considered going to the front desk to speak to the hotel manager. But instead we walked back toward the restaurant where I approached the host stand again.
He didn’t look up, “Yes, how many?”
“Excuse me,” I said, and he raised his head.
“Ugh, what?” That was his disinterested response.
“I don’t understand why you were so rude to us. We did as we were told, waited at this host stand, were greeted then seated by your wait staff and then you rushed us out the door yelling at us and scolding us as though we were children.”
“So? What do you want?” This was his careless reply.
“I want an apology,” I insisted.
“I gave you one.”
“No, you didn’t actually. You yelled at us and hurried us to the door.”
“Fine, so what do you want now?”
“I want an apology from you for the way you behaved. That or I’d like to speak to your manager.”
His face soured, “I am the manager.”
Of course. “Then I’d like to speak to your manager.”
“There is no one higher.”
“Then I’ll speak to the hotel manager about the people that manage their restaurant in this facility,” and I walked back toward Mike who was waiting in line at a nearby concession stand for any kind of food that they might offer… because it wasn’t looking like we’d be eating a real lunch at this point.
But seconds later the “manager” came up to our side and, sardonically, said, “I have a table if you want it.”
I said nothing but turned to Mike with raised eyebrows, Do you?
“Yes, thank you,” Mike said, and we followed the manager into the restaurant and took our seats.
The poor waiter who had seated us originally came up and, after apologizing for the trouble, took our order and waited on us with his full attention – obviously trying to make up for the embarrassment caused by the manager.
I know everyone has a bad day… I have bad days. But to take it out on the public like this is completely inexcusable. I sat down this morning and wrote a letter to Hilton’s corporate office and to the hotel’s manager to express my dissatisfaction with this person’s absurd behavior.
I doubt that will get anywhere but who knows. I at least felt better having voiced my concern to someone in charge.
But even still, this rude manager-on-duty can’t destroy the elation I feel about my state making such important strides and the fun I had in experiencing. Venting is complete and now joy can resume. In fact, I again feel THIS good (see video below of the cast of Priscilla Queen of the Desert driving through the NYC Pride March yesterday).
Tommy Karr 