Miss Manhattan Hangs Out...with Conan the Barkbarian

Every Saturday morning, or as many Saturday mornings as possible, Conan the Barkbarian gets up at around 7 am to go to Puppy Rumble at his friend’s house down the street. Puppy Rumble is a small gathering of dogs who run around in a dog mom’s spacious backyard, noshing on all-natural meaty treats and grass and barking to their heart’s content while their owners sip coffee and nibble pastries. Before Conan arrives, though, his mom Cassandra tucks a baseball cap on her head and takes him out for “walkies” as it’s known, then we all jump in her car for a quick drive to Casa Puppy Rumble. We arrive at about 7:30 am and Conan trots joyfully on his leash to the back gate and begins to bark in excitement. That’s the funny thing about Conan--he’s still young in dog years, so he doesn’t quite know his own strength, physically or bark-wise. Kind of like a furry, swole teenager.

This nearly 60-pound dog--which I incorrectly clock at 30 pounds upon first guess then sarcastically quip ”I’m a journalist who can accurately identify how much things weigh!”--will jump up onto my lap with the lightness of a dog a sixth of his size, hoping to be given scritches and cuddles once I catch my breath from having 60 pounds launched (albeit very sweetly and with only the best intentions) at me from the floor below where I sit. If I am standing, he leaps up on to his hind legs to play, pressing his front paws on me, and I nearly fall over. Deep, resonant barks yap from his mouth to the point where I wonder how the neighbors feel about having a dog alarm clock, bless his heart, waking them up at 7:30 on a Saturday morning. But look at that sweet, happy face! He is so excited to be here and play with his friends that I am also excited for him.

Conan is one of the youngest of the Puppy Rumble crew, which also includes Lulu, who just had puppies; Monty, her puppy daddy; and a delightfully droopy, crotchety basset hound who’s had a tumor removed from his back and is not here for your antics. They run and bark and growl and play, Conan running the fastest, mouth flying open and tongue flapping in the breeze, a 60-pound rocket delighting in the morning’s wet grass as a playground and as a snack. If Conan gets too close to Lulu, Monty gets territorial and bears his teeth, so Cassandra scoops Lulu up for a cuddle. There will be no Melrose Place-esque drama here at Puppy Rumble today. Not that Conan really even notices, or is anything more than mildly confused by his friends’ reactions. He seems to have a permanent smile on his face. Happy to be here! Happy for snacks! Happy for friends! Happy for mom and mom’s friend who holds the weird black box that makes clicking noises in front of her face!

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Miss Manhattan Hangs Out...with Todd Snider

You can make all the “cunning linguist” jokes you want to Todd Snider, but I promise you he’s heard them before. I got bored of making them several years ago and our friendship is better for it. Because Todd is, in fact, a linguist. Absorbed by the puzzles of language and the straightforwardness of mathematics, perhaps he has always been.

Todd found his linguistics path in a class called “The Nature of Language” we took freshman year of college. While it dissolved my brain into a puddle of tears covered in dust, he loved it. Todd got his Ph.D. in Linguistics from Cornell University in 2017, minoring in Cognitive Science. He is now a Postdoctoral Research Fellow at the Hebrew University in Jerusalem’s Language, Logic, and Cognition Center. He is interested in “the semantics and pragmatics of natural language,” or how meanings interact with context and with each other.

Todd lives in Israel currently and is in New York only sparingly. I am lucky, then, that I get to spend a chunk of the day with him. The data on Todd’s phone is not functioning currently due to international cellular phone nonsense, so he’s written down some places he wants to go. It is 11 am but I have no qualms about indulging in a blueberry lemon cupcake with him at Georgetown Cupcake.

Post-cupcake, we trot across Soho to Warby Parker, where Todd is curious about getting some new frames. After several (often hilarious and purposeful) failed attempts on both our parts, we find a pair that works--distinguished yet hip-but not-in-an-obnoxious-way rectangular black frames Todd resolves to procure at a later date.

At 2 pm, Todd has an appointment at The Black Tux to rent a suit for our friend’s wedding, so we continue to poke around Soho for a while. Our travels take us to Rudy’s Music, a legendary guitar emporium filled with all iterations of the curvaceous, glittery, colorful instrument, and to Rowing Blazers, a shop of preptastic garments designed primarily for the younger set. Todd tries on several blazers, one of which is great. The others just make us laugh. I remember the days when Todd used to wear baggy t-shirts and carpenter-esque jeans. These days, to my utter delight, he opts instead for button-downs and slim-cuts rolled at the ankle. He knows what a “front tuck” is and references Tan France more than once.

The Black Tux time has come, and before the appointment Todd works on a crossword puzzle on a whiteboard in the waiting area. Soon he slides elegantly into a black suit that needs only a few alterations. And now, since the grand suit experience is complete, we can eat. It’s a short walk to the aptly named Vegetarian Dim Sum House on Pell Street, where we can and do indulge in all manner of meatless extravaganzas as well as several pots of tea. Vegetarian dim sum is hard to find in New York, let alone Israel. I’m so glad he’s here.

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Miss Manhattan Hangs Out...with Dr. Wang Newton

When I meet Dr. Wang Newton outside of Di Di Dumpling on E. 24th Street, the sky has just recently cleared from a flash downpour. Wang arrives, hair majestically coiffed, black and streaked through with a flash of blond. Somehow, though it’s just rained, they are a vision of capital F-Fashion, long tasseled earrings, sharp and flowing shapes of black fabric encasing their frame and black sneakers decorated with gold accents. Wang isn’t normally photographed out of their drag king attire. Rather, their onstage persona is often the focus, that of a 1970s-Vegas-style emcee, a Taiwanese version of Wayne Newton attired in a red or black embroidered suit, an Elvis wig, aviator-style glasses, thick eyebrows and moustache, a giant red lace thong in their pocket to dab away perspiration for comedic effect.

Wang has chosen Di Di Dumpling because they say it has the dumplings that most closely recall their mother’s. We dive into a batch and Wang tells me the story of how their drag came to be. Wang (which is, of course, just their name onstage) has been a drag king since 2004, when they attended a Halloween party calling for black attire and a wig of some kind. Wang Newton was born that night, lyrics of “Danke Schoen” in hand. The “Wangpire” has since evolved, and they have performed around the globe, beloved by Time Out New York in particular as “joyously mad.” They host and produce a variety show full of what Wang describes as “gaysian flair,” called Happy Beginnings. The next one, themed “Crazy Rich Slaysians,” will take place August 15 at C’Mon Everybody in Brooklyn.

By day, Wang works in marketing. A few times a week, they spend time at The Assemblage, a wellness-driven space in the Flatiron District. Upon entering, a crystal and dried flower arrangement asks us to set an intention for our visit. We head to the roof, decorated in wood, stone and lanterns, with a magical view of the city’s skyline. Some seats are still wet from the rain but we find some dry tables and make ourselves comfortable.

Wang’s preferred brand of comedy includes what they call culture-fucking and gender-fucking, messing with perceptions of culture and gender we’re fed, parodying these ideals to show how ridiculous such things are. Among Wang’s inspirations for comedy are Dave Chappelle and Sacha Baron Cohen, whose new show Who is America? Wang found particularly revelatory. Wang hopes to bring a ferocity and swagger of performance they like to call “Big Wang Energy” to the stage, each time further realizing the Wang Experience.

Light begins to fade from the rooftop. We head downstairs to a communal space laden with chandeliers, tuffets, pillows, and an installation of mushrooms plastered onto the walls. The energy is quiet before we go back out into the world for bubble tea, one of Wang’s favorite treats from Taiwan. Wang readies a straw and smiles, about to puncture the tea’s plastic lid with a pop. “This is my favorite part.”

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