Manhattan ain’t so great!  If this grasping metropolis were so full of rainbows and roses then I wouldn’t have to go to Hoboken for a hair cut.

That’s right, you awful snobs, hurl at me your boos and your hisses!  But I take no pleasure in $100 haircuts, and even less in $10 ones.  In a city that aggressively hates the middle class, I’m left to try my luck in Koreatown or hit the PATH train.

I ask you, what’s a man with gently waving hair to do?

New York magazine’s recommendations smugly pre-suppose that I’ll agree with them that $125 is a bargain for a spin in the salon chair.  If you ask me, for $125 that massage over the sink better not stop at the neck.

Suspecting another massive island-wide industry conspiracy (of which there are MANY), I googled “insane manhattan haircut pricing bleeds me dry!”, but surprisingly didn’t find anything substantive.  Thus I edited my keywords, and found a helpful little article that essentially suggests I throw up my hands and surrender to the dark salon powers that be.

Unwilling to submit and undaunted by a train that goes underwater to a different state, I booked myself an appointment at a quaint little shop in Hoboken, and have never looked back.  Not even to check if my neck’s been properly trimmed.  Because Victor’s just that good, but he doesn’t make a big deal about it or anything.

- Topher Burns

Manhattan ain’t so great!  If this island were so damn special, I would have had a Shamrock Shake yesterday.

Instead, in a vain attempt to echo the spirit of the holiday, I sat in my office chair in my tastefully green slacks, and drank green tea.

Manhattan certainly has a history of disdain for promotions from national food chains.  5 for 5?  Good luck even finding an Arby’s, much less leaving one (I recommend Brooklyn’s newest) having paid less than twice that.  Everything about Manhattan fast-ish food, from my neighborhood Burger King dropping Dr. Pepper from its fountains to the Times Square Red Lobster blithely ignoring Lobster Feast, speaks to a “you’ll come crawling back” mentality.

So when I wanted to kick up my heels Irish style, I should have expected the callous corporate monsters at McDonald’s would have a surprise for me.  And indeed, nary a one was to be found.  Blarney, I say!

Even the infinite power of the internet’s most advanced technology (www.shamrockshake.com) was practically mum on the subject.  Apocryphal rumors of a Union Square supply failed to motivate me to commute for lunch.  Throw in a McRib sandwich and we’ll talk.  Seriously.

Most dismaying, though, was to see other cities generally considered to be inferior to our fair island mocking us with their surfeit of minty green goop.

Sure, Manhattan, you’ve kept your St. Patrick’s Day Parade as the oldest, biggest, and straightest in the world, but without a Shamrock Shake in my hand I wonder if I wouldn’t rather live in a city where they dye the rivers green.

-Topher Burns