332 E. 11th Street, East Village

(Real) definitions of the word "Buffalo":

1. A large shaggy-haired brown bison

2. A city on Lake Erie in western New York

3. A shuffling tap-dance step

Initially I found myself rather perplexed by this so-called “Buffalo Exchange" (and rightfully so).  When sent there to select attire for an upcoming photo shoot, I half expected to encounter a bizarre scenario involving wild oxen and awkward dance moves.

To my delight, I stumbled upon one helluva thrift shop. And the concept is actually simpler than it sounds. Old clothes = money in the bank. Bring in your preloved wares, they price’em, and you get 30% cash of what it’s worth or 50% store credit.

One look around and you'll want the store credit. All attire goes through a rigorous selection process before hitting the floor, resulting in a trendy mix of steals ‘n’ deals.

Why they chose to name their store after a mammoth-like creature, I'll never know. But I'm willing to look past it.

I tend to stick to this simple rule: don’t eat anything that moves.

But when hunger strikes and you’re tearin’ up the sidewalk at the velocity of 100, those food carts look rather tasty. “Halal! Hot Dogs! Flavored Cashews!” they scream. And you think, yes. Yes, I could chomp on that right about now.

But when food comes this fast, the question is- can you trust it?

I was walking with a born-n-raised New Yorker the other day who scoffed at a group of tourists lined up to purchase a “dirty water dog”. "I can’t believe they eat that stuff," said the NYer. "Those hot dogs are disgusting. They just swim in that nasty warm water for days.”

I played it cool, but was secretly nauseated. I had eaten a “water dog” on the go yesterday, and now I was slowly being poisoned by it. How could I be so naive? To think that these were made fresh daily, by a caring chef with a passion for ballpark cuisine? I had been hoodwinked. Deceived by the cart’s seemingly friendly nature and alluring yellow umbrella.

Needless to say, this tidbit is enough to smother my hunger pangs for quite some time. Thanks but no thanks, oddly convenient food. I’d rather munch on a granola bar and spare myself the post-consumption regret.

The subway system is organized chaos at its finest. Get in line, hop aboard, and always mind your manners.

DO pay attention to uptown vs. downtown. Oddly enough, the two options take you in completely different directions.

DON’T get sucked in by the performers. I admit, the breakdancers are quite enchanting (and so nimble!) but don’t forget, you’re in transit. Which means you have places to be other than an underground tunnel.

DO have your MetroCard out and ready to swipe. Unless of course, you want to be responsible for the line of people behind you, who are now late for work thanks to your carelessness.  Growing later and more distressed by the minute as you leisurely sift through your bag, bit, by bit, by bit…

DON’T think the subway doors will re-open for anything. This includes clothing, limbs, your entire body, etc. I was once was pinned in a subway door, and had to choose between surrendering to my fate or uncharacteristically hulking out on the door. I chose the latter.

DO bring your iPod. When the morning Mariachi players come to serenade your car...you’ll be happy you did.

DON’T get into an empty subway car. If it's deserted, you have not discovered some secret oasis. It is empty for a reason. Either: A) a horrific stench  B) a creepy individual has claimed it or C) Cloverfield is reality. All bad things.