Topics of conversations around all things girly!

Tuesday, September 2, 2008


My first trip to NYC.

On Labor Day, I took a red eye out to NYC. First, though I had to endure a 2 1/2 hour layover in Boston. Nice city, from what I could tell. I flew JetBlue for the first time. Nice that they have free TV and that I happened to remember my headphones. I specifically tried to keep myself tired for the day so that I would fall sound asleep on the plane. Alas, that never happened. I blame two things: the fact that I got a middle seat and the fact that A&E was running a marathon on meth addicts. I was completely fascinated. Why, don't ask, don't know really. Plus I think the stinky B.O. man to my left wasn't helping the situation, either.

JetBlue served little animal crackers and mini bottles of water. Reminded me of 3rd grade recess. In Boston, I got a Starbucks tea and chocolate chip scone. While I ate it, I saw a boy start to cry because they called his row but his mom wasn't back from the restroom yet and he thought that they had to board without her. Personally, he was far too old to be crying like that and to have logic like that. Nevertheless, we all boarded for Boston: mom, family, and me.

The plane ride was short (around 45 minutes) and I could just feel my excitement grow. The sun was up and I was able to see the glory that is New York. I distinctly remember the Empire State Building (I know, not too hard to miss.) I chugged an orange juice and I was on my way to baggage claim.

One of the great things about my work is the Elite Limo service. Nicely dressed men come to the baggage claim with your name on it (yes, like you are some sort of celebrity of VIP) and escort you to a clean, black Lincoln Towncar. It's the smoothest ride in town. So, mine eventually came around and my 15 seconds of fame at JFK was had.

The ride into the city was overwhelming. I was so excited to be in NYC. I couldn't believe all of the housing projects, rows and rows of them. Shortly thereafter, we took a tunnel into the city. At the end of the tunnel, the road splits three ways: uptown, midtown, and downtown. We went downtown. Picked up the keys at the Chelsea and was dropped off in front of our apartment...or so I thought.

The address is 163 8th Avenue between 18th and 19th Streets. When I got out of my limo, I saw that there was a transportation business there. Confused, I went in to ask. Very quickly I was introduced to that New York attitude because the lady retorted, "This a transportation business not a hotel!"

I went back outside and looked around, again, confused. Upon further inspection there was another 163 8th Avenue address (yes, two, I guess NY can do that). It was a small, inconspicuous door. Sure enough, the keys opened it up: a tall, narrow staircase awaited me and my heavy luggage. Up the stairs we went into a narrow foyer. Apartment #2. That's me. I walk in and realize that my place of current residence was smaller than this comfortable abode. Hot dog! Score one for Jazzy Fresh!

I scan the place: a newly renovated (and fully stocked) kitchen, a dining room, living room, bathroom, two bedrooms, and a master bedroom with bathroom. Sweet! Quickly, I unpack my belongings and ponder showering. That's when I conk out. Gone, tired little miss needs her sleep.

1:00 pm EDT. I walk up. Shower. Mahin greets me at her door (I didn't know she was napping too.) We agree to meet up at the Guggenheim later that afternoon. Using Google Maps, I see that indeed I could walk to Le Gugg from my apartment. So I set out in my new Faryl Robin red criss cross shoes. Hot. Sassy. Down 8th and a right on W. 35th. I walk, and walk, and walk, and walk. I see Madison Square Gardens, Harold Square, the ginormous Macy's, and all of the beautiful and unique fabrics in the garment district. Neato! So, ok, where's the Gugg? No where to be found!

I find myself getting suckered into the souvenir shops and pick up some goodies for the peeps while I'm there. I call a cab (it's so easy in NY, SF should take notes) and head all the way across town to the Guggenheim. What was Google Maps smoking?? Anyways, they have several cool exhibits: Kandinsky, Louise Bourgeous, and NY in the 1940's, amongst their usual Van Gogh and Picasso fare. I find Mahin by the French countryside painting. We shall meet up again when we are both through.

When we meet again, we decide to walk through Central Park since it is across the street. She leads me to this view of the reservoir and it's simply gorgeous! Pictures, yes I have them. The skyline is cool and the sun is setting in the most awesome way. We walk along the trail and see a very 'romantic' type bridge. We both think it's from the movie 'Enchanted.' Also took advantage of this photo op.

I let Mahin know that my Faryl Robin's are starting to ache so we catch a cab back to the apartment. Dinner with Mahin's friend, Lai, and her boyfriend Gabe, will be at 8:00 pm sharp. Meet at Right next to Little Italy. Evidently this restaurant was in an episode of Sex and the City and was renamed 'Scout.' Right as we are finishing up emails, calling friends/family, Becky arrives! The trio is complete. Becky showers and we are on our way.

Our cab driver is from Ghana and is very conversational. He defines the different districts for us (as we are driving through SOHO - South of Houston.) He also lets us know if his dislike of soap operas but love of the History channel. Chatty bombatty.

We arrive. Are seated. Deliciousness ensues. I ordered the mustard encrusted chicken with steamed spinach and potatoes. Oh, and a glass of chianti. This meal hit the spot (I neglected to have lunch earlier because I was so excited). Great conversations top off the evening. We cab back and prepare for the night.

I write a blog and drift off into sleep...


Princess Buttercup said...

Ah NY, the city I love to hate. Count on delays from JetBlue, death defying cab rides, snotty Starbucks employees, fab shopping, great views, scrumptious meals, and achy feet.

P.S. When you leave JFK, the Jet Blue terminal is tricky. The higher gates, like in the 20s, are in a FEMA like trailer which means gross bathrooms, and gross food. If you get to security and the TSA rushes you to the right, beware! That is the shuttle to FEMA! Otherwise, the other gates are in the Food Court and all is well.

...Unless of course they opened the new concourse...

Princess Buttercup said...

Oh, and you must do Top of the Rock, you won't be sorry. I wouldn't waste valuable time and money on the ESB.

AAA discount for TofR.

Princess Buttercup said...

Last one, you must get a magnet from Little Italy. Don't disappoint your ancestors!

Ohh, and Anthropologie at Rockefeller is AMAZING!

K. I'm done.

momo said...

Hmm, good points. I was *this* close to going to the TofR, but decided against it. Fashion week at Bryant Park was more on the top of my mind. Oh how I wish I had a pass!