Earlier this year, I took a 5-day trip to New York City with some of my favorite people. Running through a laundry list of every spot we hit up and every activity we did sounds too humdrum, and since I have very few pictures from that week, what follows here is an attempt to capture the feel and spirit of the trip from my point of view. This piece is non-linear and it doesn't cover EVERY part of the vacation, but they're mental snapshots, if you will, conveyed to the best of my ability with words. Hope you enjoy it. I did.
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Amore (3 am-ish, Wednesday, June 1)
Two pepperoni slices. Down the gullet. We're about to leave, but I stumble into the restroom to wash my hands first. I'm still drunk, but am now sobering up enough to care about not getting pizza grease all over the cab seats. People have tagged and scribbled all over the place, but one phrase catches me as I'm about to exit the restroom. At eye level, in black sharpie on the wall: "Bad kid, baby."
No doubt a reference to a Lady Gaga song (Bad Kids). I know this because by releasing her new album four days before our arrival in New York, Madre Monster has unwittingly provided the unofficial soundtrack to our trip. We've listened to a handful of the songs every morning this week while getting ready for the day. We've put You and I on repeat in our hotel room ipod deck and we are not ashamed of this. We've hummed it to ourselves and to each other while ambling down the streets in the heat and humidity, while barhopping in the West Village, while treading through Midtown crowds, while sauntering through the Upper East Side. Sampled percussion from We Will Rock You informs our step, with Brian May's signature guitar ringing in our heads for hours. We keep singing: "You, you and I. You, you, and I."
It's a song about romantic love, but here it's turned into somewhat of a theme song for our collective group of chums. And here on our last night (now technically morning) in the city, full of whiskey and pizza, I'm thankful the trip was a success. Adventure and fun was had and I realize how happy I am that these are the people with whom I've been fortunate enough to spend the last 120+ hours.
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Refresh (Friday, May 27)
Considering the fact that there was a little spat before we even arrived at the airport to leave for New York, five consecutive days together could prove to be disastrous. But as it turns out, it ain't no thang. It's resolved minutes before we board. And despite the fact that we showed up at Hotel Roger Williams hours before our actual check-in time, our room is ready anyway. Not having to lug our baggage with us through Manhattan is an amazing stroke of luck. We're tired, ya'll. It's naptime.
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At lunch, our shoes wait for us in wooden cubbies. The city bustle is nonexistent here. It's quiet, slow, tranquil. A fresh, Korean vegetarian meal and a ginger tea is reinvigorating. Now we're really ready to start our trip. Let's do this thing.----------
Blur (Sunday evening, May 29/Monday morning, 30)
5 vodka shots for 10 bucks @ Continental in the East Village. Nirvana on the jukebox.
"Psh. Maaan, you guys are always dancing!"
Jack & Coke @ Pop Burger in Chelsea. Sliders and fries. Serenading said sliders during a Gaga song. While dancing.
Waiting in line outside Cafeteria. Still in Chelsea.
Still waiting. Still waiting.
Finally! Mac Attack mac & cheese sampler inside Cafeteria.
Sleep. Four of us crammed into a room meant for two.
Eating leftover truffle oil mac & cheese using the plastic container lid as a makeshift utensil.
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Arthur's Tavern (Tuesday, May 31)
It's a tiny place decked to the nines with multitudinous strings of christmas lights, signs, pictures, and tchotchkes, and a performance stage takes up a lot of space, yet our little corner of the bar feels pretty cushy for our group of seven. The resident blues band plays throughout the evening, and in between their sets Otis Redding blares through the speakers. Whiskey is the drink of choice and tonight there's tons of it coupled with frequent cigarette breaks outside. Before too long, the cigarette box is empty and our waitress has presented us a final round of shots before we leave. On to Amore for grub.
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Apothéke (Monday, May 30)
Down one scary alley. Then right through another. Past two drunks. One of 'em is pissing on the wall. And now it looks like they're following us. This area used to be a section of the infamous Five Points neighborhood. Sketchy nearly 200 years ago. Sketchy now.
Manhattan is tiny, but there's a lot of ground to cover and though we've probably not gone through even a fifth of it, we've done enough walking the past few days to make it feel as though we've conquered the entire island. Still, despite being tired we want to do more. We find the bar and make it inside, but my initial relief is tempered by just a brief glance around the room. Now, there's no dress code here, but next to our perfectly groomed barmates in skirts and stilettos? I mean, in my romper I kind of look like a dirty seventh-grade kid who crashed my cooler older cousin's high school party after running around in the sun all day. Our dinner spot was closer to this place than our hotel so we didn't stop to freshen up. Oh well. In our grown-up voices, we order our drinks, then giggle and drool over the cute, young-ish jazz musicians and bartenders. I don't feel so bad now; this is fun.
Several hours later, it's back to the fort where there's more laughing and we devour chocolate and graham cracker flavored rice pudding with brightly colored spoons.
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