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I <3 NY · Jan 17, 05:57 PM

[UPDATE: more of the pictures are here]

It’s the day after, and I really don’t want to do this. I don’t want to write up our trip into the big apple. Not today. But listen to Johny Cash sing:

On a Sunday morning sidewalk,
I’m wishing, Lord, that I was stoned.
‘Cause there’s something in a Sunday
That makes a body feel alone.
And there’s nothing short a’ dying
That’s half as lonesome as the sound
Of the sleeping city sidewalk
And Sunday morning coming down.

When blues is done right it don’t make you happy, but it makes makes blue a nice color—beautiful, uplifting, and sad. Now I’m ready to for that New York groove spinning on in my heart.

First, the players. Merrilee Zellner, the whirlwind mastermind behind IA Travel and the Newport Hostel, assembled a crack team of international travellers and given them a mission: follow the rail tracks into Grand Central Station and emerge into the heart of New York. Return after one weekend, with pictures and stories and the experience.

Meet Vijay, the international software developer currently based in Providence. He has previously worked Colorado, Texas, Singapore, and India. He hits the New York ground running with a child-like enthusiasm for the bright lights and largeness of it all.

Meet Frank, the dutch worker and a square-jawed resident of Amsterdam. He loves America, and was powerfully moved to finally see Ground Zero; he is currently going back for a History degree and making plans to enter politics. Last week he was planning on spending less that 24 hours in New York; now he’s been there for four days, three nights, and counting.

Meet Tom, the navigator. He’s an American boy raised in Saudia Arabia and schooled in sunny Florida, bring an extensive background in diversity: 2000 mile hikes up the east coast of America, 6000 mile road trips across the breadth of the continent. Give him the subway map and five minutes; you’re ready to go!

So sit down with your orange mocha frappuccino, and let’s dial the wayback machine to Friday. After I had to deal with some messy business at work, which bears no going in to, we three met up and drove off over the Newport Bridge to Stamford, CT. We caught the 5:25 express to Grand Central. Stunning.

We walked over to Times Square and caught the 1/9 train up to W. 103rd, to check in to HI New York.

Err, that was the plan, but we headed off in the exactly wrong direction; we took an impromptu trip to see the UN complex.

After reaching the hostel and checking in, we walked across Amsterdam Ave. to take supper at a Mexican Italian restaraunt. Frank nearly insisted that we order three of their ~13 USD pizza, sure that for $13 you could not possibly get more than a personal pizza, but the waitresses and I convinced him to let us “start with one”. It came out of the oven—Vijay had picked a chicken pizza for us—and it was at least 20” across, to Frank’s boggled amazement.

After forcing down the last bite of the last piece of the pie, we waddled back towards the 1/9 and returned to Times Square, seeking out a Marriot and views therefrom. We found them on the 48th floor, from The View, a pricey little rotating lounge.

We chilled, I ordered an evilly priced martini, and returned to the hostel for a 2AM bedding. This night set the pattern for our visit—streetwalking and then vista-gawking. We alternately dove into the deep chasms that new york streets carve out between the ‘scrapers and then pulled back for a bigger-than-big picture. It began at Battery Park.

We saw Miss Liberty, pleasing Vijay much and reminding me that Ground Zero is not the only important global landmark around. In the cold-wind we took pictures, enjoying light crowds, then headed off to dive into the financial district. The architecture imposes here: there are no shops to keep your gaze from wandering up and up; the buildings are designed to impress, intimidate—corporate castles, built from stone and steel.

And our wandering brought us to Ground Zero. Frank was moved especially. We wandered off to some shiny hotel to warm up after an appropriate time spent listening to “crazy black guy” talk all about 9/11, complete with visual aids and horrifyingly detailed trivia.

We were walking north with no more plan that to maybe catch lunch in Chinatown and then see Soho, Greenwich Village, and any other Manhattan community we ran across. As we passed city hall on our way to Chinatown we saw signes for the Brooklyn Bridge and went for a looksie. From the middle of the bridge we looked back on the island. On our left the financial district gleamed. On our right the downtown beckoned, and we stode back into the fray, feeling hungry.

Again, Frank was floored the cheap food findable in New York—we ate at a $4 buffet in Chinatown featuring tofu prepared at least a half dozen ways, whole fish (a long skinny thing, probably grilled, popular with the locals), and noodles six ways from sunday.

Refreshed, we were headed north when I connected with Evan, a native and my good friend who resides at the upper end of Midtown. He very nearly met us in line outside the Empire State Building. We were in the door too fast for him to reach us, and so agreed to meet up post-observating. And what an awesome observating it was. Seriously, it was worth the wait to get into the building to get in line for the elevator which took you up to the line on the second floor to the ticket office and a serious sales pitch for various assundry tourist trappage while you where again in line waiting for the elevator up the 80th floor where you would your way around the building in another line for the last elevator ride upwards to the observatory with a f**king awesome view.

That’s where New York really hit me. You can stick your face out between the holes in the chain link fence—Frank figured it out first—into the freezing wind and now you’re hanging over the city with nothing between you and eight million people living out lives in the sleepless machinery and lumbering towers of city. It won’t fit into your head—it’s just too big—without displacing most of what everybody call “consciousness”. Stunning.

An hour of floating over the whole bright world later and it was time to drop back down to earth. Or at least stand in all the lines.

At the bottom, we took a train up to Evan’s place; His building has a well-dressed man in the lobby who rings up whomever you are there to see and then pushes the elevator button for you. Nice.

I see Evan about once every three years, but our friendship—pseudo-babble alert—transcends the limitations of space and time as conceived by the limited human minds that cannot even hold a large apple in their eye all at once. We were off and running again, and the four of us partook of an excellent fellowship. The vibe would last all evening, through dinner at an organic Mexican resaurant (whole wheat tortillas and tofu “sour cream” for free, if you ask), through a failed attempt at Plan B (a bar in the East Village, methinks), all the way to some tiny joint playing eighties music and full-but-not-crowded with kids there for dancing and having fun. Pretentiousity was low. Ecstatic dancing was the high. A good time.

But we are a disciplined crew—recall all that business about a “crack squad” previously (not the “crack pipe squad”, please do note)? We were in bed that evening by 0200.

The next day I split off to spend time with Pete, Trish, and Don in Brooklyn after mass at St. Patrick’s cathedral. Frank and Vijay toured Central Park and the Rockefeller Center. We reunited at Grand Central to say goodbye. Vijay and I took an evening train back to Stamford; Frank was going to stay for two more nights.

There you go, Falling in love with New York.

* * *

  1. Man I need to come hang w you guys! — Bill    Jan 24, 04:30 PM    #

  2. Yes. Yes, you do. :) — Tom    Jan 25, 07:08 PM    #

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