Back in Seattle

After 16 hours of dealing with shuttles, planes, and airports, it's the little things that make me happy. Like landing at Gate A6, which is far and away the best place to pull into SeaTac Airport. When you walk off the plane, the exit is maybe 30 yards directly to your left. It dumps you out right next to a rarely busy set of bathrooms, and the escalators to baggage claim. It's even at the end of the building that allows a quick pop out to the smoking section, if you are so inclined. It seriously limited my hassle factor when arriving back in Seattle last night.

Beyond that, however, I was not thrilled to be back. Seattle seems even more small and empty, more unlike a city, than it already did.

If only I had done more with my last day in New York. I know it's the city that never sleeps, but I'm too old for that shit stuff. Every night we were out late, every morning we got up in the actual am hours, and all day was spent walking blocks and blocks. I just got worn out. In the early part of the day before Steve left, he and I had a great brunch at Smith's, grabbed a shake at the Shake Shack, took a look at Grand Central Station, and wandered through a street market. After he left, I headed up to Morningside Heights to take a look around, planning to head back to down to the Lower East Side afterward and visit Jesse's favorite NY hangout.

With the subway nonsense going on that day, though, it took almost an hour to go the 60 blocks from Rockefeller to Central Park North. I spent a bit of time wandering around the Morningside Heights area -- which reminds me of Seattle, but the things I like about Seattle, such as pretty old buildings and tree-lined streets -- and by the time I was on my way back downtown, it was dinnertime, I was tired, and my knees hurt. All I wanted was a lamb rice and to put my feet up for a minute.

I grabbed my takeaway dinner and stopped in at the hotel, just to take my shoes off and check the football score, promising myself I'd go back out again. I didn't move, and 3 hours later I was in bed for the night.

The next morning left me no time to do anything but catch my airport shuttle, so that was my goodbye to New York. The city may have beaten me with exhaustion this time, but I loved every minute of it. I'll be back...

The Gayborhood... and other points West

For my second full day in New York, we did so many things (again) that it seemed like 2 or 3 days. It's no wonder that now, on my last day, I'm in love with the city, but all I want to do is nap.

Steve had a ticket for another Broadway show at 2pm, so we planned to get up early (despite our late night of drinking) and head to the Upper West Side for a Gray's Papaya hot dog. However, unbeknownst to us, some idiot took a flying leap in front of an A train, closing that track and making all the other lines run in unusual ways. Add to that my less-than-expert ability to read the subway map, and we ended up stuck on an express train heading 50 blocks further north than we wanted to go. Because we had also overslept, we didn't have time to correct the error. Steve headed straight back downtown to the theatre, while I made the trek to Gray's Papaya alone.

After the long ordeal to get there, I only spent 5 minutes at Gray's Papaya. It was cheap. It was a good hot dog. But -- and I believe saying this automatically issues a warrant for my arrest in New York state -- it wasn't go-30-blocks-out-of-my-way good. Since it was really more of a snack than a meal, I decided to take a stroll down Central Park West and stop at whatever little lunch spot caught my fancy. Nothing did, and before I knew it, I was back in Midtown eating a street gyro. I checked out the New York Public Library, Bryant Park, and Rockefeller Center, then met back up with Steve at the hotel to regroup for our Big Gay Night Out.

We were so totally sick of tourists that we decided to wait for dinner until we got the hell out of Times Square, and hopped the 1 down to the Financial District to visit the World Trade Center site. There's not much of anything to see there, and it kind of looks like any other construction site. To me that seems like a good thing, because it means something productive is finally coming out of the rubble, without forgetting the tragedy that happened there. We popped quickly into a store front displaying all of the plans for the memorial, then got on our way down to the West Village.

Sadly, when we emerged on Christopher Street, there wasn't much to eat within our price range, so we settled for a strange (but not terrible) little pizza and pita diner, then headed to the landmark of gay history known as the Stonewall Inn.

We actually quite liked the Stonewall, in spite of the tourists and $7.50 bottled Blue Moons. It was just a laid back divey bar, with a pool table in the middle and sports on TV. We couldn't afford to stay, and our tradition is bar hopping, so we moved down the street to a little place called Pieces. Again, it was very much befitting our preference in public houses, and bottled beers were only $5. Unfortunately, there was a sewage smell permeating the place, which was battling, but not covered up by, the Glade candles set up 3 feet apart all over the bar. We threw back our beers and left.

The rest of our night was happily spent in the upper section of the Duplex. It was busy with midrange prices, relaxed and a lot of fun. Our bartender Poppi reminded me a lot of my friend Julie in Seattle, both in looks and attitude. She gave us a free drink and asked us to come back and see her when she was less busy and could "do some shots with us." Jay joined us briefly, we drank and laughed a lot, and we stayed there until almost 2am (including the extra "fall back" hour).

After a subway ride and a stop at the Halal cart, we were back at the hotel ready for bed. We also spent the last part of our night laying out all of our requirements to move here. Yeah, it was that good.

NYC Tourist Attractions

I didn't have anything planned for my first full day in New York, so I let Steve take the reins and lead me to all the classic NYC tourist locations.

We started off in Central Park, not far from our hotel, which is kind of an amazing place. One of Steve's main reasons for coming here was to photograph the Bethesda Fountain angel, so that was priority number one. After that, he took several more cute snaps of the squirrels in the park, and I marvelled at the feeling of being so far out into nature, while Manhattan was still visible beyond the trees.

After the park, we took the subway down and caught the ferry to the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island, grabbing a couple of pizza slices along the way. We didn't stay long at either place. The Ellis Island museum was somewhat fascinating, but our exhaustion and aching feet made sitting on a wooden bench more appealing than wandering through all the various exhibits. This was the same reason we came back to the hotel afterward, rather than trying to do more exploring.


Our final big plan for the day was seeing Promises Promises, literally on Broadway. On the way there, we stopped in at the Stage Deli for sandwiches piled high with cured meat, then popped across the street to Lindy's for some thick wedges of their famous cheesecake. I'm not a big fan of musicals, but Steve chose this show knowing that a good performance can suck me in regardless. And it worked. Sean Hayes and Kristin Chenoweth were both amazing, as was the rest of the cast. The show was funny and engaging, and I'm glad I saw it.

We left the theatre looking for a place to have a couple of post-show drinks, but nothing seemed to draw us in. Just before giving up and going to Applebees, we finally spotted an Irish pub (Emmett O'Something's) with a sign indicating pumpkin ale on draught. We started out tired, thinking we'd leave after one or two beers. Instead, the more we drank, the more we perked up, enjoying the live Irish music and spoon-playing of our recently relocated Boston bartender, Sean. After 4 beers, it was 2am. Since we didn't feel a need to take advantage of the 4:00 close time at the bar, a few blocks walk and a quick stop at the Halal cart took us back to the hotel, and bed.

The day was long, but felt even longer. While it was full of famous New York landmarks, it was taxing and still didn't really feel like we saw the true city. Luckily I have 2 more days for that.

New York City

This is my second visit to New York. Last time, I was 14 and on a dance trip. When Steve's NY friend (and my new friend) Jay asked me where I went on my last trip, all I could remember was Times Square and the Statue of Liberty -- where I performed on the brick at Ms Liberty's feet with my tap dance troupe and famously broke a solid metal tap clean in half.

In the 12 hours since then, despite most of them being spent asleep, more memories have started coming back. I remember my dorky friends and I doing a kick line in the middle of Broadway in Times Square, just to say we had danced on Broadway. I know that I skipped the top of the Empire State Building to go shopping in the lobby's Benetton store instead, and although I didn't buy anything at Bloomingdales, I was fascinated by the sheer scale of it. I also remember making friends with a 19 year-old racecar driver at our Jersey hotel and nearly giving my chaperone a heart attack when she found me watching television in his room.

This trip, 20 years later, might be a bit different, although there could be some echoes of the past. We plan to go back to the Statue of Liberty  this morning and to see a show tonight, and I'm already (again) more impressed with the men I saw here in 3 hours than in the last 3 years in Seattle. They seem impressed with me as well, unless their looks weren't "checking me out" as Steve observed, but staring in confusion and horror.

Unfortunately, after more than 12 hours of flying and dealing with other travel hassles yesterday, I didn't have much time or energy. We walked over to Hell's Kitchen in search of dinner, but Jay's first restaurant suggestion was packed, so we continued up the street until we found another Thai place that he could vouch for. I was too exhausted to take note of the name or exact location, so I can't write a proper review here. Steve and I both got "Duck Broth," a sort of rich, slightly sweet, duck pho. It was fantastic, and I would've eaten it for days if my stomach hadn't protested barely halfway through the bowl.

Afterward, we stopped at a bar called (I think) Bamboo 52, which was a decent enough place -- draft beers were only $6, which is actually not bad here -- but just not Steve's or my style. Jay's recommendations seemed too upscale, too trendy decor for us, so we only had one beverage, vowed to find our style of laid-back dive later in the trip, and turned in for the night.

On the walk back to our hotel through Times Square, I looked to the left and said, "I ate at that Sbarro." I specifically remember getting a slice at that that particular large Sbarro on that Broadway corner, not one of the myriad others in Manhattan. It's strange what sticks in the mind and what floats away.

I hope more than the duck broth will be memorable this time. I'm sure it will be.

The Winner's Circle

There's a word for people like me and my friends: Winner.

No, for real. The evidence is overwhelming. We threw together a trivia team and won. Twice. We rushed to build a Family Feud family and won. Twice. We entered the Halloween costume contest at Changes and won. A cash prize.

Steve keeps trying to remind us all to be humble, not to let it get to our heads. To that I quote a Robbie Williams lyric, "It's hard to be humble when you're so fucking big."

Big meaning successful and popular, not gigantic. We're not gigantic. I mean, Marshall's really tall, but... well, ok, fine. How about an alternate line from the same Robbie song that applies just as well: "You can't argue with popularity. Well, you could, but you'd be wrong."

In all truth, we were pretty gracious with our main competition, Katy Perry. We figured she deserved to win as much or more than we did, so we'd be happy either way.

The thing is, we always just aim to have fun and enjoy each others' company, never really count on winning anything. As the Golden Girls, we stayed in character all night, and would have had a blast even if we didn't walk away with money. Being competitive isn't any fun. We lose a lot more often than we win, but do we care? Do we remember the losses? No, we just remember hanging out and having fun. 

And that, my friends, is a success story.

Plus, don't we look awesome as the Golden Girls? Thank you all for being a friend, Girls.