Old News Is Old
So. Chicago.
It is hard to convey...
Wait!
I never talked about my stay in New York, the stop that closed out the Mad Lurch. Oh, hell. Let's try and do this with some alacrity. By now I've done this rap more than a few times in person already, so let's cast our mind back two months, throw up some pictures, and call it a day.
(Speaking of unfinished business from The Mad Lurch, Lindsey pointed out that I should go into The San Francisco Homeless Guy Incident at some point. I will as soon as I can find the right hook. I doubt this entry will provide it, but we'll see.)
I got into New York (Newark, actually) in the evening and was greeted by the inimitable Chris & Karen. With the negligible aid of the worst GPS in the universe, we found our way back to Brooklyn, ate some Mediterranean at the restaurant across the street and I was introduced to Chris & Karen's lovely two-bedroom hallway.
This may sound like I'm slamming it, but I'm not. It was actually very nice (I not only had my own room , but my own bathroom, for God's sake), it was just, well, aggressively longer than it was wide, and I've never quite stayed in anywhere quite like it.
Needless to say, Chris & Karen were lovely hosts. Why, here they are now...
(I should also note that Karen, a professional foodie at this point, makes absolutely delicious vichyssoise. You should always visit them when the food magazine she works for dumps a megaton of free potatoes on them.)
On my first full day in New York, Chris and I walked into Manhattan over the Brooklyn Bridge, which was pleasantly surreal. The last time I entered Manhattan, I was stargated into midtown through the Holland tunnel. Here I crept up on it on my own power. Walking slowly into such a gargantuan edifice, letting the impressive, looming scale build and build until it suddenly melts into mere surroundings personalized the city for me and made it all feel more real.
As did the overpriced, but yummy, hamburgers.
This is the Shake Shack, a local fixture, located in a small park somewhere in midtown. (Disclaimer: No shakes were consumed.)
But it was still yummy.
See?
You know, in retrospect my entire trip seemed to consist mostly of thumbs-up and eating.
Anyway, as sunny as it looks it those pics, as the afternoon wore on, the weather started to turn. I was meeting Miranda-From-China in Times Square for dinner and a Broadway show (she had free tickets). By the time Chris and I got there, one end of the street had blue skies, while the other was darkening fast.
Indeed, one of my favorite moments of this leg of the trip was standing in the middle of Times Square, surrounded by thousands of people, when a sharp boom of thunder suddenly echoed through the concrete and steel canyons, and all those thousands of people let out a spontaneous, worried, "Oooooooooo" in unison.
This was followed, obviously, by a quick summer downpour. As Chris and I hid under a nearby awning, we watched with wonder at how quickly Times Square, one of the most crowded places in the U.S., could empty out utterly. As the storm raged, it was like the city was on pause, as everyone huddled under cover, the guys scalping tickets to Broadways shows leading sing-alongs, and everyone waiting for both the rain and the sing-along to pass.
Eventually, I found Miranda-From-China. We had dinner, met up with a couple more of her friends, including the American correspondent for China's national television network. Nice guy. He was deeply embarrassed when Miranda told me that I as sitting next to the most famous face in Chinatown and one also known by *billions* on the other side of the planet. Chatting with him in the theater before the deeply terribly Broadway play that Miranda got us into for free (we were overcharged) was far more interesting than the performance, itself.
I won't go into the play, itself, because I've done that bit *a lot* live, and it feels like most of the people reading this have heard it in person. I could be wrong. If there is a overwhelming groundswell of desire for me to go through the (only almost) hilariously awful experience that was Irena's Vow on here, that's what the comments section is for.
[Which leads us to the question of who reads Livejournal, period, these days. There is no use debating the fact that Facebook has won this fight hands down, which is a shame. Facebook is "useful" for the same reason that Microsoft Windows is; because of brute force market penetration only. Aside from the fact that everyone uses it, it remains, like Microsoft, largely dumpy, dumbed-down, glitchy, and lame.]
The next day Karen joined in on the fun and we did touristy things like visiting the lines to see the Statue of Liberty. You see, the Statue of Liberty is one of those attractions where there are lines just to stand in line. We figured that out a little late, as we thought the line to stand in line was actually *The* Line. Boy, were we in for a surprise once we got our tickets to Liberty Island and then had to find the end of the line for the actual ferries.
We walked and walked and walked and walked and walked and walked and walked and walked and walked and walked and walked and walked to get to the end of *The* Line. Here is the magical moment when we found it and Karen was (briefly) the very end of *The* Line.
Doesn't she look happy?
There was much standing and shuffling forward and street musicians of wildly variable talent and hucksters selling cheap crap and airport-level security at the ferry dock. But, eventually, we got there and saw the big green lady. I took many, many touristy pictures which I will not bore you with.
Okay, one.
That night we had plates and plates of delicious dim sum in Chinatown. I would have gotten durien ice cream (it is King of All Fruit, you know) at the local ice cream shoppe next store, too, if they hadn't been sold out of that flavor. Foiled!
That night I went to a (far better) show off-Broadway and met up afterward for drinks with my friend who worked on it, Sarah-The-Stage-Manager (who shouldn't be confused with Emily-The-Stage-Manger, who shouldn't be confused with Emily-The-Actress, who shouldn't be confused with Emily-The-Darren-Wife-And-Belle-Mom, which is something I actually did recently when I texted the wrong Emily by mistake--oops.)
The next day, we took it easy. I ate a delicious melt from a famous cheese shop and we saw The Brother's Bloom (which was good but not as good as Brick).
Then I left for home.
This is at LaGuardia. Actually, neither the packet of air reservations nor the traveler look as dogeared or disheveled as I thought they might at the end. I had a wonderful trip and had been *very* lucky. Indeed, a more superstitious sort might suspect I used up all of my life's remaining good luck during that trip and I would have to tackle my next big undertaking armed only with bad.
(Ominous pause)
But that's next time!
Until then, bookend.
Best,
It is hard to convey...
Wait!
I never talked about my stay in New York, the stop that closed out the Mad Lurch. Oh, hell. Let's try and do this with some alacrity. By now I've done this rap more than a few times in person already, so let's cast our mind back two months, throw up some pictures, and call it a day.
(Speaking of unfinished business from The Mad Lurch, Lindsey pointed out that I should go into The San Francisco Homeless Guy Incident at some point. I will as soon as I can find the right hook. I doubt this entry will provide it, but we'll see.)
I got into New York (Newark, actually) in the evening and was greeted by the inimitable Chris & Karen. With the negligible aid of the worst GPS in the universe, we found our way back to Brooklyn, ate some Mediterranean at the restaurant across the street and I was introduced to Chris & Karen's lovely two-bedroom hallway.
This may sound like I'm slamming it, but I'm not. It was actually very nice (I not only had my own room , but my own bathroom, for God's sake), it was just, well, aggressively longer than it was wide, and I've never quite stayed in anywhere quite like it.
Needless to say, Chris & Karen were lovely hosts. Why, here they are now...
(I should also note that Karen, a professional foodie at this point, makes absolutely delicious vichyssoise. You should always visit them when the food magazine she works for dumps a megaton of free potatoes on them.)
On my first full day in New York, Chris and I walked into Manhattan over the Brooklyn Bridge, which was pleasantly surreal. The last time I entered Manhattan, I was stargated into midtown through the Holland tunnel. Here I crept up on it on my own power. Walking slowly into such a gargantuan edifice, letting the impressive, looming scale build and build until it suddenly melts into mere surroundings personalized the city for me and made it all feel more real.
As did the overpriced, but yummy, hamburgers.
This is the Shake Shack, a local fixture, located in a small park somewhere in midtown. (Disclaimer: No shakes were consumed.)
But it was still yummy.
See?
You know, in retrospect my entire trip seemed to consist mostly of thumbs-up and eating.
Anyway, as sunny as it looks it those pics, as the afternoon wore on, the weather started to turn. I was meeting Miranda-From-China in Times Square for dinner and a Broadway show (she had free tickets). By the time Chris and I got there, one end of the street had blue skies, while the other was darkening fast.
Indeed, one of my favorite moments of this leg of the trip was standing in the middle of Times Square, surrounded by thousands of people, when a sharp boom of thunder suddenly echoed through the concrete and steel canyons, and all those thousands of people let out a spontaneous, worried, "Oooooooooo" in unison.
This was followed, obviously, by a quick summer downpour. As Chris and I hid under a nearby awning, we watched with wonder at how quickly Times Square, one of the most crowded places in the U.S., could empty out utterly. As the storm raged, it was like the city was on pause, as everyone huddled under cover, the guys scalping tickets to Broadways shows leading sing-alongs, and everyone waiting for both the rain and the sing-along to pass.
Eventually, I found Miranda-From-China. We had dinner, met up with a couple more of her friends, including the American correspondent for China's national television network. Nice guy. He was deeply embarrassed when Miranda told me that I as sitting next to the most famous face in Chinatown and one also known by *billions* on the other side of the planet. Chatting with him in the theater before the deeply terribly Broadway play that Miranda got us into for free (we were overcharged) was far more interesting than the performance, itself.
I won't go into the play, itself, because I've done that bit *a lot* live, and it feels like most of the people reading this have heard it in person. I could be wrong. If there is a overwhelming groundswell of desire for me to go through the (only almost) hilariously awful experience that was Irena's Vow on here, that's what the comments section is for.
[Which leads us to the question of who reads Livejournal, period, these days. There is no use debating the fact that Facebook has won this fight hands down, which is a shame. Facebook is "useful" for the same reason that Microsoft Windows is; because of brute force market penetration only. Aside from the fact that everyone uses it, it remains, like Microsoft, largely dumpy, dumbed-down, glitchy, and lame.]
The next day Karen joined in on the fun and we did touristy things like visiting the lines to see the Statue of Liberty. You see, the Statue of Liberty is one of those attractions where there are lines just to stand in line. We figured that out a little late, as we thought the line to stand in line was actually *The* Line. Boy, were we in for a surprise once we got our tickets to Liberty Island and then had to find the end of the line for the actual ferries.
We walked and walked and walked and walked and walked and walked and walked and walked and walked and walked and walked and walked to get to the end of *The* Line. Here is the magical moment when we found it and Karen was (briefly) the very end of *The* Line.
Doesn't she look happy?
There was much standing and shuffling forward and street musicians of wildly variable talent and hucksters selling cheap crap and airport-level security at the ferry dock. But, eventually, we got there and saw the big green lady. I took many, many touristy pictures which I will not bore you with.
Okay, one.
That night we had plates and plates of delicious dim sum in Chinatown. I would have gotten durien ice cream (it is King of All Fruit, you know) at the local ice cream shoppe next store, too, if they hadn't been sold out of that flavor. Foiled!
That night I went to a (far better) show off-Broadway and met up afterward for drinks with my friend who worked on it, Sarah-The-Stage-Manager (who shouldn't be confused with Emily-The-Stage-Manger, who shouldn't be confused with Emily-The-Actress, who shouldn't be confused with Emily-The-Darren-Wife-And-Belle-Mom, which is something I actually did recently when I texted the wrong Emily by mistake--oops.)
The next day, we took it easy. I ate a delicious melt from a famous cheese shop and we saw The Brother's Bloom (which was good but not as good as Brick).
Then I left for home.
This is at LaGuardia. Actually, neither the packet of air reservations nor the traveler look as dogeared or disheveled as I thought they might at the end. I had a wonderful trip and had been *very* lucky. Indeed, a more superstitious sort might suspect I used up all of my life's remaining good luck during that trip and I would have to tackle my next big undertaking armed only with bad.
(Ominous pause)
But that's next time!
Until then, bookend.
Best,