How do you document real life when real life's getting more like fiction each day?
Well. I haven't written in awhile, eh? See, I know I meant to post all sorts of nonsense during March Break, but as it tends to happen, whenever I think I have free time, I really actually get busier. I mean, I've been meaning to make this post for days now, and it's only now, when I'm back at work, that I'm managing to find a second.
Last Sunday, I took off for a few whirlwind days in NYC with my sister, armed with a guidebook (thank you, manada!) and a folder in which I had bravely plotted everything I wanted to do in my three days there. astormyhaze said it sounded like I had stuff planned for all 24 hours of the day for each day I was there, and indeed, it was true. I had subway maps and routes charted out and I was so darned organized it wasn't even funny! misspaprika would've been proud, I tell you. It was very OCD. My sister was all, "Yeah, I'm just gonna follow you around. As long as you get me to the Go! Team concert on Monday night, I'm cool."
We got to the airport early for the first time in the history of ever, because when one travels with my sister, one is never early. I insisted we had to follow Expedia's instructions and be at Pearson at hour and a half early, so we were. We'd both gotten a combined total of four hours of sleep the night before because we'd left packing until the very last minute, but whatevs. We paid $30 for three sandwiches (I'm not even kidding, yo, but at least two of them were smoked salmon, and therefore yummy and sort of worth it) and sat around eating lunch as we waited to board. Our US Airways flight was on time, and as we boarded, we were like, "Uh, why are we going outside?" It turns out our first plane was a tiny little tin can that seated about twenty people. (In the words of the illustrious LGB, upon seeing a picture of the plane: "What the hell is that? Our van is bigger than that, yo.") It would not have been a fun plane to fly for a person afraid of flying, but I have no fears about flying, so it was awesome because it left exactly on time and landed in Pittsburgh, where we were connecting, early.
The Pittsburgh airport, or what we saw of it, is awesome in all ways. Why? Because it is full of FOOD, my brej, and among this food was the dear departed Auntie Anne's Pretzels. The only branch of Auntie's Anne's in Canada was opened in Scarborough Town Centre two years ago, and Scarberians proved to be too gangsta for delicious pretzels, because it shut down last year and the plans to franchise the deliciousness across the province died with the closure. My sister and I loved Auntie Anne's pretzels, so when we saw them in Pittsburgh, we were crazy delerious with joy. We grabbed fresh, hot pretzels and got onto a slightly larger, less tin-can-ish plane, and one hour and one fake cola claiming to be Coke later, we landed at LaGuardia.
We were shocked beyond belief when we landed in one place and found that all our luggage had arrived with us. This is a very rare thing, as we are not used to traveling without disaster. We congratulated US Airways, not knowing that we'd be cursing them to hell a few days later, and grabbed a cab from the airport to my aunt's house in Elmhurst. The cabbie was uberclueless and was all, "You know where you're going, right?" We're all, "Um, no. We kind of just got here from Canada, yo." Luckily, I had printed out a MapQuest map showing the route from the airport to my aunt's place, so I just handed it to the guy and he followed it. Geez. I should tip myself instead of him.
When we got to my aunt's street, there was some confusion, because the address my mom had written down was 83-50, and it appeared that there was no 83-50 on the street. We tried calling home and no one was picking up, and then we called Mom's cell and she was all partying at Gerard Street (Centre of the Universe Little India) with my other aunt and cousin, and was like, "Uh... maybe it's 83-30?" The shady cab driver was getting seriously impatient and wanted to drop us in the middle of the shady street without us having any idea where we were going, so when we finally figured out that it was 83-30, and he got all annoyed and threw my change at me so that it fell all over the sidewalk and I had to pick it up, I gave him no tip. Bah.
We spent the evening at my aunt and uncle's apartment with my four cousins, all of whom are under the age of six. Four kids under the age of six in a small apartment in NYC, yo. I have no idea how my aunt survives. They're adorable kids, and they went wild with delight at the toys we'd bought them (especially the My Scene doll I bought the oldest one), but I have a feeling that my aunt is going to curse the noises of the Phonics Bus my mom bought the younger ones for the next month or so. The second-youngest, the only boy, speaks his own language and is clearly preparing to join LGB's gang, along with my mini-gangster in T.O., my cousin's six-year-old, who is already getting in trouble for "bullying on the playground" in Grade One. *snikkerz*
Got very little sleep, what with the chorus of crying of all the kiddies, and woke up later than planned the next morning. Said bye to my aunt and the kids and experienced the shadiness of the NYC subway for the first time as we grabbed a train into midtown to our hotel. We had a "Duh!" moment in which we got off the subway and had no idea where our hotel was, even though it was about a one-minute walk away, but found it and were relieved to find that it was not shady. They let us check in two hours later and we stowed our stuff and ran out to shop for three hours.
Our hotel was on 32nd and Broadway, exactly 1.5 seconds away from a subway stop, across the street from Manhattan Mall, and about a ten-minute walk from Times Square. Prime location, yo. We hit some of the stores around the area, including Macy's, Express, H&M, Steve Madden, Nine West, and Victoria's Secret, and ate a pretzel from a street vendor, which was very disappointing - New York pretzels taste like oversalted, oversized buns instead of the yumminess of Auntie Anne's. We then walked up to Times Square, where we spotted some members of da gang, and looked for some hats and anti-Bush shirts to pick up items on the detailed list LGB had made for us, which featured such things as "stuff from the street", "fake Jacob's watch" and "good shirts, XXL (maybe fake LaCoste)." *laffing muchly* I then drooled in the Times Square Sephora for awhile, but realized we were running out of time and decided that I could buy most of the stuff there at the Sephora here (or at Holt's, for the lines our Sephora doesn't carry) when I got home.
Our first trip to Times Square was also our first NYC encounter with the illustrious Frankie J. I know you're all now like, "WTF? Frankie who?" Frankie J, my brej, greaseball popstar extraordinaire. A few years ago, this illustrious "star" had a "hit" song that J. Lo wannabe sister was muchly in love with. She thought Frankie J was da bomb. LGB did not agree with this assessment of Frankie J. He thought Frankie J was the ultimate wanksta, and made fun of him by calling him, "Frankeej" (as in Frankiej all together). Because of this, for the longest time, I actually thought the guy was really called Frankiej, because it sounded like something a pretentious greaseball wanksta would call himself. Anyhow, we were all convinced that Frankiej had dropped off the face of the musical planet, until we were greeted by an ENORMOUS poster of Frankiej in the Virgin Megastore in Times Square, declaring that his new hit Obsession (No Es Amor) was "New York's favourite song!" We laffed hysterically at this, and it became an NYC running joke - every time we'd get lost or something, we'd say, very solemnly, "Why? Because of Frankiej." More on Frankiej later.
We then had to hightail it back to the hotel, as we were running late to meet Tab's brej Danielle for dinner. Tab and Danielle were going to the Mercury Lounge to see British hipsters The Go! Team play - this was, in fact, the idea that got our trip to NYC started, as sis had casually mentioned, "The Go! Team are playing in NYC! I wanna go!" and I was like, "That's during my break. Let's go!" I dropped Tab off at the Mercury Lounge since she had no clue where she was going so I could say hi to Danielle, and then I ran off in the opposite direction to get to the Nederlander Theatre on time to see... Rent!
Heh. SHADY!!
I was quickly realizing that NYC cabbies are among the rudest people in the world. I got in the cab and told the guy I had to go to the Nederlander, hoping he'd know where it was. When he was like, "Where the hell is that?" I told him it was on Broadway in the theatre district, since I didn't have an exact address. He pretends to be totally clueless and is all, "Where on Broadway?" I'm like, "Where all the theatres are, doofus!" Finally I was all, "Uh... Broadway and 42nd street?", hoping I was remembering correctly, and thinking he'd let me point out the theatre when we got there. Instead, as we drove by, I was looking around for the Rent marquee, and he's all, "This is Broadway and 42nd. Get out." I gave this guy only $1 tip, to add insult to injury. Dude. I could give these cabbies head ingury very easy. It's a blood showdown!
I got minorly lost again and had to ask a guy at the theatre where The Lion King was playing where the Nederlander was. He was a lot more helpful than the stupid cabbie and showed me exactly where I had to go. When I got to the theatre, I nearly died of joy when I saw the cast list and realized that DREW LACHEY WAS NOT THERE. I know most of you are now going, "WTF? Why would Nick Lachey's brother be there??" Let me tell you, brej. When I was trying to decide what to see while in NYC, I was torn between seeing Little Women and seeing Rent for the fifth time. Then I went to the official Rent website and emblazoned across it was "DREW LACHEY STARS AS MARK IN RENT!" I was like, "WTF?? NOOOOO!" Mark (the character) is my boyfriend! (So dorky and artsy and scarf-wearing and adorable and EEEE!) Drew Lachey and Joey Fatone are not allowed to play Mark, ever! This almost made me decide to see something else instead (since it turns out Little Women doesn't play on Mondays), but I decided that my love for Rent was strong enough to brave the horrors of Drew Lachey. But clearly, he heard I was coming, because he left the cast about a week before I came! And this cuteish and probably possibly gay boy was playing Mark instead! Wheeee!
The musical was overall awesomeness and reminded me of my undying love for Rent. Frenchie Davis of AI2 infamy was one of the swing members of the cast and was very impressive, especially in the Seasons of Love solo. Cary Shields, who played Roger, amused me muchly because he was a total overactor in the style of most guys who are trained in musical theatre, and every time he was supposed to be "emotional" he would make really gay frustrated gestures. I totally want to write Mark/Roger slash. In fact, I think I will! Jay, who played Mark, was cute because Mark is always cute when not played by awful ex-boyband members, but he's no Chad Richardson. Overall there was much love and had I not already had tickets to see Feist the next night, I would've gone right back. Rent 4EVA!!!!1one!
I knew my sister wasn't going to get back to the hotel until 1 a.m.-ish, and it was only 11ish by then, so I decided to be stupid brave and wander around Times Square at night on my own. I went into a McDonald's and marveled over how highway-robbery-ish the prices in NYC were, and bought McDonuts, in honour of LGB, who adores small carnivalesque donuts. I then peered into the windows of the Sanrio store (with plans to return the next day when it was open) and then spent $1 on twenty minutes of online time at a really shady Internet café. And no, I did not get mugged, shot, propositioned, or anything else shady. I even took the subway home because it was only two stops away and I didn't feel like dealing with idiot cabbies, and all was well and safe, even after I wandered the Koreatown area the hotel was in looking for a 24 hour store to buy food, and found a Korean grocery where the closest thing I could find to non-Asian food was a can of Pringles and a Coke.
On TV back at the hotel were awesome reruns of Fresh Prince and Boy Meets World. I decided once again that BMW was clearly one of the best shows ever, because they were showing Part One of the series finale, and it was all flashbacks and stuff and wow, teh awesomeness fo' reals, as ninja_sheep would say. Tab came home around 12:45 and we watched the rest of BMW and ate Pringles, and then went to bed with me warning her that she had to wake up early because WE WERE ON A SCHEDULE, DAMMIT, and had to stick to it!
And so ended Day Two.
The miracles continued as my sister actually woke up pseudo on-time and we managed to get out of the hotel only one hour off schedule. I had the day planned in a way that tried to cram two days worth of things to do and see into one day. We started up at 60th street at the awesome, amazing Dylan's Candy Bar, a huge, two-floor candy store that sells everything from actual candy (M&M's in 21 colours!) to candy-themed clothing and candy-flavoured makeup. I bought a pretty rainbow-coloured tin that you could fill with any loose candy in the store for $11.99, and filled it with aforementioned 21 colours of M&Ms, sour Jelly Bellys, Tart ‘n' Tinys, sour gummies, sour tearjerkers (are you sensing a theme of sourness?), and all sorts of stuff until the lid barely fit on. This lovely tin met a sad end, I am sorry to tell you, but you can read the Sad Tale of the Tin later in this story. We also noticed that there was a little parlour at the back of the store that sold hot chocolate, fudge, ice cream sundaes, and about twenty different kinds of delicious-looking cupcakes, and despite the fact that the cupcakes were $3.99 US each, we decided we had to buy a few. We settled on a pretty pink strawberry buttercream and a chocolate cupcake topped with crumbled Heath bar. We ate them later that night and they were worth the price, yo. They were among the best cupcakes I've ever eaten and I want to go back and buy a dozen more and eat them all.
We continued our nostalgia trip by visiting the famous FAO Schwartz, where we oohed and aahed at the menagerie of life-sized stuffed animals, the larger-than-human-sized floor piano, and the doll displays. foodsthatcan, I wanted to take pictures of the doll displays for you - Tonner dolls, Taylor Wentworth dolls, and of course, Barbies - the Legolas and Galadriel dolls were hilarious - but every time I tried to stop to take a picture, some kids would come by and I'd be worried about getting run over by the walking traffic. We ended up buying a little stuffed dog for J. Lo wannabe sister, who was obsessed with a stuffed Gund dog when she was little, and then wandered the area a bit, ogling Bloomingdale's and buying embroidered velvet cushion covers for Mom in a craft store.
Next stop was back at Times Square to meet our brej Zoe, formerly of the Centre of the Universe, for lunch. She took us to a sandwich and salad chain called Costi where they made yummy sandwiches on homemade flatbread. Their mango smoothies were also excellent. We ate lunch in Bryant Park while Tab and Zoe griped and complained about how it was near impossible to make a decent living as a writer and I mostly tuned out and watched the kids on the nearby carousel.
Zoe had to go back to work, so I dragged Tab back into Times Square so we could go to the Sanrio store (where I proceeded to buy out the store... okay, not really... I only bought five or six things!), and then we went into the Toys R Us to look at the ferris wheel. Didn't have time to ride, but I went into the Barbie section and was tempted to buy things when I realized they were having a Buy One, Get One Free sale for all dolls under $19.99. Tab dragged me out before I could decide. Bah.
Next stop was Union Square and the magnificent Strand used bookstore, a huge multifloor place full of cheap books. I could've happily moved in and lived there for awhile, but on our limited time I only had time to peruse the children's section. There were three full shelves of BSC books, but most of them were stupid newer ones and they didn't have any of the classics I was looking for. I bought two super specials - New York, New York! and California Girls!, and will pass them on to fizzybottlecap once I am done with them. As a side note, Jess found a Quebecois French translation of BSC in Value Village, and did you know in the French-Canadian translations, the girls lived in "Nouvelle" instead of Stoneybrook, and "Sophie" (Stacey) was from Toronto instead of NYC? And d'you know where "Diane" (Dawn) was from? HULL. Yes, my brej... not Vancouver, or even Halifax or something... Hull. BWAHAHA!
Tab dragged me out of The Strand and after stopping to take a picture of LotR Lego figurines at a geeky comic book store, we headed up to Spring and Broadway to shop at Kate Spade, Armani Exchange, Anthropologie, Shu Uemera, and other fun places. We got off one subway stop too early, and ended up in the middle of Chinatown flea markets, or, as LGB would call it, "flea gee on da street." There were fake watches and purses galore. We contemplated buying a fake LoHo purse for J. Lo Wannabe, but decided against it. We then checked the prices on some fake Jacob's watches for LGB, but they were $75. No street goods for him, yo. We walked up the street to A/X and the rest, and then I found KidRobot, an uber-awesome store that Mel referred me to. There were Gloomys in the window! There was a huge shelf full of Gloomys inside! I was in heaven! I bought a pink panda-toned Gloomy and a Gloomy keychain for myself and a different one for Mel, and then bought some small Gloomy-related surprises for some of my other brej. I wanted to buy everything, but it was really expensive, brej. Sadness. My sister was disgusted and said that if I built a shrine to Gloomy, she would never visit me again.
We walked for awhile in search of an Anthropologie store, and when we found it, we decided that fightin_the_law was right about it being a store that was fun to look around, but not to buy things in. Then we headed back to the hotel to get ready to see La Feist.
En route to the venue, we noticed a huge, block-long lineup of people outside of a Tower Records store. I was all, "Hm, I wonder who they're lining up to meet?" And Tab was all, "I know!" Then she solemnly announced, "FRANKIEJ!" So we decided that clearly, Frankiej has taken NYC by storm and has people lining up around the block to meet him, but we're the ones he goes clubbing with at the end of the night. *nods* Actually, we found out later that the people were lined up to meet Ozzy Osbourne. Heh.
Joe's Pub, attached to the famous Public Theatre, was one of the nicest small venues I've ever had the pleasure of seeing a show at. It's a dim-lit, swanky supper club that seats about 200 people, and you get a dinner reservation and can eat while you see a show. Leslie was playing two shows in a row, and we had tickets to both shows. She was in fine form, though she seemed a little nervous off the top of the first set - she made reference to the fact that the last time she was in NYC, two years ago, she played at some dive "for about eight people." Awww. The first set crowd was also very reserved and didn't sing along to anything, even when she tried to get them to. During the "ba da ba da" bit at the end of Mushaboom, she looked around to see if anyone was singing along and caught sight of us in the corner and did a double take. I'm sure she was thinking, "WTF are they doing in NYC?!", and it showed on her face, so it was super amusing.
Our brej Maryann and Dan (a.k.a. Crescent and Frost) joined us for the second set, and OMG, I love them so. They are thoroughly adorable and I wish they lived in T.O. so we could hang out all the time. Maryann was suffering from pretty severe spring allergies and proceeded to go through practically a box of tissue through the show, cracking jokes at her own expense the entire way, and Dan told us of his teaching experiences (he's an Artist in Residence in various NYC schools), including a time when a teacher made him teach her class "that song from Rent with all the numbers in it, a hundred million thousand minutes or something..." (*snikkerz*). It was their first time seeing Feist and they were instantly enamoured with her. I'm telling you, people - if you haven't heard of Leslie Feist, you will hear of her within 365 days. I told foodsthatcan that within a year, Americans will have heard of her, and I'm sticking to my prediction. I am psykik and speek truth alwayz. You will see! The lighting was crap, so the pictures are, too:
We stuck around for a bit after the show and got to go backstage to talk to Leslie. I haven't spoken to her in at least two years, so I was pretty surprised she remembered me, but she did. She told us about her recent adventures at the South By Southwest festival in Austin and whined about how much press she has to do in L.A. the next day and was generally adorably amusing, as usual. No diva tendencies in this girl, that's fo' sho. We had to leave because they were kicking her out of her dressing room to make way for some African tribal group that was playing a late show at the venue, so we said goodbye and made our way back to the hotel (after finding a halal shawarma place and picking up food, because finding halal meat after being forced into vegetarianism for a few days is awesome).
Back at the hotel, the second part of the Boy Meets World series finale was on. I may have cried a bit at the part where Mr. Feeney says, "I love you all" to the empty classroom, because I'm secretly a sap. Then, there were creepy old X-Files reruns on, so we watched those while packing and then went to bed way too late.
I woke up way too early because our flight was leaving at 1 p.m., and I wanted to leave for the airport at 10:30 to be on the safe side. Before that, though, I wanted to make a trip to Target, because even though the company gives money to eville Republican fascists and therefore I should really never shop there, I can't resist the place. There are no Targets in the main city, so I took a subway to Brooklyn to a shady mall called Atlantic Terminal. The area was super sketch, and the only people in the mall seemed to be heading directly for the Target.
The problems began when my cell phone rang as I headed into the Target. I was all, "Who the eff is calling me from a 1-800 number while I'm in NYC?" Turns out it was US Airways, and they told me our flight home had been cancelled. I was like, "WHAT?!", but then they said they could put us on a flight that flew to Philly at 3:30 and then connected with a flight to T.O. there. I was all, "Hey, awesome. This means more shopping time for me!", so I told them to get us on the flight and then called Tab to fill her in on the new plans. She decided she wanted to go back to Armani Exchange to buy a jacket, so I told her I'd call her when I was leaving Tarzhay and she could meet me at Prince Station, since it was on my way back.
Spent about an hour in Tarzhay and was a little disappointed because the store was pretty picked over, so most of the cute Isaac Mizrahi and Cynthia Rowley stuff was gone. I did score three cute (and super-cheap!) purses and a pair of pink ballet slippers, and bought some Sonia Kashuk makeup (they totally need to carry her line in Canada!). I also noticed, in the music section, that the new CD by a certain Frankiej was on sale for $8.88, so I promptly bought it for J.Lo Wannabe in order to preserve the joke 4EVA. Then I headed towards Prince Station to meet my sister, and noticed it had started to rain. Little did I know that the rain was an omen that disaster was about to begin.
As I stepped out of the subway, my cell started ringing again, and I was all, "What now?!" Guess what? The flight they'd booked us on to replace our original (cancelled) flight was now cancelled! I was like, "WTF?!!!11one!" The woman was all, "Everything's booked, sorry, we can't get you out today!" And I was like, "Um, LIKE HELL YOU CAN'T." So she hemmed and hawed and was like, "Well, I can see if there's room on the Air Canada 4:30 and get your ticket transferred to them." I'm like, "YES DO IT NOW." So she put me on hold for a few minutes as my sister appeared and showed me her new Armani purse, and when she came back on the line, she told us we were booked on the Air Canada 4:30.
Sounds like all was well? Oh, no. No sirree! When we got back to the hotel, we had to stop at the subway station to take pictures of da b-boyz, standing in their b-boy stance (*/K-Os*):
Then we stopped at this bagel place/Korean buffet (only in NYC!) because Tab insisted that we had to get bagel and lox before leaving the city. This would've been fine, if she hadn't decided she also had to have mashed potatoes, and, klutz that she is, ladled gravy from the buffet onto her new purse instead of onto the potatoes. This delayed us by twenty full minutes as she had to rush out, buy club soda, clean her purse, and dry it with a bathroom hand dryer. By the time this was done to her satisfaction, the rain had turned into freezing rain and we had to wait over ten minutes for the doorman to get us a cab. The cabbie was all, "Your flight is at 4:30? Oh, you're not going to make it, but it'll probably be delayed, anyhow." I was like, "WHAAAAT?!" and proceeded to stress the entire way to LaGuardia. It didn't help that the driver was making turns that were making me physically ill. He actually got us to the airport with 45 minutes to spare, but I felt ready to keel over and die.
The troubles continued at the US Airways booth, when the girl there told us she couldn't find our names in the computer. After a moment of panic, she found us and told us to go over to the international terminal to the Air Canada booth. We found the shuttle bus, but it didn't seem to be coming, so we tried to grab a cab to the next terminal. Some rudeass cab dispatcher wouldn't let us have one and wasted another ten minutes of our time by insisting the shuttle was coming. We ran like crazies to the Air Canada counter, and the girl there is all, "Oh, you're not on this flight." I was like, "WHAT THE $#%$ DO YOU MEAN WE'RE NOT ON THIS FLIGHT?!" And she's all, "Oh, you're on standby. Everyone's on standby, and the flight is delayed, anyhow." So I'm all, "Do you think we'll get onto the plane?" And she's like, "Well, there's a flight to Toronto almost every hour. I guess you'll get home tonight." GAAAAH!
We went through customs and all and got to the Air Canada gate, where there was total chaos. An Air Canada dude with a Paul Reiser New Yawk accent was getting swarmed with questions by annoyed Canadians and was being totally dismissive of everyone's problems. The 4:30 plane ended up coming in at 6:30, and guess what? We weren't on it! And guess what else? Five minutes after it left, we went to harass the Paul Reiser guy about getting us on the next flight, and he's all, "Oh, I recognize your last name. You were reserved on the last flight. Why didn't you go?" #$!@#@#!!@#$$! It turns out that there was a delay in connection between the information on the US Airways computer system and the Air Canada system, so that when we checked our bags and stuff, the reservation hadn't gotten to the Air Canada computers, but by the time the flight actually left, it was there, and given away since we didn't show up to claim it.
At this point, I gave up all hope and was like, "I don't care, yo, as long as we get home some time tonight and don't have to stay in the airport overnight, WHATEVS." The next flight that was supposed to be the 6:30 came at close to 9, and we weren't on it. The 6:45 came at 9:30 and was promptly re-routed to Montreal, since the pilot of the Montreal original flight refused to fly in the poor weather conditions. Finally, some time close to 11 p.m., our names were called and I nearly cried with relief. Our plane, which was supposed to be the 7:30, got in at 11:15, and by the time it was de-iced and we actually took off, it was close to 1 a.m. We got home after 2 in the morning. We blamed the entire thing, naturally, on Frankiej.
Now you're thinking, "Well, at least they got home and could go sleep off their ordeal." NOPE! The Travel Gods don't like us, clearly, because just when I was sarcastically saying, "Just watch our bags not show up now!", three of our bags came around the baggage carousel, and one was missing. It just happened to be the one with all my new clothes and crap in it. It also happened to be the bag in which I'd stowed the Frankie J CD, so as usual, everything can be blamed on Frankiej. Exhausted beyond belief, I had to join a lineup of similarly disgruntled, tired passengers who were also missing their bags. Fortunately, I was one of the lucky ones, because when the guy at the desk punched my baggage check number into the computer, it turns out the missing bag was on the next flight into T.O., which was set to arrive half an hour later. We decided to just sit it out, and about 45 minutes later, we had the missing bag and were able to get a cab home.
I slept until about 6 p.m. the next day, and then the sad homecoming tale ended sadly as I realized that US customs had confiscated my delicious tin of candy from Dylan's. The duffle bag I'd packed it in was all messed up and the candy was the only thing missing, so I figure they confiscated it because you aren't supposed to travel with loose food. LGB is convinced my bags were physically inspected both ways because of the last name on the tag, "Cuz American airport people are racist, yo!", so to test the theory, I'm going to write "Jane Smith" above my address on my luggage labels next time I travel to the US.
Anyhow, despite the travel woes, the trip was loads of fun, and I must go back to NYC ASAP. I could never live there, ever, and some of the shadiness there really made me see why my beautiful city is called "Toronto the Good", but it's a great place to visit. Also, I need to see Rent again! Wheeee!
I have many other things to post about, including Theresa's concert, the Danny Michel show astormyhaze, fizzybottlecap and I went to last weekend, the Kalan concert at Massey Hall messynessy and I will be attending tonight, endless rehearsals for The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, and how I've been guiltily loving this season of The West Wing, but that will have to wait for another time. Au revoir, brej!
Last Sunday, I took off for a few whirlwind days in NYC with my sister, armed with a guidebook (thank you, manada!) and a folder in which I had bravely plotted everything I wanted to do in my three days there. astormyhaze said it sounded like I had stuff planned for all 24 hours of the day for each day I was there, and indeed, it was true. I had subway maps and routes charted out and I was so darned organized it wasn't even funny! misspaprika would've been proud, I tell you. It was very OCD. My sister was all, "Yeah, I'm just gonna follow you around. As long as you get me to the Go! Team concert on Monday night, I'm cool."
We got to the airport early for the first time in the history of ever, because when one travels with my sister, one is never early. I insisted we had to follow Expedia's instructions and be at Pearson at hour and a half early, so we were. We'd both gotten a combined total of four hours of sleep the night before because we'd left packing until the very last minute, but whatevs. We paid $30 for three sandwiches (I'm not even kidding, yo, but at least two of them were smoked salmon, and therefore yummy and sort of worth it) and sat around eating lunch as we waited to board. Our US Airways flight was on time, and as we boarded, we were like, "Uh, why are we going outside?" It turns out our first plane was a tiny little tin can that seated about twenty people. (In the words of the illustrious LGB, upon seeing a picture of the plane: "What the hell is that? Our van is bigger than that, yo.") It would not have been a fun plane to fly for a person afraid of flying, but I have no fears about flying, so it was awesome because it left exactly on time and landed in Pittsburgh, where we were connecting, early.
The Pittsburgh airport, or what we saw of it, is awesome in all ways. Why? Because it is full of FOOD, my brej, and among this food was the dear departed Auntie Anne's Pretzels. The only branch of Auntie's Anne's in Canada was opened in Scarborough Town Centre two years ago, and Scarberians proved to be too gangsta for delicious pretzels, because it shut down last year and the plans to franchise the deliciousness across the province died with the closure. My sister and I loved Auntie Anne's pretzels, so when we saw them in Pittsburgh, we were crazy delerious with joy. We grabbed fresh, hot pretzels and got onto a slightly larger, less tin-can-ish plane, and one hour and one fake cola claiming to be Coke later, we landed at LaGuardia.
We were shocked beyond belief when we landed in one place and found that all our luggage had arrived with us. This is a very rare thing, as we are not used to traveling without disaster. We congratulated US Airways, not knowing that we'd be cursing them to hell a few days later, and grabbed a cab from the airport to my aunt's house in Elmhurst. The cabbie was uberclueless and was all, "You know where you're going, right?" We're all, "Um, no. We kind of just got here from Canada, yo." Luckily, I had printed out a MapQuest map showing the route from the airport to my aunt's place, so I just handed it to the guy and he followed it. Geez. I should tip myself instead of him.
When we got to my aunt's street, there was some confusion, because the address my mom had written down was 83-50, and it appeared that there was no 83-50 on the street. We tried calling home and no one was picking up, and then we called Mom's cell and she was all partying at Gerard Street (Centre of the Universe Little India) with my other aunt and cousin, and was like, "Uh... maybe it's 83-30?" The shady cab driver was getting seriously impatient and wanted to drop us in the middle of the shady street without us having any idea where we were going, so when we finally figured out that it was 83-30, and he got all annoyed and threw my change at me so that it fell all over the sidewalk and I had to pick it up, I gave him no tip. Bah.
We spent the evening at my aunt and uncle's apartment with my four cousins, all of whom are under the age of six. Four kids under the age of six in a small apartment in NYC, yo. I have no idea how my aunt survives. They're adorable kids, and they went wild with delight at the toys we'd bought them (especially the My Scene doll I bought the oldest one), but I have a feeling that my aunt is going to curse the noises of the Phonics Bus my mom bought the younger ones for the next month or so. The second-youngest, the only boy, speaks his own language and is clearly preparing to join LGB's gang, along with my mini-gangster in T.O., my cousin's six-year-old, who is already getting in trouble for "bullying on the playground" in Grade One. *snikkerz*
Got very little sleep, what with the chorus of crying of all the kiddies, and woke up later than planned the next morning. Said bye to my aunt and the kids and experienced the shadiness of the NYC subway for the first time as we grabbed a train into midtown to our hotel. We had a "Duh!" moment in which we got off the subway and had no idea where our hotel was, even though it was about a one-minute walk away, but found it and were relieved to find that it was not shady. They let us check in two hours later and we stowed our stuff and ran out to shop for three hours.
Our hotel was on 32nd and Broadway, exactly 1.5 seconds away from a subway stop, across the street from Manhattan Mall, and about a ten-minute walk from Times Square. Prime location, yo. We hit some of the stores around the area, including Macy's, Express, H&M, Steve Madden, Nine West, and Victoria's Secret, and ate a pretzel from a street vendor, which was very disappointing - New York pretzels taste like oversalted, oversized buns instead of the yumminess of Auntie Anne's. We then walked up to Times Square, where we spotted some members of da gang, and looked for some hats and anti-Bush shirts to pick up items on the detailed list LGB had made for us, which featured such things as "stuff from the street", "fake Jacob's watch" and "good shirts, XXL (maybe fake LaCoste)." *laffing muchly* I then drooled in the Times Square Sephora for awhile, but realized we were running out of time and decided that I could buy most of the stuff there at the Sephora here (or at Holt's, for the lines our Sephora doesn't carry) when I got home.
Our first trip to Times Square was also our first NYC encounter with the illustrious Frankie J. I know you're all now like, "WTF? Frankie who?" Frankie J, my brej, greaseball popstar extraordinaire. A few years ago, this illustrious "star" had a "hit" song that J. Lo wannabe sister was muchly in love with. She thought Frankie J was da bomb. LGB did not agree with this assessment of Frankie J. He thought Frankie J was the ultimate wanksta, and made fun of him by calling him, "Frankeej" (as in Frankiej all together). Because of this, for the longest time, I actually thought the guy was really called Frankiej, because it sounded like something a pretentious greaseball wanksta would call himself. Anyhow, we were all convinced that Frankiej had dropped off the face of the musical planet, until we were greeted by an ENORMOUS poster of Frankiej in the Virgin Megastore in Times Square, declaring that his new hit Obsession (No Es Amor) was "New York's favourite song!" We laffed hysterically at this, and it became an NYC running joke - every time we'd get lost or something, we'd say, very solemnly, "Why? Because of Frankiej." More on Frankiej later.
We then had to hightail it back to the hotel, as we were running late to meet Tab's brej Danielle for dinner. Tab and Danielle were going to the Mercury Lounge to see British hipsters The Go! Team play - this was, in fact, the idea that got our trip to NYC started, as sis had casually mentioned, "The Go! Team are playing in NYC! I wanna go!" and I was like, "That's during my break. Let's go!" I dropped Tab off at the Mercury Lounge since she had no clue where she was going so I could say hi to Danielle, and then I ran off in the opposite direction to get to the Nederlander Theatre on time to see... Rent!
Heh. SHADY!!
I was quickly realizing that NYC cabbies are among the rudest people in the world. I got in the cab and told the guy I had to go to the Nederlander, hoping he'd know where it was. When he was like, "Where the hell is that?" I told him it was on Broadway in the theatre district, since I didn't have an exact address. He pretends to be totally clueless and is all, "Where on Broadway?" I'm like, "Where all the theatres are, doofus!" Finally I was all, "Uh... Broadway and 42nd street?", hoping I was remembering correctly, and thinking he'd let me point out the theatre when we got there. Instead, as we drove by, I was looking around for the Rent marquee, and he's all, "This is Broadway and 42nd. Get out." I gave this guy only $1 tip, to add insult to injury. Dude. I could give these cabbies head ingury very easy. It's a blood showdown!
I got minorly lost again and had to ask a guy at the theatre where The Lion King was playing where the Nederlander was. He was a lot more helpful than the stupid cabbie and showed me exactly where I had to go. When I got to the theatre, I nearly died of joy when I saw the cast list and realized that DREW LACHEY WAS NOT THERE. I know most of you are now going, "WTF? Why would Nick Lachey's brother be there??" Let me tell you, brej. When I was trying to decide what to see while in NYC, I was torn between seeing Little Women and seeing Rent for the fifth time. Then I went to the official Rent website and emblazoned across it was "DREW LACHEY STARS AS MARK IN RENT!" I was like, "WTF?? NOOOOO!" Mark (the character) is my boyfriend! (So dorky and artsy and scarf-wearing and adorable and EEEE!) Drew Lachey and Joey Fatone are not allowed to play Mark, ever! This almost made me decide to see something else instead (since it turns out Little Women doesn't play on Mondays), but I decided that my love for Rent was strong enough to brave the horrors of Drew Lachey. But clearly, he heard I was coming, because he left the cast about a week before I came! And this cuteish and probably possibly gay boy was playing Mark instead! Wheeee!
The musical was overall awesomeness and reminded me of my undying love for Rent. Frenchie Davis of AI2 infamy was one of the swing members of the cast and was very impressive, especially in the Seasons of Love solo. Cary Shields, who played Roger, amused me muchly because he was a total overactor in the style of most guys who are trained in musical theatre, and every time he was supposed to be "emotional" he would make really gay frustrated gestures. I totally want to write Mark/Roger slash. In fact, I think I will! Jay, who played Mark, was cute because Mark is always cute when not played by awful ex-boyband members, but he's no Chad Richardson. Overall there was much love and had I not already had tickets to see Feist the next night, I would've gone right back. Rent 4EVA!!!!1one!
I knew my sister wasn't going to get back to the hotel until 1 a.m.-ish, and it was only 11ish by then, so I decided to be stupid brave and wander around Times Square at night on my own. I went into a McDonald's and marveled over how highway-robbery-ish the prices in NYC were, and bought McDonuts, in honour of LGB, who adores small carnivalesque donuts. I then peered into the windows of the Sanrio store (with plans to return the next day when it was open) and then spent $1 on twenty minutes of online time at a really shady Internet café. And no, I did not get mugged, shot, propositioned, or anything else shady. I even took the subway home because it was only two stops away and I didn't feel like dealing with idiot cabbies, and all was well and safe, even after I wandered the Koreatown area the hotel was in looking for a 24 hour store to buy food, and found a Korean grocery where the closest thing I could find to non-Asian food was a can of Pringles and a Coke.
On TV back at the hotel were awesome reruns of Fresh Prince and Boy Meets World. I decided once again that BMW was clearly one of the best shows ever, because they were showing Part One of the series finale, and it was all flashbacks and stuff and wow, teh awesomeness fo' reals, as ninja_sheep would say. Tab came home around 12:45 and we watched the rest of BMW and ate Pringles, and then went to bed with me warning her that she had to wake up early because WE WERE ON A SCHEDULE, DAMMIT, and had to stick to it!
And so ended Day Two.
The miracles continued as my sister actually woke up pseudo on-time and we managed to get out of the hotel only one hour off schedule. I had the day planned in a way that tried to cram two days worth of things to do and see into one day. We started up at 60th street at the awesome, amazing Dylan's Candy Bar, a huge, two-floor candy store that sells everything from actual candy (M&M's in 21 colours!) to candy-themed clothing and candy-flavoured makeup. I bought a pretty rainbow-coloured tin that you could fill with any loose candy in the store for $11.99, and filled it with aforementioned 21 colours of M&Ms, sour Jelly Bellys, Tart ‘n' Tinys, sour gummies, sour tearjerkers (are you sensing a theme of sourness?), and all sorts of stuff until the lid barely fit on. This lovely tin met a sad end, I am sorry to tell you, but you can read the Sad Tale of the Tin later in this story. We also noticed that there was a little parlour at the back of the store that sold hot chocolate, fudge, ice cream sundaes, and about twenty different kinds of delicious-looking cupcakes, and despite the fact that the cupcakes were $3.99 US each, we decided we had to buy a few. We settled on a pretty pink strawberry buttercream and a chocolate cupcake topped with crumbled Heath bar. We ate them later that night and they were worth the price, yo. They were among the best cupcakes I've ever eaten and I want to go back and buy a dozen more and eat them all.
We continued our nostalgia trip by visiting the famous FAO Schwartz, where we oohed and aahed at the menagerie of life-sized stuffed animals, the larger-than-human-sized floor piano, and the doll displays. foodsthatcan, I wanted to take pictures of the doll displays for you - Tonner dolls, Taylor Wentworth dolls, and of course, Barbies - the Legolas and Galadriel dolls were hilarious - but every time I tried to stop to take a picture, some kids would come by and I'd be worried about getting run over by the walking traffic. We ended up buying a little stuffed dog for J. Lo wannabe sister, who was obsessed with a stuffed Gund dog when she was little, and then wandered the area a bit, ogling Bloomingdale's and buying embroidered velvet cushion covers for Mom in a craft store.
Next stop was back at Times Square to meet our brej Zoe, formerly of the Centre of the Universe, for lunch. She took us to a sandwich and salad chain called Costi where they made yummy sandwiches on homemade flatbread. Their mango smoothies were also excellent. We ate lunch in Bryant Park while Tab and Zoe griped and complained about how it was near impossible to make a decent living as a writer and I mostly tuned out and watched the kids on the nearby carousel.
Zoe had to go back to work, so I dragged Tab back into Times Square so we could go to the Sanrio store (where I proceeded to buy out the store... okay, not really... I only bought five or six things!), and then we went into the Toys R Us to look at the ferris wheel. Didn't have time to ride, but I went into the Barbie section and was tempted to buy things when I realized they were having a Buy One, Get One Free sale for all dolls under $19.99. Tab dragged me out before I could decide. Bah.
Next stop was Union Square and the magnificent Strand used bookstore, a huge multifloor place full of cheap books. I could've happily moved in and lived there for awhile, but on our limited time I only had time to peruse the children's section. There were three full shelves of BSC books, but most of them were stupid newer ones and they didn't have any of the classics I was looking for. I bought two super specials - New York, New York! and California Girls!, and will pass them on to fizzybottlecap once I am done with them. As a side note, Jess found a Quebecois French translation of BSC in Value Village, and did you know in the French-Canadian translations, the girls lived in "Nouvelle" instead of Stoneybrook, and "Sophie" (Stacey) was from Toronto instead of NYC? And d'you know where "Diane" (Dawn) was from? HULL. Yes, my brej... not Vancouver, or even Halifax or something... Hull. BWAHAHA!
Tab dragged me out of The Strand and after stopping to take a picture of LotR Lego figurines at a geeky comic book store, we headed up to Spring and Broadway to shop at Kate Spade, Armani Exchange, Anthropologie, Shu Uemera, and other fun places. We got off one subway stop too early, and ended up in the middle of Chinatown flea markets, or, as LGB would call it, "flea gee on da street." There were fake watches and purses galore. We contemplated buying a fake LoHo purse for J. Lo Wannabe, but decided against it. We then checked the prices on some fake Jacob's watches for LGB, but they were $75. No street goods for him, yo. We walked up the street to A/X and the rest, and then I found KidRobot, an uber-awesome store that Mel referred me to. There were Gloomys in the window! There was a huge shelf full of Gloomys inside! I was in heaven! I bought a pink panda-toned Gloomy and a Gloomy keychain for myself and a different one for Mel, and then bought some small Gloomy-related surprises for some of my other brej. I wanted to buy everything, but it was really expensive, brej. Sadness. My sister was disgusted and said that if I built a shrine to Gloomy, she would never visit me again.
We walked for awhile in search of an Anthropologie store, and when we found it, we decided that fightin_the_law was right about it being a store that was fun to look around, but not to buy things in. Then we headed back to the hotel to get ready to see La Feist.
En route to the venue, we noticed a huge, block-long lineup of people outside of a Tower Records store. I was all, "Hm, I wonder who they're lining up to meet?" And Tab was all, "I know!" Then she solemnly announced, "FRANKIEJ!" So we decided that clearly, Frankiej has taken NYC by storm and has people lining up around the block to meet him, but we're the ones he goes clubbing with at the end of the night. *nods* Actually, we found out later that the people were lined up to meet Ozzy Osbourne. Heh.
Joe's Pub, attached to the famous Public Theatre, was one of the nicest small venues I've ever had the pleasure of seeing a show at. It's a dim-lit, swanky supper club that seats about 200 people, and you get a dinner reservation and can eat while you see a show. Leslie was playing two shows in a row, and we had tickets to both shows. She was in fine form, though she seemed a little nervous off the top of the first set - she made reference to the fact that the last time she was in NYC, two years ago, she played at some dive "for about eight people." Awww. The first set crowd was also very reserved and didn't sing along to anything, even when she tried to get them to. During the "ba da ba da" bit at the end of Mushaboom, she looked around to see if anyone was singing along and caught sight of us in the corner and did a double take. I'm sure she was thinking, "WTF are they doing in NYC?!", and it showed on her face, so it was super amusing.
Our brej Maryann and Dan (a.k.a. Crescent and Frost) joined us for the second set, and OMG, I love them so. They are thoroughly adorable and I wish they lived in T.O. so we could hang out all the time. Maryann was suffering from pretty severe spring allergies and proceeded to go through practically a box of tissue through the show, cracking jokes at her own expense the entire way, and Dan told us of his teaching experiences (he's an Artist in Residence in various NYC schools), including a time when a teacher made him teach her class "that song from Rent with all the numbers in it, a hundred million thousand minutes or something..." (*snikkerz*). It was their first time seeing Feist and they were instantly enamoured with her. I'm telling you, people - if you haven't heard of Leslie Feist, you will hear of her within 365 days. I told foodsthatcan that within a year, Americans will have heard of her, and I'm sticking to my prediction. I am psykik and speek truth alwayz. You will see! The lighting was crap, so the pictures are, too:
We stuck around for a bit after the show and got to go backstage to talk to Leslie. I haven't spoken to her in at least two years, so I was pretty surprised she remembered me, but she did. She told us about her recent adventures at the South By Southwest festival in Austin and whined about how much press she has to do in L.A. the next day and was generally adorably amusing, as usual. No diva tendencies in this girl, that's fo' sho. We had to leave because they were kicking her out of her dressing room to make way for some African tribal group that was playing a late show at the venue, so we said goodbye and made our way back to the hotel (after finding a halal shawarma place and picking up food, because finding halal meat after being forced into vegetarianism for a few days is awesome).
Back at the hotel, the second part of the Boy Meets World series finale was on. I may have cried a bit at the part where Mr. Feeney says, "I love you all" to the empty classroom, because I'm secretly a sap. Then, there were creepy old X-Files reruns on, so we watched those while packing and then went to bed way too late.
I woke up way too early because our flight was leaving at 1 p.m., and I wanted to leave for the airport at 10:30 to be on the safe side. Before that, though, I wanted to make a trip to Target, because even though the company gives money to eville Republican fascists and therefore I should really never shop there, I can't resist the place. There are no Targets in the main city, so I took a subway to Brooklyn to a shady mall called Atlantic Terminal. The area was super sketch, and the only people in the mall seemed to be heading directly for the Target.
The problems began when my cell phone rang as I headed into the Target. I was all, "Who the eff is calling me from a 1-800 number while I'm in NYC?" Turns out it was US Airways, and they told me our flight home had been cancelled. I was like, "WHAT?!", but then they said they could put us on a flight that flew to Philly at 3:30 and then connected with a flight to T.O. there. I was all, "Hey, awesome. This means more shopping time for me!", so I told them to get us on the flight and then called Tab to fill her in on the new plans. She decided she wanted to go back to Armani Exchange to buy a jacket, so I told her I'd call her when I was leaving Tarzhay and she could meet me at Prince Station, since it was on my way back.
Spent about an hour in Tarzhay and was a little disappointed because the store was pretty picked over, so most of the cute Isaac Mizrahi and Cynthia Rowley stuff was gone. I did score three cute (and super-cheap!) purses and a pair of pink ballet slippers, and bought some Sonia Kashuk makeup (they totally need to carry her line in Canada!). I also noticed, in the music section, that the new CD by a certain Frankiej was on sale for $8.88, so I promptly bought it for J.Lo Wannabe in order to preserve the joke 4EVA. Then I headed towards Prince Station to meet my sister, and noticed it had started to rain. Little did I know that the rain was an omen that disaster was about to begin.
As I stepped out of the subway, my cell started ringing again, and I was all, "What now?!" Guess what? The flight they'd booked us on to replace our original (cancelled) flight was now cancelled! I was like, "WTF?!!!11one!" The woman was all, "Everything's booked, sorry, we can't get you out today!" And I was like, "Um, LIKE HELL YOU CAN'T." So she hemmed and hawed and was like, "Well, I can see if there's room on the Air Canada 4:30 and get your ticket transferred to them." I'm like, "YES DO IT NOW." So she put me on hold for a few minutes as my sister appeared and showed me her new Armani purse, and when she came back on the line, she told us we were booked on the Air Canada 4:30.
Sounds like all was well? Oh, no. No sirree! When we got back to the hotel, we had to stop at the subway station to take pictures of da b-boyz, standing in their b-boy stance (*/K-Os*):
Then we stopped at this bagel place/Korean buffet (only in NYC!) because Tab insisted that we had to get bagel and lox before leaving the city. This would've been fine, if she hadn't decided she also had to have mashed potatoes, and, klutz that she is, ladled gravy from the buffet onto her new purse instead of onto the potatoes. This delayed us by twenty full minutes as she had to rush out, buy club soda, clean her purse, and dry it with a bathroom hand dryer. By the time this was done to her satisfaction, the rain had turned into freezing rain and we had to wait over ten minutes for the doorman to get us a cab. The cabbie was all, "Your flight is at 4:30? Oh, you're not going to make it, but it'll probably be delayed, anyhow." I was like, "WHAAAAT?!" and proceeded to stress the entire way to LaGuardia. It didn't help that the driver was making turns that were making me physically ill. He actually got us to the airport with 45 minutes to spare, but I felt ready to keel over and die.
The troubles continued at the US Airways booth, when the girl there told us she couldn't find our names in the computer. After a moment of panic, she found us and told us to go over to the international terminal to the Air Canada booth. We found the shuttle bus, but it didn't seem to be coming, so we tried to grab a cab to the next terminal. Some rudeass cab dispatcher wouldn't let us have one and wasted another ten minutes of our time by insisting the shuttle was coming. We ran like crazies to the Air Canada counter, and the girl there is all, "Oh, you're not on this flight." I was like, "WHAT THE $#%$ DO YOU MEAN WE'RE NOT ON THIS FLIGHT?!" And she's all, "Oh, you're on standby. Everyone's on standby, and the flight is delayed, anyhow." So I'm all, "Do you think we'll get onto the plane?" And she's like, "Well, there's a flight to Toronto almost every hour. I guess you'll get home tonight." GAAAAH!
We went through customs and all and got to the Air Canada gate, where there was total chaos. An Air Canada dude with a Paul Reiser New Yawk accent was getting swarmed with questions by annoyed Canadians and was being totally dismissive of everyone's problems. The 4:30 plane ended up coming in at 6:30, and guess what? We weren't on it! And guess what else? Five minutes after it left, we went to harass the Paul Reiser guy about getting us on the next flight, and he's all, "Oh, I recognize your last name. You were reserved on the last flight. Why didn't you go?" #$!@#@#!!@#$$! It turns out that there was a delay in connection between the information on the US Airways computer system and the Air Canada system, so that when we checked our bags and stuff, the reservation hadn't gotten to the Air Canada computers, but by the time the flight actually left, it was there, and given away since we didn't show up to claim it.
At this point, I gave up all hope and was like, "I don't care, yo, as long as we get home some time tonight and don't have to stay in the airport overnight, WHATEVS." The next flight that was supposed to be the 6:30 came at close to 9, and we weren't on it. The 6:45 came at 9:30 and was promptly re-routed to Montreal, since the pilot of the Montreal original flight refused to fly in the poor weather conditions. Finally, some time close to 11 p.m., our names were called and I nearly cried with relief. Our plane, which was supposed to be the 7:30, got in at 11:15, and by the time it was de-iced and we actually took off, it was close to 1 a.m. We got home after 2 in the morning. We blamed the entire thing, naturally, on Frankiej.
Now you're thinking, "Well, at least they got home and could go sleep off their ordeal." NOPE! The Travel Gods don't like us, clearly, because just when I was sarcastically saying, "Just watch our bags not show up now!", three of our bags came around the baggage carousel, and one was missing. It just happened to be the one with all my new clothes and crap in it. It also happened to be the bag in which I'd stowed the Frankie J CD, so as usual, everything can be blamed on Frankiej. Exhausted beyond belief, I had to join a lineup of similarly disgruntled, tired passengers who were also missing their bags. Fortunately, I was one of the lucky ones, because when the guy at the desk punched my baggage check number into the computer, it turns out the missing bag was on the next flight into T.O., which was set to arrive half an hour later. We decided to just sit it out, and about 45 minutes later, we had the missing bag and were able to get a cab home.
I slept until about 6 p.m. the next day, and then the sad homecoming tale ended sadly as I realized that US customs had confiscated my delicious tin of candy from Dylan's. The duffle bag I'd packed it in was all messed up and the candy was the only thing missing, so I figure they confiscated it because you aren't supposed to travel with loose food. LGB is convinced my bags were physically inspected both ways because of the last name on the tag, "Cuz American airport people are racist, yo!", so to test the theory, I'm going to write "Jane Smith" above my address on my luggage labels next time I travel to the US.
Anyhow, despite the travel woes, the trip was loads of fun, and I must go back to NYC ASAP. I could never live there, ever, and some of the shadiness there really made me see why my beautiful city is called "Toronto the Good", but it's a great place to visit. Also, I need to see Rent again! Wheeee!
I have many other things to post about, including Theresa's concert, the Danny Michel show astormyhaze, fizzybottlecap and I went to last weekend, the Kalan concert at Massey Hall messynessy and I will be attending tonight, endless rehearsals for The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, and how I've been guiltily loving this season of The West Wing, but that will have to wait for another time. Au revoir, brej!