Wednesday, February 07, 2007

Tuesday, February 6th, New York

I had ambitious plans for Tuesday, and am proud to admit they all worked out. But man, did it kill me.

The past few days have been very cold, and I’ve spend a disproportionate amount of time running around outside. Yeah, public transportation is great here, but sometimes you still need to hustle a few blocks. Or a few dozen.

I started out the day by taking the subway uptown some more, meeting a fellow writer for breakfast spot known for being dog friendly. There were no dogs there, but I have seen quite a few dogs out and about, most wearing silly (but warm) coats. The breakfast was fine, and the writer (whom I had never met) turned out to be a good guy.

After breakfast, I booked it back downtown to where I’m staying to meet Brandon, who was on the UES for an interview. He changed out of his fancy pants and we watched some TV before he left downtown for a meeting. I stuck around a while longer then went downtown as well to meet Brandon (post meeting) and my pal Joe for noodles and pork at Momofuko, a Soho noodle bar. Very tasty and filling.

Even so, Brandon and I went to the esteemed City Bakery for coffee and tarts right after (I had cranberry/almond/caramel, he had some sort of white chocolate/raspberry confection). We stayed there until we were full and warm, then walked briskly downtown some more to a record store, a stop mainly to warm up once again, since it was bitterly cold and very windy. I was starting the feel the full-on effects of the cold, but trooped all the same.

Once we were prepared, mentally and physically, Brandon and I went down to Brooklyn, where he lives. There we had mediocre BBQ ("authentic Brooklyn BBQ," whatever that means), walked a whole lot more, then met Jeff (back from his trip), Fred, and a bunch of others for another friend, Leah’s, going away party. Curious, because the last time I was in New York, maybe two years ago, I went to another going away party for Leah. I guess the girl likes to leave.

It took me forever to make my way all the way back to uptown Manhattan, but I did get another New York story out of the trip. No, not the drug addict nodding off on the F train. I’m talking about the youngish guy who, with no warning, projectile vomited all over his end of the train, and did so for about five minutes in a row. New Yorkers are trained to ignore everyone else on the subway, so it took a few minutes for the sight and smell to radiate out and catch the riders’ attention. Needless to say, they quietly shifted down to the opposite end of the train.

Me feet ached, my nose was stuffed, and I was pooped once again. One day to go!


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