A Brooklyn deli, filled with the following customers, straight out of central casting: 1) A Hispanic mother and her child; 2) A gay couple, huffily demanding to know why they can’t get their paninis made on whole wheat bread; 3) Three firefighters; 4) A loud-mouth man on the phone, shouting in his New York accent, “Joey and Tommy lost me my job! You know, my job? The thing I make cash from?”
The gayest bar I have ever seen in my life, in the center of Chelsea. We feared a reverse hate crime against straight people.
Buying wine at a store offering two-for-$10 specials, only to return an hour later for more wine, our teeth stained purple, giggling like naughty children.
A puppy store filled with the most adorably heartbreaking puppy mill-creations you’ve ever seen.
Beautiful, god-like people in regular parts of Manhattan; fat, slovenly people in touristy parts of Manhattan. (YES, I’M ALREADY A NEW YORK SNOB.)
Several days with my old roommate and dearest biddy Nora, as if nothing had changed in the year since we’d last seen each other. I’d forgotten what it was like to constantly be asked to play games like, “Okay, now you ask me a question,” or, “Let’s pretend like this is Florida!”
Discovering - through a wonderfully oblique conversation - Nora’s roommate is my future cousin-in-law, of sorts.
Dinner and a strange night out with some of my closest friends, that I don’t see often enough, as well as new friends, one of whom is the daughter of Alan Menken, who was kind enough to tell us all about her father’s various tortoises and the special room they built for them in their home.
My first storm in over two years. I’ve forgotten, living in Portland, that the rest of the world has weather other than sunny and perfect or overcast and bleak. It was beautiful.
Witnessing the mass hysteria that erupts when Radiohead is rumored to be playing a surprise show at a protest.
Witnessing the disappointment and resentment that erupts when Radiohead reveals the surprise show was a hoax.
Discovering that just because bars stay open two hours later in New York, it doesn’t mean you’ll be able to last until then.
Lunch at a Top Chef’s high-concept restaurant with big-time executives, and dinner of heated up Trader Joe’s Indian food with two friends, both of which were equally charming.
Even after a trip to the airport took two hours, due to broken-down trains, diverted subway routes, and multiple transfers, not being remotely ready to say goodbye to New York.