Life in the Big City

It's a pretty well-known fact among my friends that I'm not really a huge fan of big cities. The traffic, the confusion, the maze of sidewalks (or, in the case of Atlanta, interstates) ... it can all be a little much for someone originally from Augusta who now resides in Athens. Sure, I liked Boston, but there was a definitive plan on the table when The Wife and I went so we were able to navigate fairly well (or, should I say, she was able to navigate fairly well and I merely followed her path).

So it's understandable that I was more than a little daunted by an upcoming trip to New York City. I mean, we're talking about the largest city in the country (like almost eight million people). Yet, to my surprise, I was wrong. Incredibly wrong.

New York City is, quite simply, absolutely wonderful. Never once did I feel out-of-place or lost or uncomfortable. Folks kept saying it was overwhelming to see for the first time, but I never got that. Impressive, to be sure, but not overwhelming.

So, with that, I bring you another Safe As Houses's staple ... the running diary.

Sunday, April 23

After what can only be described as one of the most bizarre days in my entire life, Sunday morning mercifully arrived. Saturday was full of borrowed trucks, hauling furniture, lightning damage, knocked out internet access and fatigue. So, short of the wings stripping off of the plane in mid-flight, I figured Sunday couldn't be much worse.

And here's a tip for all of you weary travelers - if you're going somewhere on the East Coast, always fly out of Greenville, S.C. The security checkpoint is easy to navigate, though still thorough and it flies to anywhere you need to go ... typically $100 cheaper than from Atlanta. The breakfast pastries are overpriced and, well, not good in the slightest, so there's that. Still, a pleasant experience.

Our flight departs at 11 a.m., and we arrive in New York a little before 1 p.m. I spend half an hour or so attempting to pop my ears in a dramatic fashion like Kramer attempting to get the water out of his ears in the ill-fated Seinfeld series finale, though with a lot less inappropriate hopping. Thus also begins our first official cab ride in New York.

You hear about the legend of New York taxi drivers, but until you experience being strapped into the back seat of a garish yellow vehicle driven by a man who speaks broken English, racing along intensely crowded streets at 70-plus miles per hour, you really haven't lived at all.

No Tony Danza, but this probably is close to what it's like.

Our first cab ride is everything it's supposed to be. We quickly recognize the lanes drawn in the road are merely suggestions for where to put your car, and the drivers don't take too kindly to these suggestions. We almost get in one accident turning (because you can just turn in any direction from any lane apparently), and I marvel at our cab driver yelling at the other cab driver (both in their native tongues, which happen to be completely different, so neither had any idea what the other was saying).

A little more than $35 later, we reach our destination - the Essex House hotel in Central Park. And, being the rubes we are, we're the only ones who deliberately avoid the bell captain and take our own luggage upstairs. And the room is, quite frankly, spectacular. Not a good view or anything, but pretty large and complete with complimentary robes.

There's time for that later. Hungry now, so The Wife and I, accompanied by her co-worker Lynn and husband Jason, head off into the heart of the Big Apple to find food. And by 'heart of the Big Apple' I mean roughly a block and a half away at Pick-A-Bagel. A definite underwhelming first meal, but hey, the trip's young.

Lynn and Jason opt for a nap, so Julie and I head out to Park Avenue and Madison Avenue and see a bunch of stores we definitely cannot afford. Still, it's mighty cool to be out on Park Avenue. We peruse a couple of street vendors down a connecting street, purchase room temperature Sprites and head back.

We get a phone call from Bill and Sharon (another co-worker of Julie), and since they actually have experience with New York City, we stick to them like glue for the remainder of the trip. For dinner, we head out to Nino's for a spectacular Italian meal. Good bottle of Italian wine, spectacular Tuscan grilled chicken and an old guy who plays the piano (lots of Sinatra) ... yep, this is definitely New York. Back at the hotel bar, I enjoy a glass of port ... though 'enjoy' is a relative term I suppose.

Monday, April 24

Excited about our first full day in New York, Bill, Sharon, The Wife and I fill up a taxi and race (literally) to The Met. Now, being an employee of an art museum, one which is closed on Mondays, I should recognize a pattern. Most museums close on Mondays, The Met included. After standing at the door with puzzled, yet forelorn faces for a few minutes, we decide to travel down to Greenwich Village.

Greenwich Village is a lot like Athens, but with a heck of a lot more delis and tall buildings. We poke around a bit, and then head further south to Soho, which rocks. And the reason Soho rocks so hard is because of Dean & Duluca. Being a fan of food, cooking and what-not, this was recommended by Hillary as a 'must-see' for me. And, as usual, she was indeed correct.

I'm so thoroughly impressed by the store, I call Matt as I stand in the middle of the floor-to-ceiling display of cookbooks only to leave a simple message - 'Standing in a Dean & Deluca in Soho. Spectacular.' The Wife, on the other hand, is oddly fascinated by the seafood selection. She is repeatedly asking me 'have you seen the seafood?' We buy a variety of baked goods - including an Almond Brioche which might just be the best almond-infused bread item I've ever consumed.

For lunch we simply opt for the hot dog stand, though Bill consumes two kabobs of a yet-to-determined meat (actual conversation - Me: 'What is that?' Bill: 'I don't really know. I mean, it's awful red, but I used to eat them all the time.').

We then embark on the longest walk of our life. After taking a cab up to around 34th Street, we proceed to head 20-plus blocks back up to the hotel along 5th Avenue. We go in the Macy's, which is pretty cool. Bill and I head for the bar (because there is one in the basement ... as well as a massive speciality grocery store), while The Wife and Sharon shop for a bit.

As a side note, my mother later would ask me if I spent my Macy's gift card at this store, as if my brain was able to process that.

We swing through places like Brooks Brothers, FAO Schwartz (complete with two teenage girls doing a remarkable reenactment of the scene from Big) and some insanely expensive jewelry store. Though, for The Wife, a must-see is Trump Towers.

Not like we watch The Apprentice or anything, but still.

Back at the hotel, with incredibly tired legs and a sore back, we relax for a bit and then head out on our own to see Times Square at night. And that's pretty cool. I even remark to the Wife that I truly never though I would ever see it in person. Lots of neon and lots of cheesy tourism, but still ... pretty cool.

We then head off to Rockefeller Center where The Wife is awed by the vacant set for 'The Today Show' ... so much so, she begins to plot out where Katie Couric will sit the next day. We pony up some money and go to Top of the Rock and enjoy a spectacular view of New York City. The evening ends with another tremendous dinner, this time at Rue 57. Over this meal, we also discuss how feasible it would be to actually live in New York.

We're being won over.

Tuesday, April 25

It's fitting that perhaps the best day of our brief trip started off with a horrific journey to the Museum of Natural History. Don't waste your $30 on this one. It's outdated, swarming with elementary school tour groups and if you say you want to go to the IMAX movie, they give you perhaps the most unreasonable time slot available ... say 1 p.m. if you get there at 10 a.m. We last an hour, which is impressive in its own right, before bailing and seeking out another hot dog in Central Park.

We do, however, begin our TV portion of the trip by visiting the Ed Sullivan Theater. And I manage to convince The Wife to visit the Hello Deli, though Rupert of Late Show With David Letterman fame is not in yet. So we buy gum.

The NBC Studio Tour clearly makes up for the failed outing of the morning. Things you learn - crazy women off of the street enjoy disrupting the beginning of your tour with outrageous claims of beatings, the tour guide doesn't actually know why the screens in the background appear to clear on TV and the Saturday Night Live set is absurdly small. At the end of the tour, they select two members of the tour group to 'host' a news report ... and guess who's picked? Yours truly.

I read the news portion of the 'broadcast' while a young woman named Monica struggles through the weather (it appears as if she was about to use her head to launch a vicious and unprovoked assault on Michigan at one point). The guide is very impressed by my performance, to which The Wife informs him 'well, he majored in TV.'

(Actually it was Telecommunications Management, but I did write a paper once on feminist themes in Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Got a B.)

Back, again, to the hotel to prepare for the evening's events. The whole reason we're on this trip is because The Wife's place of employment was generous enough to purchase a table at a dinner for the Food Bank For New York honoring three individuals for their service, and one of them being Michael Stipe of REM fame. There's a connection there, so said table is bought and employees plus-one get to come. Woo-hoo for them, I say.

This dinner is at Chelsea Piers, and it's quite obvious we are out of our league when we arrive. There's a red carpet complete with paparazzi (photographing Helena Christensen when we walk up), and our group has rolled up in a bevy of cabs. I lead the way (for some odd reason) and we head to the side door. The kind lady who is directing foot traffic ushers us away from there and onto the red carpet. No photographs ... yet.

Nice reception to start out with. Free appetizers (offered every nine seconds by aggressive waiters and waitresses) with complimentary drinks. We enjoy each other's company on the porch overlooking a beautiful view of the city and Statue of Liberty. Then, the announcement comes that dinner is ready, and two giant metal doors directly in front of us suddenly rise and reveal a massive ballroom.

Again, out of our league.

Each table has two bottles of wine, two fancy bottles of water and an appetizer plate of Goat Cheese Brulee (not so good) and a cabbage and mushroom salad (very much good). It is here we have our first celebrity sighting in Mario Batali, who is visiting with Mike Mills from REM at the table directly behind me. The Wife and I are floored by this ... though this is only the beginning.

After enjoying a tremendous meal (tornedos of beef with a lobster and zinfandel reduction sauce, lobster and chive mashed potatoes and steamed asparagus), the program begins ... emceed by random actor Stanley Tucci with an auction led by Mario Cantone (was the wedding planner for Charlotte on Sex In The City). Cantone, by the way, is horrifically not funny. Shrill a better term to describe him.

Cantone trying to auction off your soul.

OK ... we'll speed this up. Nice program. Rich people buy expensive things in the auction. Michael Stipe gives a humble speech, showing much love to Athens in the process (gives a shout-out to Princeton United Methodist Church even). It's in the speech when the course of the evening is set into motion.

Stipe: 'And this really means so much to ... oh, hey Jimmy Fallon.'

Jimmy Fallon.

Jimmy Freakin' Fallon.

Two tables away.

Not that I'm a huge Fallon fan or anything, but I am perhaps the only Red Sox fan on the planet who loved Fever Pitch ... and it's Jimmy Freakin' Fallon. So our mission is clear - we must get photographed with him, and whoever else is present. At this point, we absolutely become The Clampetts.

The Wife and I hunt down celebrities.

Just to start ... here's who is present here:

Rachel Ray
Nigella Lawson
Mario Batalli
Jill Hennessey
Dan Abrams
Gwenyth Paltrow
Chris Martin
All of REM

Oh yeah ... and Jimmy Freakin' Fallon.

Fallon is busy following dinner, so we make a beeline for Rachel Ray, and I become irrationally nervous (seriously, my mouth is dry, hands are sweaty ... I'm a wreck). Thus also begins the process of Jill Hennessey screwing us over. Each time we grew closer to a particular celebrity, in swoops Hennessey to say something to then. The Wife and I vow never to watch Crossing Jordan.

Finally, thanks to the kindness of Meredith from Whole Foods who had worked with Rachel Ray on a recent photo shoot, we meet her. It's quick, hectic and brief. I think The Wife said we were fans, but it's really all a blur.

It took about 30 minutes to get this photo ... woman could have cooked a turkey.

Next, we set our sights on Jimmy Fallon ... and it's remarkably easy. Not only is he quite possibly the nicest person I've met in quite a while, The Wife and I figure we could totally hang out with him. Thus, the conversation ...

Me: I'm a really big fan of Fever Pitch.
Fallon: Really?
Me: As a long-suffering Red Sox fan, I loved it.
Fallon: (bowing to me) You know, so many Red Sox fans hated it. And I love the Sox. I can't tell you how much it means to me that you guys liked it. Wow. That's so cool. Come on guys, let's get a picture together.

Jimmy Freakin' Fallon is a lot taller in real life.

Easily the highlight of the trip. Nice five-minute conversation with him which covered where we were from, what we did, why we were there ... all of that. He signed an autograph for us as well (reading 'To Johnathan and Julie, You Guys Made My Night!, Thanks Jimmy Fallon').

It all kinda blurred from there. We got a picture with Mario Batalli as well, complete with orange clogs on, so that rocked too.

Wednesday, April 26

Nothing much to write here ... though I did get on an elevator with Mary Matalin, and that was kinda cool. Mostly, a flight back home, which led to us getting stuck in traffic for more than an hour on I-85. Oh and our TV and internet are dead at home thanks to said lightning strike.

So, New York ... looking pretty good to me. Definitely want to go back, as soon as possible.

Who's with me?