Wry, NY

At 2am we learned our sleepy little street played host to quite the nightlife scene with clubs and bars spilling over a hundred people into its sidewalks. Some time later that morning we learned the hotel management lets drunken locals use the common restroom when someone mistakenly jiggled the handle of our room door.

We still managed to get our acts together by midmorning to catch a train from Grand Central Station up to Rye, NY on the New Haven line to meet up with Alex and Stephanie and finally be introduced to their children, Zachary and Sophia.

The town resembles a posh Mayberry with a population of only 10,000, 30% of the land devoted to parks and recreation, and no big box stores allowed in the city limits. It rained all day making the beachfront within walking distance of their house look more like the Oregon coast while cloaking Long Island in a mist across the bay. The beach also contains quite an activity center with a junior league hockey rink, arcade, and pool. Most impressive to me was the amusement park complete with roller-coasters and featured in the movie "Big." Jeanne also became elated when I told her this meant I wouldn't drag her all the way to Coney Island.

Though the train ride home remained uneventful, our transfer in a subway station near the Brooklyn bridge won Jeanne's award for "most like that scene from 'Jacob's Ladder.'" Peeling paint hung from the two story ceiling in foot long strips while water dripped all around us and unseen birds flew back and forth.

Punchline

A false fire alarm started our day followed by the closure of our preferred F train. This led us to Brooklyn for the first time, and though we never surfaced we managed to have what I call our first New York moment. 

A young man with two black eyes screamed detour options to a group of Spanish speaking women until another local offered her advise. Arguing commenced with the young man finally agreeing with her detour option then proceeding to shout it to the women, not because of their limited English but just because that was the only volume his voice had. 

We shopped at a flee market in Hell's Kitchen, wondered lost through Chelsea, then relaxed for awhile in Washington Park on the NYU main campus. Many musicians accompanied the warm sunny day, but the one who stood out the most did so by bringing out his upright piano on movers' dollies. 

We grabbed lunch at a taqueria near our hotel on the Lower Ease Side then shopped between Chinatown and Little Italy before finalizing plans with our friend Laura to meet up for some dinner and comedy. We followed Indian food with The Political Subversives (a musical satire improv troop - think "The Daily Show" meets "Glee") then finished catching up over hot chocolate and cake at a subway station serving both of our needed lines. This marked the first time we had to wait for a train really at all, but expecting more at 1am might be greedy. 

Past the Pasta

The PKE readings we observed at the New York Public Library measured off the charts, but since the card catalog from "Ghostbusters" had long ago been digitized we found no reason to flee down its steps upon our exit. Now new specters haunt its halls leeching WiFi from laptops within minutes of its daily opening. 

A short walk led us to Times Square where we smiled for the webcam for Jeanne's father, explored a few touristy shops, then met our neighbor Dan who moved to Albany last year. We checked out the city from the observation deck atop Rockefeller Center then headed to midtown for some Italian food. 

Portions once again became our adversary as my lobster risotto came topped with half a lobster. Jeanne's porcini ravioli arrived smothered in a mushroomy cream sauce, and I'll have to remember to make a lentil salad by adding just olive oil and olives. 

We stumbled out and walked through FAO Schwartz and narrowly avoided dancing on the "Big" piano then wondered about in Central Park before hitting up the MOMA.  Jeanne's excitement over seeing Wyeth's "Christina's World" and learning of her affliction with polio made my day. 

We took Dan on the subway back to our part of town near Little Italy for appetizers finished off with his cravings for cannoli and grappa and felt almost like locals as we easily led him to the subway he needed to transfer to his train at Penn Station. 

Other than Jeanne still pining for a folded slice of pizza we may have OD'ed on Italian for this trip.  

Deathrace 2011

For the budget price of just $28 a madman drove us from Newark to the Lower East Side in his stunt van. Along with a carload of French people we sped along at full acceleration stopping only for cross traffic and to back up on the highway in order to escape lines of other vehicles.  Pedestrians looked upon his menacing headlights and fled for the sidewalk as we brushed by them within inches.  We arrived deathly afraid of jaywalking.