when in rome (m)

The first thing the kids notice about living in New York is that there are three choices for transportation...walk, take a cab, or take public transportation.  Schlepping around with skating bags makes walking the 1.5 miles to the rink a non-option.  Ditto public transportation.  So, we wait in front of the hotel for a cab.  And wait.  And wait.

"What gives?" we ask the people at the front desk.

"Fashion Week and Ramadan," they say, explaining this combination means lots of people and no cab drivers.

Beautiful.

Have breakfast with one of the mothers (the normal one) at Fresh something or other on 30th street.  Egg white omelet, veggies, PAM...$3.99.  It kills me to pass on the home fries and toast, but I couldn't get my rings on when I woke up (Could a small piece of feta from the Greek salad do that? Four Dots?).

When we aren't at the rink, I walk everywhere.  I could be thin in this city.  Walk 2 hours around Canal Street (junk, except for the "Chanel" white "ceramic" watches).  The guy selling them tries to show me with a knife that the bands are real ceramic and how they don't scrape when a knife is put against their surface.  I take the knife from him and try to scrape my finger to show him how the skin doesn't cut either.  He gives me a big discount on the watches--one is for Susan.

Harrison has the skate of his life.  Must have been the peanut butter and banana sandwich beforehand.  Got that at Pret a Manger ("ready to eat") near our hotel.   I could live in this city.  Everything at your fingertips.

Except a cab when you need it.

After the competition, a group of us wait 20 minutes and walk 5 blocks trying to hunt down a cab.  One of the girls is still wearing her short skating outfit so I put her in front of me and tell her to put her hand out to flag down the cab.  Presto...one comes within a couple of minutes.  Nothing like showing a little leg.

Call Lyn to ask for a restaurant recommendation on the West Side.  A steakhouse, specifically, as that's what the kids want (they did not like the Greek restaurant last night).  Lyn does a search and comes up with Abe and Arthur's on 14th and 9th. 

The cab ride is tortuous.  Stop and go.  Stop and crawl.  Traffic everywhere.  People everywhere.  Somewhere on 9th Avenue (I think) we see some men posing in a window wearing nothing but Speedos (or the equivalent)--a promotional opening of some sort.  The kids laugh.    The cab still doesn't move.

One of the kids looks up and sees an Italian restaurant.  I don't want to go because the point count will be high, but I don't want to stay in that cab another second as I am getting carsick.  We get out.

At the restaurant ( I won't give you the name because it was not good) we see a group of transvestites wearing evening gowns.  Our little skater in her little dress goes unnoticed in that venue. 

Some friends who just arrived in New York and are staying at the Hotel Chelsea come to join us.  Sid Vicious murdered his girlfriend at that hotel (Room #100).  They rode up the elevator with Ethan Hawke.

Everything is getting calm (okay, after the white wine sangria I am feeling calm) when one of the mothers says, "Don't scream, just put your feet up off the ground."   A mouse is crawling around under our table.  Good thing because I lose my appetite.  I could've consumed 14 points of pizza but don't.  Leave with just having had a small salad and a sangria.

Get back to my room (apparently, the designated party room) and the kids...and their moms...are there recapping the day.  The room is so small that Harrison and I can barely turn around.  Now there are 6 people. 

At 11:30, people go back to their rooms.  I go to sleep and wake up hungry at 2 a.m.