a very long, very good day (m)

Day 2 in New York.  Wake up at 6 a.m.  I have a complimentary breakfast coming at 7 and want to be dressed and showered and packed by then.  The complimentary breakfast is to shut me up since I complained alot the night before at the "fabulous" Trump Soho hotel (subject of a separate blog...I'm still waiting for my apology from The Donald).

Breakfast arrives...egg white omelet with spinach.  Fresh fruit.  A piece of dry, rye toast.  Green tea (black). 

A friend of mine is in town (Hoboken) visiting her daughter who just had a baby girl.  I go down to the concierge and ask how to get to Hoboken.  The nearest subway is "just" 11 blocks away.  Then I have to take the subway and  find a cab once there.  Fugeddaboudit.  I take a cab to Hoboken.  Fifty bucks.  Done.

I arrive 30 minutes earlier than I said I'd be there.  My friend, Betsy, and her daughter Emily (the new mother) are on "new baby time"...they are disheveled, unprepared for my visit so soon, and look exhausted.  Emily says, "M...you're half the size you once were!"  I suppose I do look good to a lactating, sleep-deprived young mother.

The baby is 9 days old and exquisite.  I hold her almost the entire visit, kissing her little head which smells of new baby.  The spirited 2 year-old sister wants me to have "tea" with her.  I pretend to drink from the small toy cups and eat the plastic cupcakes, all the while praying the little straw chairs don't break under my weight.  I'm greatly relieved when they don't.

After an hour or so, I bid farewell and climb into a cab back to the city.  Lyn tells me to go straight to some sample sale for scarves.  My cab driver doesn't know the city well and has tremendous disdain for it, "Look..look at this traffic!  I ask you, is this any way to live?"  He drops me off at some unnamed building and I pray I'm in the right place.  I think I'm in the garment district. 

Lyn shows up, looking great.  All decked out in tight jeans, motorcycle jacket, newly done hair.  I feel like Sr. Mary of the Rosary next to her in my black and white outfit.  I buy some scarves for Christmas presents for friends and a bunch of $5 silk scarves to give to my sister-in-law for her Church's auction.

I asked Lyn to bring a backpack for me to put my shopping purchases in since it would be easier to carry on my back.  She brings me this diarhhea-colored Eastpak she got as a freebie when she worked for the Discovery Channel.  Not exactly the image I was trying to cultivate while in Manhattan.

Next, we take the subway to Soho.  What a production.  Through the turnstyle, down the stairs, across a large area, up the stairs,  across the uphill ramp and down the stairs.  It took almost 12 minutes to get to the train. 

We get seated on the train and Lyn asks some guy to take our pictures.  She's never met a camera she didn't like.  This is torture for me to have my picture taken.  I smile for the stranger and make a note to destroy Lyn's camera later.

We shop for hours in Soho--leather goods store, furniture stores, lighting stores, street vendors, women's boutique.  I'm satisfied with my great bargain scarves and buy a couple of cheap (but nice-looking necklaces) from a street vendor.  I'm fascinated by his gold front teeth.  Lyn thinks he likes me.  That's who I attract.

By 4:30 p.m., it's starting to pour.  I whip out my royal blue LL Bean nylon windbreaker with the hood, strap on the brown backpack and catch sight of myself in the mirror of the chic boutique.  I am a vision. 

We meet Sam and his roommate at a nice Italian restaurant.  Sam looks great in a French blue shirt and gray suit.  Since we skipped lunch and I skipped dinner last night, I threw caution to the wind and enjoyed dinner (some pasta, some proscuitto and melon and a chicken dish followed by fresh raspberries and a little whipped cream).  I'm stuffed.

At 7:45 p.m., we bid farewell and head out into the pouring rain.  No cabs to be had.  We walk a little, and are getting soaked.  Sam says he can't believe I wore that casual jacket and asks "what's with the backpack?"   He's laughing. We start walking some more, this time faster.  Sam's roommate is almost 6'4"-- I can't keep up with his long legs.  Sam set a collegiate record for bases stolen.  I'm dying trying to keep up with them.  Ten minutes later,   no cabs.  Sam's roommate tries to hail a cab but he's such a polite WASP that we get nowhere.  I decide to make the decision. "Let's just hoof it to Grand Central."  Sixteen blocks later, we are soaked, my right knee buckles under and we are in the station.

Sam gets me seated in the train. He and his roommate go to the next car to find seats.  The train is packed.  I am with two women, one of whom produces the Garnier ads for L'Oreal.  We talk about that for awhile.  The other women is nice, too.  I make new friends with them by the time we get to Stamford.

At Stamford, I change into dry clothes in the ladies' room.  Sam and I drive his roommate to New Canaan and by 9:30 p.m., we head home in the Yukon.  It's raining so hard, I can barely see out the window.  Sam and I split a bag of peanut M&Ms which I bought on the train to Stamford from some stranger raising money for the Boy Scouts (the nice woman said, "You're brave").

We get home at 1:05 a.m.  The house looks like it was broken into.  Mail strewn about.  Tons of catalogues piled on the kitchen counter.  Campbell's tomato soup cans in the sink.  Dishes in the sink.  Dishwasher empty. 

I clean up the kitchen, sort the mail, throw out the catalogues and go to bed.

It's 2 a.m.  By now, I'm hungry again. 

I force myself to go to sleep.