Reservations at 11

Posted by Guest Blogger- Laura
Wednesday, February 17, 2010

Photo taken from our balcony

Sometimes I look at life like an investor might look at property. Some days and some hours are high value lots with breathtaking views and other moments are worth less....sellable, ones that can be given away for the right low price.

When Jennifer and I realized that our flight was delayed ~ we found that we would wait in the Houston Airport for two hours...two “high value” hours...two hours we would surrender from our three day trip to New York...not just any three days...but three days that would become my first visit to the city I had only heard about. Those two hours were, to me, expensive hours...valuable time, cul-de-sac, waterfront, appreciating, double lot, hours, and I was spending them in an airport terminal in Houston, Texas.

After filling the time with talk, food, and email, Jennifer and I boarded the flight to the city I had only heard Frank sing of....and the song was playing in the back of my mind the entire day. “I’m gonna be a part of it”...and that was my plan, well at least for three days......minus two hours.

We landed at La Guardia airport, and I was immediately surprised to find it quite simple and charming. It was easy to navigate our way to the baggage claim, and Jennifer had us down the escalator and into a cab in less than an hour.

While Jennifer called to check on her kids, I found myself wondering if I was supposed to chat with the driver...isn’t that what people do in taxis? I casually mentioned to him that I had heard snow had fallen earlier in the day. If he responded, I didn’t hear him, and after that I no longer attempted to talk to the drivers, and I learned quickly from the way they drive that it is probably safer if they don’t talk. Instead, I chose to look out the windows in wonder...which became a New York pattern for me...looking out the windows...in the taxi’s, in the apartment, the stores, the restaurants...the three day approach to New York, for me, was a marvelous journey in window shopping and I devoured every sight.

We arrived at our apartment in what seemed like a matter of minutes, and as I stepped from the taxi, I turned and noted that directly across the street stood one of the city’s definitive icons. The Empire State building towered above us more than a quarter of a mile high. As I craned my neck to see it, I could not stop myself from recalling a vision of Kong from my childhood hanging off the side, batting away tiny helicopters...the vision was involuntary, it just happened...and now I would sleep next to the reality of that memory for the next three nights.

Still in awe, I gathered my luggage and headed up to the apartment. Gina’s place is about thirty floors up, and so as we entered her living room we were greeted by the flickering lights of the Midtown skyscrapers with the Chrysler Building standing out among them like the brightest star in a constellation of lighted towers. The view from the balcony was surreal and breathtaking. I could hear only the wind and the trademark sounds of honking horns, intermittent with a few sirens. Even from that high up, the city seemed alive, pulsing, inviting, and almost supernatural, and I could not wait to meet it.

Gina had made dinner reservations, so after a quick touch up, we headed out. We dined at a popular restaurant called Blue Water Grill in the heart of Union Square. The former Metropolitan Bank space hosts a cozy subterranean lounge where we were served gourmet seafood paired with a bottle of white under dimly lit, red chandeliers, while we listened to live jazz music. It was superb, it was surreal...it was New York.

With a full tummy, and a racing mind, I sat in my bed that night, and continued the pattern I started in the cab of looking out the windows. As I starred at the sky line, I didn’t want to let my eyes close; I didn’t even want to lie down. The blinking, twinkling view was so completely different from anything in my world at home, and to be honest unlike anything I had ever seen before. Though it seems like such a cliché, I must pen it here...at that moment, all I could think was, “I love New York...I Love New York!”

The next morning I awoke to see the city through the lens of daylight. After some strong coffee, we were quick head out to begin work at Henri Bendel. The store, which stands four stories, is over a century old, and it parades a vast variety of shoppers. Tourists, locals, couples, girls in groups, men in pairs, and seasoned ladies in full length furs, filled up Bendel’s signature brown and white stripped hat boxes with everything from rare perfumes and modern headbands, to couture sunglasses and crystal studded dog collars. Gina’s Jewelry, Charmed Circle, was featured in the Atrium of the store, so as shoppers entered to get a reprieve from the cold they could not help but see our welcoming faces hoping they would stop and shop for a Love Letter or a caged heart, before filling their hat boxes with other accessories.

After a full day’s work, we feasted on Park Avenue in a little corner booth at Artisanal Fromagerie Bistro & Wine Bar. As the name implies, the charming bistro offers a selection of 250 hand-crafted cheeses from around the world and a wine bar that offers over 160 wines by the glass. Set against an Art Deco backdrop, we dipped perfectly cooked pieces of tenderloin, potato, and bread into Manchego fondue paired with a bottle of Red. It was a perfect evening...perfect company, food, wine and scenery. Once again I went to sleep trying to keep my eyes from closing, hoping to take in each movement of light in the flickering sky line.

On Day two I awoke with some free time before going to work at Bendel’s. Gina strongly persuaded me to take the Bus Tour throughout the City. I was very hesitant at first, thinking that a walk through the city should suffice. I considered the bus tour to be surrendering to “tourist traps.” But, despite my hesitation, I gave in to Gina and found myself climbing to the top of a big blue modified tourist trap… I mean tour bus. The Plexiglas covering hardly buffered the 20 degree weather, but along with five other brave souls and a tour guide, I began my 2.5 hour “tour” of the city. The first day’s tour was down town, and I would take the uptown the following morning. The bus took us down the artsy Bleeker Street in Greenwich Village, into China town, through little Italy, little Korea, past New York University, the Brooklyn Bridge, down Wall Street, past the distant Statue of Liberty, through the nooks and crannies of Soho, along the sobering streets at Ground Zero, and into the electric light show that is Time Square.

The uptown tour circled Central Park, through Harlem’s raw 125th street, past the Museum of Natural History, alongside the Hudson River and Grant’s tomb and back down 5th Avenue where I got off at The Plaza Hotel. I have only named a fraction of the sights and places the tours passed through, and though hesitant at first, the entire journey saturated my senses and will remain one of my unforgettable travel experiences. What, at first, felt like surrender to a tourist trap became the journey that made the vibrant Manhattan Island tangible, digestible, real, historical, respectable, and all together marvelous. Once again, I loved New York, and though I loved her from the sky line the night before, today I not only loved her, I knew her.

After the tour, I had a few minutes to spare before starting work at Bendel’s, so I stopped at a little deli to warm up. For $2.52, I got the opportunity to eat a New York Bagel, (yes, they’re good), drink some coffee, and watch, once again, from the window the city pass by. As I sipped my coffee, I pondered why I loved it here so much. I loved the creative spirit that seemed to permeate everything and everyone...I loved that I see more people in an hour than I do in weeks at home. I loved the grid of streets in there comforting right angles that run perpendicular with the vast and different architectural buildings that tower over them… the societal melting pot that manifests itself in Russian, Spanish, Chinese, French, Korean, Italian, Irish, German, Japanese, Vietnamese, Indian, and Hebrew dialects, and diners all throughout the streets.... the blend of history combined with progressive will power working together to keep it current, yet established.  I loved the dark, disorganized little shops no wider than my bed… the street vendors selling dirty water hot dogs, pretzels, hot nuts and skewered chicken. I loved that the McDonald’s could be confused for a Broadway Marquee and the Wendy’s had a street side awning...that you can pass a restaurant named “Good Taste” Chinese next door to the “Sho Nuff” hair salon....the way the taxi’s moved in and out of traffic like a seasoned couple in some unspoken dance almost anticipating the darts and stops of one another. I loved that 8 million people exist and feel at home on top of one another in what appears to be a “concrete jungle.” I loved that dinner reservations are made as late as 11:00 and at 1:00 in the morning it feels no different on the streets than 10:30 p.m. I loved that women in ankle length furs shopped the streets of 5thavenue with little dogs in jeweled collars and sweaters.  I loved that, as Gina put it, being here makes you feel like you can be anything.

My third and final day was filled with another day at Bendels, and a delicious night out followed by a late night drive through Times Square. Once again, it was superb, filled with great company, sights and delicacies.

One of my friends said to me after hearing that I was going to New York for the first time, “Don’t let it change you.” Though I understand the sentiment in that statement, it is hard to imagine returning from that city unchanged. Simply put, it is so entirely different from anything I have ever known, seen or experienced. Upon my return I do feel a bit...different, stretched, enlightened, tolerant, open, and wonder-filled.  I find myself looking up photo blogs of the city and studying its rich history in my spare moments. It was magical, marvelous, and surreal, and I cannot wait to go back again. I cannot wait to look through more windows, and to once again fight to keep my eyes open while staring at the sky line, to try more ethnic foods, and to eat another dirty water hot dog, to walk through Central Park, and see a Broadway show. Oh, and I can’t wait to board another big blue modified tour bus and see it all over again. But, most of all, I cannot wait to get my two hours back that I surrendered in the Houston airport...I know I will someday, but until then, I will continue to keep up with her through photo blogs and remember her on the t-shirts and coffee mugs I brought home with me...both of which repeat the trademarked saying that is trite but true...I love New York...I love New York!


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