You know, I just looked back on the last few posts I have written and discovered the image I am projecting: one of a bitter angry man. My life isn't the best by any means, but there have been some good moments throughout my stay here on earth. And two of the most memorable were trips to visit my friend, Scott, in New York City.
Scott used to live in Astoria, Queens back when we both were working in Kinkade galleries. He was the Director of the gallery in Manhattan and had come down to the philly area for a company event. Even though we had spoken for nearly a year over the phone, this was actually the first time we met face to face.
Long story short, the event went well and we all were making some good money. A few weeks later, Scott had invited me up to New York for the weekend. I hopped an Amtrak on Friday night and reached New York by about 9:00 or so. He met me at the station and we hopped a subway to his place in Queens. Although I was anxious to get out and see The Big Apple, we had decided on a simple and very nice dinner at a Greek restaurant around the corner from his house. Some good wine, good food and good conversation was the begining of the weekend.
The next morning, we got up, showered and were out the door to a small (again, Greek) diner around the corner. We ate breakfast and then hopped on the El and made our way into Manhattan. It was a beautiful, sunny and warm Saturday as we crossed the East River and descended into the depths of the New York underground. From there, I can't remember where we surfaced, but we walked the streets, window shopping, while Scott showed me this and that, which I've only seen in television or the movies.
We eventually made our way to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, where we expanded our culture through priceless works of art and ancient mummified corpses. Once outside again, I remember seeing a line of vendors selling everything from t-shirts to hot dogs to tiny little paintings of different scenes around the city. My eyes fell upon two particular pictures I decided I must have; one of the Brooklyn Bridge and a second of one of my favorite buildings, The Flat Iron.
As the afternoon rolled on, we strolled through Central Park and I was amazed at how lost one could get in an area that is nothing other than a giant rectangle in the middle of a sprawling city. But lost I was, both physically and mentally. It was amazing, walking down pathways and the sounds of the city were completely washed away. Small brooks fed into larger streams while the canopy of trees shaded us from the blistering Indian Summer sun. After about an hour or more, we emerged all the way down by the Plaza Hotel and it suddenly dawned on the both of us that we haven't had anything to eat since early that morning (it was now about 4 or 5 o'clock).
The only bad thing to happen that whole weekend (sorry, Scott) was when we stopped in some themed restaurant to grab a burger and Scott accidentally sat on the bag containing my pictures that I had just purchased. All I remember hearing was a "pop" and I knew the glass had broken.
(sigh...)
I can't keep anything nice.
Anyway, after having fun making Scott feel guilty about ruining my purchase (I'm sure I'll receive a scathing phone call within a few days of posting this), we headed back to Queens for a quick nap before returning to the city for a night of bar-hopping.
I don't exactly remember which bars we went to. I remember hopping in and out of cabs but I think, for the most part, we walked up and down Christopher Street. I remember going to The Stonewall and then to another bar that was having Karioki. The one thing that really stands out was going to a bar to shoot pool and all of a sudden, this guy comes up to me and starts flirting with me. The whole time he was doing this, I couldn't help but feel that I knew him. But that couldn't be...right? I mean... I'm in New York. Sure, it's only 90 minutes from Philly, but there are friggin 8 million people here... But still, the feeling nagged me.
And then it hit me!
Of all people! I suddenly turned to Scott and said: "This guy's from philly."
The guy turned to me and said: "Yes I am. Is that where you're from?"
"Yes."
"Did we meet down there?"
"Yes," I replied, taking a swig of beer and looking at him cooly. "And you annoyed the fuck out of me down there too."
The next morning, Sunday, was even more beautiful (although you wouldn't be able to tell by looking at Scott). We got up, showered and headed to that little Greek diner again. I don't remember what we had ordered for breakfast, but I do remember the waitress plopping the food down infront of us, Scott taking a look at his plate, looking up at me, and say: "I'll be right back." He then rushed into the bathroom.
Awwwwwwwww..., I thought, taking a forkful of some sort of breakfast meat. Poor guy shouldn't have drank so much.
After a few cups of coffee (and luckily no more trips to the bathroom), we finished breakfast and paid the bill. The plan today was to head down to the South Street Seaport to Scott's gallery and then just play it by ear as to what to do next.
We hopped the subway and traveled down to Lower Manhattan, walked to the Seaport and went to his gallery. I was amazed at how similar it looked to mine, right down to the furniture. I didn't want to stay too long.
Scott suggested we walk across the Brooklyn Bridge.
"Why?" I asked.
"Why not?"
So we did. When we reached the midspan, I turned around and took in the view. And was suddenly pissed that I left my camera back at the apartment. Like a gift from heaven, seated right smack dab in the middle of the Brooklyn Bridge, was an old woman selling bottled water and (gasp) disposable cameras!!! I bought one of each and started snapping pictures...
Pictures of the skyline...
Pictures of Scott and the skyine...
Pictures of me and the skyline...
Pictures of a hot jogger with the ass of death--and the skyline...
You get the picture...
We didn't walk all the way over to Brooklyn, but instead turned and headed back into the city. We strolled through a very abandoned looking financial district until we came across a place to get some coffee. Then down to Battery Park. People were sunning out by the water and I remember one guy with this HUGE bulge sticking out from his tiny silken shorts...
I took a picture...
We circled the park and head up towards the World Trade Center. I snapped some pictures of the twin towers before we strolled into the Winter Garden. We emerged out in the plaza of the World Trade Center and Scott asked if I wanted to go up to the observation deck. I told him the last time I was in New York with my boyfriend, Mark, we tried to go up to the top of the Empire State and the line was like two hours long.
"Well, let's just check it out," He said. "If it's less than about 15 minutes, we'll go up."
Lo and behold, there was barely anyone in line and within the 15 minute timeline we gave ourselves, we found ourselves standing out looking across all of Manhattan. Never in my life have I been up so high with such an incredible unobstructed view. From each direction, north, south, east and west, I took picture after picture of the land around me, the sky cloudless as the sun started drifting off towards the west. I felt alive up there! The entire city below was alive, but not a sound drifted up this high. It was incredible.
Little did I know how glad I would be to experience that feeling.
Sadly, a week later, the world changed before our very eyes as both buildings came down.
But still...although I have been to New York a few times before then, that weekend was, without question, the best weekend I had and I will always be grateful to Scott for sharing it with me...
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