Okay, proper report – but alas no digital pics to download. On Monday morning I’m talking to hubby and he’s griping that he doesn’t have enough meetings scheduled and he has all this free time and he’d rather be home. By late afternoon he calls and ask me to join him. Then I get a call from a friend who says she’ll take my dog. So, surfing madly around the net I book a flight at less than crazy prices (there’s only 3 airlines that fly from Vancouver to New York) and then I’m off to the bank to get American money. Then over to my friend’s place whose husband is recuperating from peritonitis. Her little one keeps saying Juno is biting her even though she’s nowhere near her. Then both girls are crying over this and that and pitching their voices so high I’m ready to have a meltdown never mind the dog. Her husband is looking green around the gills and it becomes apparent that the timing is absolutely horrible. So I call it a wrap and start making phone calls. It is now 9pm and I have to be up at 4am to catch a plane and I have no dog sitter. I email and call our doggy daycare service and call my friend to pick up my dog the next morning to deliver her. An hour later, a plan is set and I’m packing a carry-on and calling people and ironing my pants. 4 am comes too soon and I move so quickly out the door, I forget my Ipod and camera. At the airport, it dawns on my foggy mind that I shouldn’t be at the international side cause my flight connects in Calgary, so I make my way over and check in and rush to get myself caffeinated. Silly me.
In Calgary, I go through the roughest American security check I’ve ever gone through. The guy makes me replace my ziploc bag of travel sized liquids to a tiny f**** ziploc bag which meant I had to ditch my shaving cream and antibacterial gel. But what can I do, I have to make my connection. No big deal, I think, as he paws his way through my carry on luggage. Finally, I make it into my seat and I’m on my way to Newark. I had paid for a shared ride van on the internet the night before. I thought it was a good idea since I didn’t want to pay $50 for a cab. Mmmm, you the know the saying, time is money? Well, you get what you pay for as well. I get on the shuttle, and after a while he finally leaves, but then comes back around to the terminal because his van isn’t full. He thinks some other driver took some of his passengers. A couple of us start grumbling. I wish I had a joke about the black Buddhist, the Arab in a ski jacket and the Jew, being stuck in van driven by a Jesus loving Latino but I don’t. I’m frigging exhausted. A lady starts tearing into the guy and she’s not letting up. She’s taking names and numbers and then calls her friend to let them know of our captivity. Meanwhile I’m getting rapid texts of where are you, how long are you going to be, etc. 2 hours later, I’m at the hotel in Times Square. I’m so happy to finally make it that I go to the room number that DH was in 24 hours before! So via phone texts, I’m directed back to the front desk, get my key and make it to my man’s door. Ah, kisses all around!
We were at the Doubletree – which is pretty damn good by the way. They even give you a warm gooey chocolate chip cookie! We were on the 31st floor suite with perfect view of Times Square. A quick freshen up and we meet two of my actor friends from Vancouver. I’m sitting in a cozy lit backyard of a Italian restaurant in Greenwich Village with two fabulous girls and my fabulous husband. One can of Red Bull and a lemon drop martini later and I am transported back to 1986. Meaning I am happy and buzzed and feeling the love of good food, good friends, and no worries. I went to the American Academy of Dramatic Arts a million years ago and it was one of the highlights of my life. I was young, in love and utterly absorbed by my craft and the bright lights of NYC. I fall asleep that night giddy with nostalgic emotions.
We have to change hotels the next day, with the United Nations assembly, Obama, the Clinton Foundation meetings, etc, the city is packed to the rafters. DH has seen plenty of police, secret service and various submachine guns. So off we go down to the Sheraton Manhattan. Mmmm, not so nice, if you want to know. As you may know, they charge a small FORTUNE for hotel room in Manhattan and most hotels rest on their tattered laurels. The room even smelled musty, but hey, the linens were clean, the two double beds clean and comfy. Hubby is busy that day, but I’m happy hanging with the girls as they speedwalk everywhere. Not so good for my flat feet and flip flops but I hung in there. It was just DH and I that night, we returned to Union Square neighbourhood place, Cornelia Cafe and had a nice meal there. It was so nice just holding hands and strolling down the street. So romantic. We didn’t stay out late but it was one of the nicest evenings we’ve had in a while. I have to say that I haven’t felt that way in so long. Maybe it was the magic of the city, I don’t know, but for once, we weren’t freaking out over money or babies or lawyers or social workers. I think this is the life that PJ of Coming 2Terms hinted at. I was almost there, PJ, almost there, but the lure of baby poo proved to be too strong. The service everywhere we went was great and the people there were so helpful and good natured.
One of the highlights of my visit was the Tony award winning play, God of Carnage. DH’s partner has a brother in law who is friends with one of the stars and we got orchestra tickets. The play was incredibly funny and moving all the same time. Later that night, hubby re-packed my carry on bag, I’m atrocious at packing seriously, and he was off for an early morning flight to TO. My friend and I found our way to Century 21 (it’s like a gigantic Winners for you Canadians) and I bought a couple of things. Boo to my pitiful spending budget and limited time. I was supposed to buy my friends some lunch, but unfortunately we ended up at a restaurant that had time management issues and our food never arrived. We just left, grabbed some greasy pizza and I had to fly back to the hotel, get my stuff and take the Amtrak to Newark. 2 hours later, I’m on my way home. I had hubby’s texts and emails keeping me company the whole way. Note to old creaky self, spend the money on cab fare.