Landed around 9am today, and after waiting 30 minutes for the Super Shuttle, I was launched into a microcosmic version of Tourist Hell. My shuttle mates were all from, apparently, small towns. After the third time I heard, “Wow, these buildings are so TALL!” and the seventh time I heard, “How does anyone ever get used to living like THIS?” I wanted to vomit. And two women visibly gasped at being in the midst of a morning rush hour traffic jam in midtown Manhattan. Yes, folks, it’s the Big City. [If ever I am certain I’m a city gal, it’s in moments like these, when I’m embarrassed by others’ provincialism.]
My hotel (Super 8 Times Square) is so-so. Nothing like the ones I’ve stayed in for work in the past, but it’s free and the heat works. Did I mention it’s cold here? And not cold like windy-in-Chicago cold, but just put-a-chill-in-you cold.
Lunch was from Bread & Olive – a falafel sandwich of which Pita Inn should be jealous along with delicious hummus (plus ginger ale… who stocks ginger ale as a normal soda choice?). The owner complimented me on my hair, leaving me to ponder how rebellious I can possibly be when 80-year-old Israeli men like the way I look. What’s next, a 90-year-old bum on the subway telling me he likes my tattoos?
Tonight is still up in the air. I’m busy getting my work done while I wait to hear from BrooklynBoy. Going to see The Namesake at the Paris Theatre at 9:55 while waiting for him, and will likely grab something to eat at Zen Palate or Zenith (and possibly swing by Dale & Thomas popcorn to smuggle some into the theatre).
As for the rest of the weekend: tomorrow it’s tooling around the Village for book-and-CD browsing, followed by a night out with a guy I met at the Deadhead caucus in New Mexico, and possibly a film at the IFC Center (this weekend: Rendezvous with French Cinema… ooh lah lah!) somewhere in between. Sunday takes me to Brooklyn for the first time in my life, as I’m brunching at DuMont in Williamsburg with my NYC alter-ego, aka one of the PR reps I work with for GCK. We met when I was here last fall and got along fabulously. If I were a fashionable New Yorker who grew up in Connecticut and majored in art history at Brown, that would be me. As I said, alter-ego.