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Wednesday, May 26, 2004
Spent a swell (and sweltering) 24 hours in Manhattan, a quick trip down for some long-awaited celebratory family time and a little sidewalk wandering. A change in perspective, some new input, some cultural stimulation that Boston can't quite deliver. Turn one corner and you run into a massive Israeli-day parade, turn another and there's an army of screaming kids lined up for a Harry Potter premiere. Normally I'd be fighting an impending internal freak-out, surrounded by thousands of people in mid-80s sticky-city humidity... but for some reason I was all swami, taking it all in, almost reveling in the sights, smells, and sweat of NYC. I think I needed it.
Our hotel was The Benjamin, on 50th, the Saturday night stay a gift from our relatives. We somehow lucked out and got an upgrade to a 20th floor corner suite... with a terrace. Wow. I could have sat out there all day sipping on bottles of Brooklyn Lager, listening to the sounds of traffic far below.  The suite was beautiful, the service spot-on, the attention to detail impressive. Never got a single cheesy-fake vibe from anyone there, the staff seemed sincere and proud of the place. As they shoulda been. I usually don't feel very relaxed in such posh places, relating more to the staff than the guests, but they made me feel totally comfortable, and even laughed when I tried to bring up my own bags. I explained that old bellman habits die hard (yeah, I did my time), so they indulged me. Can't recommend the place highly enough. And then there was Sunday brunch. The place was Norma's, in the Parker Meridian Hotel on 56th between 6th and 7th. By far the best breakfast I've ever had in my life, hands down. Seriously, no hyperbole here. Yeah, it was pricey, but worth every cent and more. New Yorkers may have heard of it, since they've apparantly gotten a little media attention for their $1000 caviar omelette. Well, we skipped the omelette, but we did get a tastebud-blowing fruit-filled "ring", a circle of watermelon filled with the freshest, juiciest fruit I've ever had. Then there was the pile of farm-fresh scrambled eggs, the apple-smoked bacon, the berry-stuffed stack of french toast. And the orange juice! Fresh squeezed, pulp free, ice cold. I've never tasted it's equal. Next time you're in Manhattan, treat yourself. This place cannot be topped.  Making the trip all the mo' better, we brought our Nina with us. We hadn't planned on it, but shockingly our hotel was pet-friendly, so she tagged along for her first taste of NYC action. I can't even imagine what was going on in her dog-brain as she looked out over the East River as we cruised down the FDR. Or when the smells hit her nose as we got out of the air-conditioned car. Or when she was surrounded by more people than she ever knew existed.  An unanticipated dilemma: Doggie bathroom breaks. Y'see, Nina is conditioned to go on grass, and grass alone. As you can imagine, green patches are damn hard to come by in Manhattan (unless you're near the, um, big one in the center). We asked passing NYC dog-walkers, but their dogs were used to doing the deed on the concrete, so no help there. We wandered blocks looking for anything resembling a park, but came up empty. We had to settle on a strip of mulch overseen by a grim doorman who looked ready to pounce. Fortunately, Amie could flash a smile (and Nina could give the old puppy-dog eyes), so he stayed back. Very lucky.  We figured it'd be easier for her the second day, during a long hot walk in Central Park, but of course Nina was uncooperative. "No poop for you." She was too distracted by NYC squirrels and horse-drawn carriages, and probably sweating out all the liquid in her body. As were we all. The heat forced us back to the hotel to get our car and head over the Brooklyn Bridge for a quick stop at West Elm and a couple slices of NYC-style pizza. I didn't think I'd need to eat again on Sunday after that heavenly breakfast, but the pizza hit the spot, and prepared us for the hell-to-come... our long drive home. The only low-point of the visit, our trip back was a near-nightmare of traffic delays, sporadic sheets of rain, and whoa-inducing flashes of lightening. We were both tired from the day's heat, each hoping the other would take the wheel, so we switched off as best we could. Good thing we found a Dunkin' Donuts somewhere in CT. A four hour drive down became a five and a half hour trip back. Painful, but in the end, a small price to pay for the family and food-filled weekend we had.  |
 the joy formidable live in allston, ma on march 29th, 2011 previously: fugazi - vermont 1991 recent posts on the 'nac... on the nightstand other boston-area music blogs
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