My brother and his wife arrived Thursday afternoon for what has turned into an annual visit to New York City. This would be the third year in a row. I have finally learned that it's impossible for me to arrange for them to be entertained each and every day, so I have gradually stopped trying. Not enough really seems to interest them, or rather, interests both them and me for us to do together, so now, rather then give myself whiplash trying to bend over backwards to please them, I simply make a couple of plans and see if there is any interest. If they don't want to, they don't want to. And if I don't feel like joining them, I don't.
So it was that Thursday afternoon after checking into their hotel room they immediately left for Yankee Stadium and an afternoon game. I decided not to attend. I've been to Yankee games in the past and enjoyed them but I'm holding out for a new experience like a seat in a luxury box or right behind home plate. "Baseball player butt" mmmmmm. I met up with them around 9 pm after I had a pre-interview job interview. We'll see what comes of that. Typically, my brother and his wife didn't seem to want to do much of anything. So we sat in a building common area on 51st/Broadway and chatted about the family, jobs, their new grandchild etc. Eventually we walked down to 42nd St. and looped around to 8th Ave near their hotel. I noted they've opened a Swatch outlet on 45th/Broadway and filed that under "future shopping". I loves me some Swatch watch. We talked for a while on the street, made plans to meet up at some point the next day and that was that.
Friday, they made their way up to Riverside Park for a while until I met up with them that afternoon back at the hotel. I had been wanting to check out the new Time Warner complex since it opened and never got around to it. This seemed like a perfect time, as the one thing all the males in my family do enjoy doing is walking around looking at gigantic retail operations. Casinos, theme restaurants, shopping centers, wherever large construction projects and commerce have blended together, all the men in my family like to have a look. I'm not sure if the women share this trait, or adapt to survive what could be misconstrued as crushingly boring.
I have to say, just from the outside, taking in the enormity of the complex is rather breathtaking. It has had it's detractors since completion but I think it's a beautiful structure.
Inside, it was a shopaholics (me) wet dream. Hugo Boss, Armani Exchange, Cole Hahn, Williams-Sonoma and a just opened Samsung display area with all their latest and greatest cell phones, portable DVD players, laptops, washer/dryer combos (in a single unit) and internet access reproduction's are on display in various "household" settings for you to try and presumably buy. But it was the Whole Foods Market on the basement level, that was the crown jewel in this excursion. It was a chaotic (on a Friday afternoon!) cacophony of young and old, rich, hip and bohemian blend of humanity all with one thing on their minds.... spend money good. And this market is set to accommodate you any way you please. Aside from typical grocery fare they have the largest organic section of anywhere in Manhattan bar none. In addition they have three different salad bars, a select your own pizza station, packaged sushi or made fresh to order, both a hot and separate cold soup station, they had one salad bar station devoted specifically to olives, all kinds of olives. Pre-packaged dinners, sides and side-salads. You can take it to go or they provide a seating area if you want to just come in for lunch. As long as you buy it there you can eat it there. They even provide a microwave if your food needs to be re-heated. Conveniently, Jamba Juice has opened a franchise inside. I've been reading various postings about the magical qualities of the Jamba for months , so of course, I had to try. It was delicious, but seriously kids, it's a smoothy. Sure, you can get things added to it that may or may not do you any good (like extra vitamins or fiber) but is this thing gonna make you smarter or better in bed (as their signage suggests)? Don't think so. It's a smoothie. They can only do so much.
Thoroughly impressed, we were due to meet up with my cousin and his wife and besides, I was having a baby sized panic attack. My throat felt like it was closing up and I kept obsessively swallowing which of course, causes your throat muscles to fatigue which of course, makes it feel like your throat's closing up. Feedback loop. A classic panic symptom. I have a couple of theories as to what caused it which I may or may not get around to discussing later, but I had already decided, rather than suffering needlessly, I would keep the medication for panic close at hand. Dose first, ask questions later. That's my new motto. I took a Clonazepam as we were heading over to Mickey Mantle's on Central Park South to see if they had any souvenir T-Shirts in the gift shop. By the time we were heading for the subway downtown a half hour later, the compulsion and panic had vanished. Chemicals, yay!
We met my cousin and his wife on 14/7th and the location for dinner got tossed over to me. I threw out a few suggestions. When I mentioned a great burger joint I had eaten in recently just below St. Mark's on 2nd, I saw enough eyes light up that I decided to lead on. Simple folk, simple food. I wish I could tell you the name of this place, and I want to say it's Paul's, or Bob's or something very non-descriptive, but really it's just below St. Mark's place and it's absolutely lousy with neon and signage (the word of the day) declaring the greatness of their burgers and I'll be damned if it isn't true, they make a damn good burger (the hair in my cousins food notwithstanding). After dinner we waddled up to my apartment so I could walk the dog. All four of them declined my invitation to walk up five flights to my apartment and I decided mentioning that I usually do it four times a day, if not more often, would be needless bragging on my part. Notice it didn't stop me here. After dinner, I led them to a funky coffee shop (Push Cafe if you want to try out the Blog Search feature) that turned out to be closed for the Jewish holiday. Jews own coffee shops, who knew? So we settled in to the nearby Lyric Diner for coffee and dessert. Our waiter was tall, lanky, foreign and *sniff* about 8 1/2 uncut, I would say.
Saturday night included a trip to The San Gennaro Festival. Crazy on a Saturday I know, but not my idea. It was as expected a cluster fuck. This year we skipped dinner first as last year, while dinner was enjoyable, it made it impossible to try all the food for sale along the way. I mean, I like to eat but... So it was with gluttonous abandon that I enjoyed calamari, fried shrimp, sausage and peppers, a bowl of meatballs, two glasses of fresh squeezed lemonade and a pineapple/strawberry smoothie. We walked the entire length of the festival, and then the entire length in the opposite direction. Looking for sweatshirts. Specifically dark green sweatshirts that had The Feast of San Gennaro, Little Italy, NYC embroidered on them. Apparently, someone from last year's excursion returned with just such a sweatshirt. My Mom and Dad liked it so much, they pre-ordered it as a souvenir from this year. My brother has a hero complex to rival my own, so this was not a mission he was prepared to fail at. Had we found the sweatshirts at any time on the way back, we would have been out of there. As luck would have it, the only booth selling the correct color sweatshirts with the correct embroidered information were on the very first block of the festival. Triumphantly happy, we could leave for a less crowded location (read: anywhere else). I led them out of Little Italy and up to the East Village and into the New York Milkshake company
where you can order a milkshake (naturally) and also grilled cheese sandwiches and fried peanut butter and jelly (which I haven't tried yet but I must). I topped my salute to gluttony with a root beer float. We ended up walking up to Union Square and pulled up a bench in the park. My brother ended up chatting with my cousin and his wife while I regaled my sister in law with tales of how I came to know and live with The Hellcat. At some point early on, a pregnant 22 year old heroin addict took the bench next to ours. After bumming a cigarette and a light she promptly fell asleep and dropped the lit cig onto her coat. Causing my cousin's wife no end of distress. I turned to my brother and said "It'll probably go out.... or she'll start on fire. Either one." Finally, some college kid frolicking over the benches landed hard enough to roust her, at which point my cousin alerted her to her imminent danger. The my cousin's wife suggested that the pregnant 22 year old heroin addict should put out the cigarette she had just bummed. If looks could kill my cousin's wife would be incinerated.
Long Post. I've asked quite enough of you for today. Tomorrow: My long awaited trip to Coney Island (and more pictures)
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