Friday, Saturday, Sunday Morning:
What can you say about New York City that hasn’t been said, sung, written, or photographed already? I know it’s a sin to impart intimate objects with human qualities, but I’m tellin’ ya… if ever there was a city that was alive… it is New York. Okay, other landmark cities I’ve been in have their own personalities; Los Angeles (big, concrete roads, beautiful people); Las Vegas (Lights, sex, money); Atlanta (funk, blues, soul, traffic); Chicago (Finance, Midwest values, Wind and Water). But New York literally seemed alive to me. There was so much energy everywhere. Nothing slowed down. Everything had a hum or a beat to it. You could put your hands on the sidewalks and they hummed and thrummed with their own rhythm, and it never ever stopped.
I entered the doorway to the Casablanca Hotel, located on West 43rd street, literally eight whole steps away from that iconic picture of Times Square, with the signs, and the triangular building parting the traffic. I couldn’t stop from looking up!
The Hotel concierge at the desk was a tall, black man dressed in (and I’m not joking here) a tuxedo. He smiled and asked me, “How may I help you today, sir?” His demeanor was fatherly, in that he portrayed the perfect fit for an upscale Manhattan Hotel. I registered and from that moment on, he addressed me as “Mr. Glaudell”. He pronounced my name perfectly. Wow.
I took the elevator to the 3rd floor where my room was located. Room 306, just two doors down from the elevator. When I entered, I imagined myself as “Rick” from the movie Casablanca… tired, weary and cynical as hell. I sluffed off my clothes and for the next half hour enjoyed one of the most luxurious showers I’ve ever had.
Refreshed and changed, I headed to “Rick’s Café” located one floor down. I heard talking, laughing and generous piano music coming from below me. I took the stairs down, and entered the café, and was greeted by a beautiful young lady standing by the front of serving area. She held a glass of champagne to me and asked if I would like a glass. Yes, I said… all the while awash in luxury and her beautiful smile.
I sampled the foods laid out along the front counter. Brie cheeses. Cookies. Crackers. Little sausages. Finger sandwiches. Caviar. And wine. Your choice of any type of wine you want. As much as you want.
Since the room was full of people, I opted for a corner over by the piano. The piano player was adept at his craft. Moving from one “favorite Pop” to another with ease. When he took a short break, I asked him, “Well. Here we are at the Casablanca Hotel. Do you play it?”
“Play what?” he asked. “Oh….”
Well, of course…and for the next few minutes, time and space…reality and film noir collide as he plays “As time goes by”. I imagine myself as “Richard Blane, American.. age 35. Cannot return to his country…for reasons a little vague.” I’m waiting for Ilsa and her husband whom I hate, yet admire to show up. Sam is at the piano, and I’ve had just a little too much to drink.
Well, after a good hour immersing myself in an old Black and White movie, I decided I should probably venture forth onto the mean streets of ol’ New York City.
I exited the elevator and the same doorman that greeted me, wished me a “fair night out on the streets.” Wow. Okay.. so I stepped out and headed out to Broadway.. and Times Square.
The street itself has been segregated in the middle by what can only be described as an huge outdoor seating area. Traffic surging around the middle, where chairs and tables sat. There were streams of people coming to and fro on the street, yet the middle was also populated with what seemed like hundreds of people.
I opted for turning up Broadway, headed north… 43rd.. 47th.. I was going to try and find the George Gershwin Theater.. that’s where the play “Wicked” was playing, and where I had tickets for the very next evening.
The walk up and down the crowded and busy street was like wandering through wonderland. Every kind of department, specialty store, restaurant, clothier, club, theater, nightclub you could ever imagined right in front of your eyes. Names everyone has heard, The Brown Derby, Sacks of 5th Avenue, Macy’s (the REAL one…where they have the thanksgiving parade.. and where “miracle on 34th street” took place!), The Paramount Theater (more on that later), The Ed Sullivan Theater… It was like having the world at your fingertips. All you had to do was enter..
Street vendors everywhere!! And purses! Oh my gosh, Ladies!!! Thousands upon thousands of purses for sale on tables on nearly every corner… Magazine stands… Hot Dog-Peanuts-Sandwich vendors…Rickshaw taxis (I still say that’s the wave of the future!)… sidewalk saviors squawking about the end of the world and repent now… tour bus ticket hawkers….sandwich board salesmen selling tickets to the newest comedy club… there’s lady liberty in full blue dress signing autographs… people walking 10 dogs at a time, all on tangled leashes… yellow taxis everywhere…tour buses dodging in and out of stops at the speed of light…
Funny thing was, I never ever felt in danger at any time… there were truly cops everywhere… most of them were directing lost citizens… pointing here and there. And it was amazingly clean (well, except for the smells coming up from the grated sewers at some of the cross streets) and safe. And even contrary to what some people have said about New York people in general.. I found the experience to be unbelievably pleasant.
I went as far up Broadway as I could manage… stopped into an Irish Pub named “McGuinnies” (no, not like the beer)… and had a wheelhouse. I stopped into the M&M’s store to look around… wow. That’s a lot of chocolate! I turned back just a block up from the Ed Sullivan Theater (wishing David Letterman would tape his shows on the weekend!) and headed back.
I noticed on one spot a few blocks from my hotel, there was a center section, which looked like bleachers and lines of people waiting to enter. I didn’t know it until later, but these were the “last minute” Broadway Play tickets… If a show does not sell out… they raffle off the tickets to the people in the bleachers…first come, first serve. Up until just recently it was cash only.. but now they do accept credit cards. It is possible (I was told) to get some good seats at a marquee Broadway play for pennies on the dollar…
I’m thinking I was really hungry (I had passed in and out of about 30 restaurants during my evening stroll), so I settled on a little restaurant (recommended to me by the father-like desk clerk at the hotel) called “The Brooklyn Diner”…located just one door down from the hotel. I decided to take his advice. I paid about 35 dollars for a burger, fries and 3 beers. Okay, well the burger WAS excellent.. but 35 bucks?? Oh, well. When in Rome, I told myself!
I headed back to the hotel, full and satisfied. I did stop back to Rick’s Café in the hotel… to listen a little more to the piano player and have some more wine. It was nearly 11 p.m. and the piano player had left, but the wine was still being served…
I sat down next to the bronze elephant (one of two) that graced the room… drank my wine and thought to myself…
“Ah. It Is Good To Be The King!” And that is exactly how I felt!
What can you say about New York City that hasn’t been said, sung, written, or photographed already? I know it’s a sin to impart intimate objects with human qualities, but I’m tellin’ ya… if ever there was a city that was alive… it is New York. Okay, other landmark cities I’ve been in have their own personalities; Los Angeles (big, concrete roads, beautiful people); Las Vegas (Lights, sex, money); Atlanta (funk, blues, soul, traffic); Chicago (Finance, Midwest values, Wind and Water). But New York literally seemed alive to me. There was so much energy everywhere. Nothing slowed down. Everything had a hum or a beat to it. You could put your hands on the sidewalks and they hummed and thrummed with their own rhythm, and it never ever stopped.
I entered the doorway to the Casablanca Hotel, located on West 43rd street, literally eight whole steps away from that iconic picture of Times Square, with the signs, and the triangular building parting the traffic. I couldn’t stop from looking up!
The Hotel concierge at the desk was a tall, black man dressed in (and I’m not joking here) a tuxedo. He smiled and asked me, “How may I help you today, sir?” His demeanor was fatherly, in that he portrayed the perfect fit for an upscale Manhattan Hotel. I registered and from that moment on, he addressed me as “Mr. Glaudell”. He pronounced my name perfectly. Wow.
I took the elevator to the 3rd floor where my room was located. Room 306, just two doors down from the elevator. When I entered, I imagined myself as “Rick” from the movie Casablanca… tired, weary and cynical as hell. I sluffed off my clothes and for the next half hour enjoyed one of the most luxurious showers I’ve ever had.
Refreshed and changed, I headed to “Rick’s Café” located one floor down. I heard talking, laughing and generous piano music coming from below me. I took the stairs down, and entered the café, and was greeted by a beautiful young lady standing by the front of serving area. She held a glass of champagne to me and asked if I would like a glass. Yes, I said… all the while awash in luxury and her beautiful smile.
I sampled the foods laid out along the front counter. Brie cheeses. Cookies. Crackers. Little sausages. Finger sandwiches. Caviar. And wine. Your choice of any type of wine you want. As much as you want.
Since the room was full of people, I opted for a corner over by the piano. The piano player was adept at his craft. Moving from one “favorite Pop” to another with ease. When he took a short break, I asked him, “Well. Here we are at the Casablanca Hotel. Do you play it?”
“Play what?” he asked. “Oh….”
Well, of course…and for the next few minutes, time and space…reality and film noir collide as he plays “As time goes by”. I imagine myself as “Richard Blane, American.. age 35. Cannot return to his country…for reasons a little vague.” I’m waiting for Ilsa and her husband whom I hate, yet admire to show up. Sam is at the piano, and I’ve had just a little too much to drink.
Well, after a good hour immersing myself in an old Black and White movie, I decided I should probably venture forth onto the mean streets of ol’ New York City.
I exited the elevator and the same doorman that greeted me, wished me a “fair night out on the streets.” Wow. Okay.. so I stepped out and headed out to Broadway.. and Times Square.
The street itself has been segregated in the middle by what can only be described as an huge outdoor seating area. Traffic surging around the middle, where chairs and tables sat. There were streams of people coming to and fro on the street, yet the middle was also populated with what seemed like hundreds of people.
I opted for turning up Broadway, headed north… 43rd.. 47th.. I was going to try and find the George Gershwin Theater.. that’s where the play “Wicked” was playing, and where I had tickets for the very next evening.
The walk up and down the crowded and busy street was like wandering through wonderland. Every kind of department, specialty store, restaurant, clothier, club, theater, nightclub you could ever imagined right in front of your eyes. Names everyone has heard, The Brown Derby, Sacks of 5th Avenue, Macy’s (the REAL one…where they have the thanksgiving parade.. and where “miracle on 34th street” took place!), The Paramount Theater (more on that later), The Ed Sullivan Theater… It was like having the world at your fingertips. All you had to do was enter..
Street vendors everywhere!! And purses! Oh my gosh, Ladies!!! Thousands upon thousands of purses for sale on tables on nearly every corner… Magazine stands… Hot Dog-Peanuts-Sandwich vendors…Rickshaw taxis (I still say that’s the wave of the future!)… sidewalk saviors squawking about the end of the world and repent now… tour bus ticket hawkers….sandwich board salesmen selling tickets to the newest comedy club… there’s lady liberty in full blue dress signing autographs… people walking 10 dogs at a time, all on tangled leashes… yellow taxis everywhere…tour buses dodging in and out of stops at the speed of light…
Funny thing was, I never ever felt in danger at any time… there were truly cops everywhere… most of them were directing lost citizens… pointing here and there. And it was amazingly clean (well, except for the smells coming up from the grated sewers at some of the cross streets) and safe. And even contrary to what some people have said about New York people in general.. I found the experience to be unbelievably pleasant.
I went as far up Broadway as I could manage… stopped into an Irish Pub named “McGuinnies” (no, not like the beer)… and had a wheelhouse. I stopped into the M&M’s store to look around… wow. That’s a lot of chocolate! I turned back just a block up from the Ed Sullivan Theater (wishing David Letterman would tape his shows on the weekend!) and headed back.
I noticed on one spot a few blocks from my hotel, there was a center section, which looked like bleachers and lines of people waiting to enter. I didn’t know it until later, but these were the “last minute” Broadway Play tickets… If a show does not sell out… they raffle off the tickets to the people in the bleachers…first come, first serve. Up until just recently it was cash only.. but now they do accept credit cards. It is possible (I was told) to get some good seats at a marquee Broadway play for pennies on the dollar…
I’m thinking I was really hungry (I had passed in and out of about 30 restaurants during my evening stroll), so I settled on a little restaurant (recommended to me by the father-like desk clerk at the hotel) called “The Brooklyn Diner”…located just one door down from the hotel. I decided to take his advice. I paid about 35 dollars for a burger, fries and 3 beers. Okay, well the burger WAS excellent.. but 35 bucks?? Oh, well. When in Rome, I told myself!
I headed back to the hotel, full and satisfied. I did stop back to Rick’s Café in the hotel… to listen a little more to the piano player and have some more wine. It was nearly 11 p.m. and the piano player had left, but the wine was still being served…
I sat down next to the bronze elephant (one of two) that graced the room… drank my wine and thought to myself…
“Ah. It Is Good To Be The King!” And that is exactly how I felt!
1 comment:
Ok-I'm all caught up now...just waiting for the story about the massage!
Sheri
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