A Wonderful Town

My vacation plan was to drive from Maryland to Portland, Maine, on the Friday before this holiday weekend. But on Thursday, my girlfriend Jacqui begged me to go up and stay with her in NYC where she was at the Hilton on business. Who could turn down an offer like that? A chance to see some of my closest friends in my favorite city? I rescheduled my first-ever eyebrow waxing for earlier in the day on Thursday, the first day of my much-needed vacation. Then I packed and hit the road around 3:30pm for the 207-mile drive to 53rd and 6th in the Big Apple.

Gad. Five hours later I arrived. I was making good time in my little Hybrid SUV until I was 37 lousy miles outside of the city on the Jersey turnpike. (Speaking of my car, I recently discovered a 6-CD player under the passenger seat that I never knew was there. Fancy that! It came in handy for this car trip.)

Anyway, from that point on the turnpike all the way to the hotel traffic was bumper-to-bumper. It took me nearly two hours to go the last 37 miles. Geez! The problem is, after you squeeze through the toll booth outside the Lincoln Tunnel, there are about eight lanes of LA freeway-like traffic merging into the two lanes of the right-hand tube. My god, why don’t they build more tubes for this 79-year-old tunnel???

Once I was inside the city, every east-west road I tried was backed up into the intersections. Nonetheless, I was in NYC!! It felt like home. I was so happy and so energized just being there. Even my old doorman was happy to see me.

Jacqui and I ate dinner with her cool friend Farrah. (Not Fawcett; this Farrah is much more beautiful than that other Farrah.) The three of us walked over to 8th Avenue, my old stomping ground, for a wonderful Italian dinner and lots of laughs. I felt sorry for our waiter. After Farrah spent 15 minutes explaining to the waiter exactly what she wanted on her plate, I chided her, “I’m never eating out with you again.” And then Jacqui started inadvertently putting an “a” on the end of her verbs as if we were Florence itself, and no one could stop laughing. (You speaka da language?) My crazy friends!

The next day while Jacqui worked I went shopping on Fifth Avenue. God I miss Fifth Avenue. Tiffany’s is just a short walk from the hotel, and I couldn’t resist getting a little something for myself and a couple of gifts too. (I can only afford to shop on the Silver Floor, but that doesn't make it any less fun.) I also stopped in at the huge Disney store and bought Christmas presents for my nieces Maddie and Katie before going back to meet up with Jacqui.

As much as I hated the thought of setting foot in my old office building again, we walked over to the Microsoft office so I could see an old TAM buddy, Elana. New York’s been good to her – with her long dark hair and eyes, we decided she should quit Microsoft and become a model. She’s not a big fan of the City, but she sure looks the part - a true Miss Madison Avenue.

Jacqui and I couldn’t wait to get down to Canal street to do some designer shopping. I swear it’s a hoot. We looked for our buddy Mohammed at the same corner where we bought purses and sunglasses last year. When we couldn’t find him, we asked another dude (who was selling “Louis Vuitton, Burberry . . .”) if Mohammed was still around. Dude #2 picked up his cell, made a call, and the next thing you know, Mohammed appeared in his oversized ball cap.

Jacqui was looking for a specific LV purse that she’d seen earlier, behind a small hidden door in a 5' x 5' room that had a ladder propped up in the corner leading up to a hole in the ceiling. Jacqui and I were crammed in this back "room" with two other shoppers, plus the Asian "sales" guy, admiring the purses lining the walls. He wanted $38 for the LV purse, but Jacqui thought she could get it for $35 elsewhere, so she turned it down. I offered $25 for a gorgeous Coach. He wanted $60 because "it new design." I laughed and told him forget it. Then, just as we were getting ready to leave he said, "Forty dollar. Final offer."

Anyway, back out on the street, Mohammed went off for a while and came back empty-handed, so Jacqui and I continued our search for The Purse, which she now absolutely had to have since it seemed to be out of reach.

On the next block, I asked a young Asian "sales" girl if she had this LV purse. She took us down the street, around a corner, and through a gray steel door onto a small landing above a darkish cellar. I didn’t think my painful left knee could take the steep walk down the uneven wooden stairs, so Jacqui went down with LV Girl while I stayed upstairs by the door. Moments later, LV Girl appeared on the lower landing, shaking her finger, “No open door! No open door!” I was like, “No, no open door!” Believe me, I wasn’t planning on it.

Unfortunately, LV Girl didn’t have the purse either. When they got back to the top of the stairs, she peeked out through a peep hole in the door and called a buddy on her cell phone to make sure the coast was clear before opening the door to let us out. I swear.

Later, after another guy told her he wanted $180 for the same purse ("I swear it's real - it was stolen"), Jacqui went off alone down Broadway with another sales girl while I shopped for sun glasses on the corner. It took her a while to get back. Just as soon as I sent a text message to her cell, she showed up. This time she had to climb five flights of stairs - and still no purse!

Our friend Peggy (a.k.a. Good Peggy) suggested this [edited] story for the New York Times:

Girl Almost Turned Prostitute While Frantically Shopping on Canal Street in Pursuit of THE Louis Vuitton Bag.

Girl claims "but you don't understand. . . I GOTTA HAVE this bag." She barely escapes becoming a Canal Street prostitute as she scampers down five flights of stairs out of the building, all the while never losing the grip on her Louis Vuitton bag.

And that’s how it’s done on Canal Street.

That night it was dinner at Ellen’s Stardust diner with our dear friend and former manager Karthik. That was a blast. The singing entertainment is unbeatable for the price of admission to the restaurant – free. It was too loud in there to talk, so afterward we walked a block up Broadway in the newly falling rain to the nearest Starbucks for coffee and dessert. It was great catching up with Karthik, although I was horrified to hear about how poorly my old Wall Street customer is being treated since my departure.

The next morning I left NYC at about 10:20am for the 300-mile drive to Portland, Maine. What a nightmare of a drive that turned out to be. About 15 toll booths and nearly nine hours later, I finally made it to the Holiday Inn by the Bay, where I was greeted by a rude security guard-wannabe in the parking lot. Imagine driving halfway up the east coast averaging just 35mph in bumper-to-bumper traffic. Not fun. I wasn't in a good mood to begin with, so this asshole was the last thing I needed at the time.

It was rather unfortunate that the first person I met in the state of Maine had to be such a jerk. But thank goodness my first impression was wrong. I told the front desk clerk about his lousy attitude, and she was apologetic - even offered me a free drink in the lounge. (Too bad I don't drink!) That guy was obviously not from Maine. Everyone else I met in my brief 36 hours there was nothing short of polite, nice, helpful, and courteous. Even the dogs I met were nice! And there were lots of dogs - Portland is obviously a pet-friendly town.

Stay tuned for some photos of beautiful Maine.