So, I went to New York.
New York City to be exact, although most of you probably assumed. This idea in itself has always been a mystery to me. It's as though New York City has become a city-state or every other city has been blasted off a map of importance. Regardless, I've never been to NYC as an adult, with the ability to legally party, so, as you can imagine, this was a real treat.
I went to surprise my friend for her 30th birthday. I took a red-eye from LA and arrived shortly before 6 am. So from there, I hopped in a cab and spent the next 30 minutes dreaming of what I would find. It's important to note that it has been previously documented that my idea of living in NYC is shaped by Meg Ryan in the classic film, You've Got Mail. As I cruised along in this cab, past the freeways, giant buildings, and rivers, I could feel my encompassment of Ms. Ryan setting in.
According to the movie, NYC is a bright, cheerful, bustling hub of unique individuals leading small, but valuable lives. This aspect, along with bouquets of sharpened pencils, beautiful fall weather, and expensive children's book stores, was pretty much what I was expecting.
Boy, was I wrong. The Big Apple is now The Big Lemon.
Don't misinterpret what I'm saying, however. I had a helluva time. But this is what I really got.
I was sticky probably 84% of the time. I've dealt with humidity for most of my life, but my geography got the best of me and I didn't realize Meg Ryan was sticky in You've Got Mail, which for future reference will be YGM. I would briskly walk to the subway, sweating whatever genitalia I have off, wait in the even stickier, interesting underground air, then step on to the air conditioned subway for relief. Upon this life-altering step, the sweat dries almost immediately and the pneumonia sets in. I had no opportunity to watch a butterfly get on and off to buy any sort of hat because my eyes, I'm pretty sure, were frozen over with icicles.
Next, I took a good walk through Harlem, where I'm almost positive Meg's bookstore was NOT located. There were no bums sleeping outside the stores and there was no trash anywhere in Meg's neighborhood. It took this realization that Meg Ryan's NYC was a fake NYC, and I am appalled that YGM is not a documentary, as I had the impression of it being.
Next, were the hipsters. We've all seen them. We've all gawked, but Williamsburg took hipsters to a whole new level. In no way did I see Tom Hanks pass any sort of hipster as he strolled on his merry way to Fox Books. They represented some of the most interesting patterns, glasses, and hairstyles. Needless to say, I refrained from taking pictures, although this was painstakingly difficult. Especially the guy ironically making balloon animals at the subway platform.
It, also, would not be a NYC trip if I hadn't spotted a rat. It was f'ing gross. There is nothing else to say.
I did get to encounter a few gems while there, despite my YGM dreams being unfulfilled by unrealistic expectations. I visited a prohibition bar from the 20's where I ordered a drink called, "Plan B." I sucked at pool at a place called Alligator Lounge that gave you a pizza every time you ordered a drink. You read that correctly. Every. Time. The drinks, the folks, and the cuisine took a piece of my heart now, baby and once again elevated the city back to my pedestal of awesomeness.
It's clear that my dreams of becoming Meg Ryan in YGM will never be a reality. Mostly because I can't justify using AOL as an adult in 2013, so I'm not that mad about it.
Thanks for soundin' down.
A catechism ( //; Ancient Greek: κατηχισμός from kata = "down" + echein = "to sound", literally "to sound down" (into the ears), is a summary or exposition of doctrine, traditionally used inChristian religious teaching from New Testament times to the present. Catechisms are doctrinal manuals often in the form of questions followed by answers to be memorized, a format that has been used in non-religious or secular contexts as well