I met Cam and Morgs at the airport late Thursday night. We ran past the security at my building so that they could sneak in without having to pay for a room. We couldn’t believe that it worked! We did the same thing the entire weekend, sneaking in and out and pretending to put our keys in the mailbox as is building protocol. It was an adrenaline rush every time. The air mattress they brought covered the extent of my floor space, but it worked out perfectly. We woke up after about three hours to head to the Goo Goo Dolls concert at Good Morning America. By 5:30AM, we had walked across Central Park to get to the stage, and were soaked through and through with sweat. 5:30AM!!! We were glad to be up early to get to pack the day with fun New York activities, and we headed to Chinatown after the concert.
In Chinatown we visited several of the sketchiest operations in existence, made some illicit purchases, and ate at an infamous side street tea room. Perhaps the best part of our day were the hours we spent perusing 4 floors of Tiffany & Co, each of us choosing our favorite jewels and dreaming in Tiffany Blue. We enjoyed a little pick me up in the form of Starbucks at the Trump Tower Plaza and imagined a return trip in the years ahead, thinking of all the turns our lives will soon be taking. Afterward, we walked down the street to a place called Milk Bar, which is famous for their “life changing cakeballs.” Life changing they were—like heaven to our taste buds. SO YUMMY! We went back today so that the girls could take some home to their friends (and get one more for ourselves, of course.)
After a good nap and shower, we went out to eat and walked along the Hudson River. We caught it just as the sun was setting and had a lovely time singing and dancing under the strings of lights on the pier. We headed to the airport to pick Clayton up, but when we got off of the train at Harlem to catch the airport shuttle, we were perturbed to see it pulling away. We ran 3 blocks (in Harlem, at night), but to no avail. The bus just kept on rolling. So we got ourselves some Michelob Ultras and hopped back on that subway headed home. We decided that was the epitome of youth—drinking beer out of paper bags on the subway in New York City. In hindsight that actually sounds more like alcoholism.
Saturday saw my return to Harlem in the form of an intern task. I had to work at the Harlem Book Festival all day. I was dreading it with all I was worth, but even though I was very much out of my element it actually turned out pretty neat. The street was lined with tents of authors, publishers, and booksellers; some famous, some not. After my work duties were over, I checked something off my list that I didn’t even know was on there—SOUL FOOD IN HARLEM. Yep, I walked over to the food festival on the cross street and had the best fried chicken and grape juice of my whole life. I don’t know what they put in that food, but it was SO GOOD!
When I finally got home, Cameron and Morgan came back from their shopping day in SoHo and we got dressed to meet up with Clayton and go to dinner. Because of subway construction, we ended up wandering across the Brooklyn Bridge. Possibly one of the funniest moments of the night was when we hopped in a cab headed back for Manhattan, Cameron in the front seat giving the driver instructions on how to get back across the bridge and to our restaurant of choice. We went to the Bridge Café, which turned out to be the perfect choice. There were no tourists (except for us…) and the food and ambiance was kind of glamorous! At that moment and in our subsequent walk along the cobblestone street, I realized there was no place I would rather be and with no other company. We laughed, sang and danced (to poor Clayton’s amusement) as we strolled down the street arm in arm. We took the Staten Island ferry—one of my favorite things to do, as you can probably tell by now—and basked in the glow of the city lights, the water breeze and perfect camaraderie.
This morning we rose from our restless slumber to hit a few last places before the girls had to catch their plane. At the Museum of Modern Art, I had one of those strange, life assessment moments alone: I found myself standing in a window box on the 5th floor in the exact place I stood nearly 10 years ago on my first visit to the city. I remember my exact thoughts at that moment, a dream that I would one day come to New York to stay. I had fallen in love with the city over the course of a short visit. Today—for the first time—I realized that am living my dream. What an incredible feeling! I took in the surrounding sky scrapers and the streets below and wondered where in the world I will be ten years from now, and what dream I will be living at that point.
The girls just left for the airport after a morning at the MoMA and a walk through the Plaza. We got matching coffee cups to commemorate the trip (lame?), and laughed as we pictured ourselves cheers-ing on a veranda in a couple of years remembering our weekend in the city. As they ran past the security guard for the last time, I realized how sad I am for them to leave and that I cannot wait to be back in the South with my best friends!
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