N to the Y to the C

The boyfriend and I spent last week in New York City, hence the radio silence, and I spent the weekend recovering, unevenly burning/tanning sunbathing on our deck under a gloriously, unseasonably hot sun. One definitely needs to decompress after five days in Manhattan.

We landed in Newark and took the train into Penn Station where we walked around in circles until we decided to climb any steps leading upward, figuring we'd eventually come out at street level. Luckily, our hotel was literally down the street from the station, and there seemed to be quite a few people walking around with body bags suitcases, so we didn't feel out of place.

Our first night was spent at Madison Square Garden watching game 1 of the conference final between the New York Rangers and New Jersey Devils.

Yeah, it was pretty awesome. Best part? Souvenir hand towel which I will proudly display when attending yoga classes, 'cause I'm cool like that.

The next day we meandered down 5th Avenue in the rain, on our way to the Museum of Modern Art, which, if you didn't know, is closed on Tuesdays. We didn't know. So we decided to at least check out the MoMA gift shop to soften the blow of disappointment. I bought some handy little journals to jot down my brilliant ideas 'cause I was feeling particularly artsy, you know, all writer-like and shit. And don't writers walk around with journals?

Then we decided to head to Times Square and decide what show we wanted to see that night for which we could get half-price tickets. The only show I really wanted to see was The Book of Mormon which, of course, was sold out, or we could get tickets for like, a bazillion dollars. So, not an option. Unfortunately, none of the other shows seemed particularly appealing so we decided to wander aimlessly about while trying to figure out what to do about the Broadway show situation when, lo and behold...

A nice, young lady asks us if we want to attend a taping of the David Letterman show, for free. This takes a moment to sink in. I used to watch Letterman all the time in high school and university, when I didn't have to get up early. So we decide, what the heck, ya, let's do it! Turns out this chick was legit and we got to see a live taping of the show at the Ed Sullivan Theatre. If MoMA were open on Tuesdays, we may never have seen Letterman.

We did end up going to see Avenue Q the following night, a Sesame Street satire of sorts, where cute puppets have sex on stage and sing songs like "The Internet is for porn". I'm not a fan of the musical genre but this, I enjoyed, especially having grown up watching Sesame Street.

We also made it to MoMa, which was open on Wednesday. I pretended to look like I understood what some of this stuff was about:

I know, very convincing. Don't I look deep in thought? Pink planks make you think, man. Just sayin'.

We also dropped by what I consider to be a holy place, due to my devotion to Tina Fey:

Security didn't have to be so rough with me, though. I mean, Tina and I ARE friends. In my mind. And like The Secret says: "Thoughts become things". I was just trying to manifest. Is that so wrong? (Ok, there was no actual scuffle with security. Only in my imagination, where I enter 30 Rock and cry out: "Tina! Tina!" à la Marlon Brando in A Streetcar Named Desire and security promptly removes me from the building.)

I really hope this isn't all that's left of the Occupy movement:

Kudos to this guy for puttin' it out there and garnering some attention but it's one guy. What happened to Occupy? In stark contrast, we stumbled upon a fashion shoot on our way to lower Manhattan:

Ahh, capitalism at its best, selling us stuff we don't need in pretty packages. It was cool, though, seeing this in person, kinda like: "Oh my GOD! Is that a REAL model?" Like they're some kind of endangered species or something. With the right agent, lighting, stylist, hair and makeup artist, coke dealer, personal trainer and chef, I too could be a model.

This is just a cool shot from the 86th floor observatory of the Empire State Building:

On our way back to the airport, we got to experience Penn Station at rush hour, where I was almost smothered to death trying to board a train to Jersey. Then, the train was so packed, we stood in the vestibule. Even though there were other people in there with us, I sensed this was against security protocol since, if you looked down, you could see train tracks in the space where two cars were hinged together, and you had better hold on. Good times...