OK... I tried. We've been "laying low" as
we're still a bit ill. However a bad case of
cabin fever led me to plan a mid day jaunt
downtown to the Flatiron District. Often
accused of never doing anything different,
I carefully plotted a new course. You see,
we rarely if ever frequent that hood. So it
seemed that a mini adventure might do us
both good. Sadly, I was more than wrong.
My good intentions to explore pushed us
over the precipice into a sea of sopping
precipitation. Next time I'll keep to what
I know and remain safe and dry at home!
Eager to get out of the house, we rode
down the elevator glowing in a haze of
naive anticipation. Given the weather
had warmed up, we both donned our
spring togs. Upon exiting the lobby
we discovered that our optimism was
out of touch with reality. Neither of us
like carrying bumbershoots. However
if I have to, I go big, golf course BIG.
Whereas Frank opts to carry along one
of the diminutive pop up variety. It's
safe to say that neither of us were truly
prepared to brave the liquid elements.
Cabs are always scarce when it rains.
Given the subway is often faster, we
hit the tubes. Apparently everyone else
in Manhattan decided to do the same.
Sadly the Transit Authority decided
that this was the perfect weekend to
suspend service due to construction.
Therefore every train was packed with
damp, fetid, and occasionally strongly
scented riders. In order to avoid rain
I opted to transfer requiring walking
miles and climbing stairs down into
dark, dank tunnels. Next time, CAB!
Don't ask me why but it seems that
when someone carries an umbrella,
they lose all sense of proportion.
Hence the constant bumping and
banging of nylon appendages as they
navigate the city. Layer on top of that
the collective desire to avoid stepping
in puddles and suddenly the sidewalk
is transformed into a roller derby not
public conveyance. "Get out of the
way" doesn't describe the rudely self
consumed horde that we had to fight
during our ill planned mid day foray!
In an effort to do something different,
I thought lunch at Mr. Batali's Eataly
would be fun. Sadly at least several
thousand others appeared to also agree.
I usually make a reservation prior but
in an attempt to be impromptu did not.
So we navigated the hordes only to
meet the maitre d' who informed us
the wait was three quarters of an hour.
Rather than patiently wait I stormed
over to a nearby dive only to be told
that the wait was forty five minutes.
Starved for sustenance, we sat quietly.
It seemed as if every young, straight
couple and their out of town parents
were brunching at our hot spot. The
decor was full of hard surfaces that
require everyone to scream in order
to order. When dumped in the middle
of a place like that, all I can hear is a
cacophony that makes me a somewhat
unappetizing companion. No wonder
I prefer the quiet of the Carlyle for
dejeuner. We enjoyed a leisurely meal
only because our waiter ignored us.
Obviously service wasn't on the menu.
After brunch we went to Restoration
Hardware. Packed with young kids
decorating their first adult spaces, we
wandered the store searching for help.
Finally I overheard a staff member tell
someone that if they wanted advice,
they had to make an appointment and
wait about forty five minutes (see a
pattern?!). Not only were we sadly
sodden, I was unwilling to wait. Later
that night I logged on-line to get what
I needed in no time with no wait!
Satisfaction is not at all guaranteed!
Finally we went to the movies. Eager
to view Wes Anderson's newest flick -
Hotel Grand Budapest, we scurried up
to the ticket counter. A sign indicated
the next two shows were SOLD OUT.
It makes sense that other New Yorkers
decided to also stay dry and see a film
as surreal as this rainy day in our city.
At that point we simply gave up. The
excitement wasn't over. On our return
subway ride home, we reveled in a six
foot four drag queen who was beyond
beautiful even when wet! Road show!
As we walked home from the station,
I lost it. The fact that after hours out
we had accomplished absolutely zero
finally got to me. My poor Frank was
barely recuperating yet I had dragged
him out in the rain. Trying to make a
go of it, he suggested we stop at a cafe
for some coffee. That sent me off the
deep end. Like the wicked witch of
the west I dissolved into a puddle.
My one and only then took my hand
and led me home. One thing is sure,
next time HE will make the plans!
