Tales of New York
A tired, hot and sticky kabbes emerged from JFK airport at about 2pm on Wednesday 23rd July having taken an hour to get through US immigration. Hey, those guys weren’t letting just anybody into the country. So that made me feel kinda special. A 30 minute taxi ride later to the hotel in Chinatown and having dropped off the stuff, the first thing I wanted to do was pay my respects to colleagues who died in the WTC. So I left the hotel at about 2:45pm and set off south.
“Wow,” I thought, “there’s a lot of helicopters and police around.” “They must keep security tight these days,” I considered as I paused to let three screaming cop cars zoom past me. As I walked past City Hall, police presence was intensifying by the second, but I was hungry and such things were of secondary consideration as I turned into a Subway just after City Hall to order some kind of meat-and-condiment gap-filler. At this point, the radio was blaring something out that some part of my brain was telling me I should listen to. It seemed that shots had just been heard in City Hall and at that time they were suggesting that someone was firing out the window. I was impressed. Less than an hour away from the airport and I was already in the middle of an Authentic New York Experience.
I continued my way to the site of the WTC but wasn’t prepared for the ghoulish mass of tourists with cameras who clearly treated the whole thing as the afternoon’s entertainment. I think it was one of the least pleasant sights I’ve come across. Where do these people come from? Do they really think that pointing their kodak over the fence and posing in front of the site is appropriate? Jeez. So I turned around to make my way back to the hotel.
However, by that point the police had sealed off the area around City Hall and crowds were forming. So I decided to join in the world-renowned NY sport of gawking. An ABC newsman tried to clear some room on the pavement. In London this would have resulted in people meekly moving aside. Apparently in NY it instead provokes comments such as, “Hey, it’s a public sidewalk. I got every right.” The news guy commented on how crowds were now forming and the cameraman panned across, so within a couple of hours of arrival I was already on TV. That evening I tried to stay up as long as possible and so collapsed after a room service burger at the almost respectible time of 8:30pm.
Thursday was the day I gave the course. In the evening I decided to do a bit of exploring to wondered around SoHo, TriBeCa and Grenwich Village. I had a nice meal with my book and returned to the hotel. I was just watching a film and wondering about bed when Billdo called. Pucette, manhattan and others were in a piano bar, I was told, do I want to go? Oh yes. Now, that bar was fantastic. Atmosphere was great. And it had the benefit of Starkyld’s* ass. Not to mention Pucette’s cleavage. Let me explain.
There’s this one particular song that seems to be a particular favorite. And when it got to a particular point in that particular song, the singer soberly informed us that at that point a member of the audience normally moons everyone. Sure enough, Starkyld was straight up there, showing us her particulars. With one star tattooed on each cheek. And thus a legend is born. And the cleavage? Well that was more to do with the shirt that a song. But there are some photos that I won’t go into in too much detail that paint more words than my 1000 or so here.
Fast forward to Friday night and the evening of the DopeDinner (MidWordCapitalisations are definitely all the thing in NyC). Firstly I got to have a very nice chat at my end of the table with BigGirl + son (Zoltar, was it?),delphica, vix and Cosmo (and was it you, jadis?, who were immediately surrounding me. (Apologies to those who were then 1 distant, 2 distant and so on, but if I start trying to remember exactly who was where I’m onto a loser – I’d had three pints before any of the rest of you even got there). I remember that we discussed the exit routes of big ducks and the finer points of cornflowers. I also remember that the drawings done one the tablecloth with the crayons provided were somewhat disturbing.
After the meal I moved myself up the other end of the table and found myself trying to describe the rules of cricket to monkeymule, manhattan, Oxymoron + very charming boyf (and Canby? Can’t remember who else was listening now, since I was in full flow. Again, apologies.) I think I did about as reasonable a job of explaining lbw as could be expected under the circumstances.
Hmm. I definitely remember conversations with others (billdo, I’m looking at you) but can’t fit them into the above. Sorry to anyone I haven’t mentioned by name. You’re ace too.
Onto Walkers, bar of bras. At least three, to be precise, hanging from various parts of the bar. Which included a large stuffed alligator hanging from the ceiling. Who was it that decided at one point that it needed a cigarette? Was that you, Wonko? Wonko is very droll, incidentally. But you probably already knew that. But that evening will be particularly remembered for Canby’s and biggirl’s decision to strut their funkies on the bar, with the whole bar cheering them on. You go, girls.
Saturday was MOMA day. Or more specifically, MOMAQNS (being NY, should that not be MoMAQns?) Take it from me: Max Beckmann was one disturbed individual. He must have been a laugh riot to have around, what with his dwellings on torture and fish. Don’t ask. Billdo, jadis, vix and I thus took in some culture followed by some greasy food in a Queens diner. We put Roberta Flack, Elvis, Tony Bennet (and what was the other?) on the booth jukebox. I’d never seen a booth jukebox before – I’m going to start a petition to have them added to every restaurant in the land.
Not a bad merry-go-round for just a few days away. I had a blast and would heartily recommend all of these fine people to you all. I hope that I can reciprocate the hospitality some day.
One last word to say thanks to mannie for your role in organising Walkers and particular thanks to billdo, who started the DopeDinner thread thus galvanising support, organised my arrival at the piano bar on Thursday and sorted my MOMA visit on Saturday. Above and beyond, Bill, above and beyond.
Thanks one and all
Patrick
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