“One belongs to New York instantly, one belongs to it as much in five minutes as in five years.”
-Thomas Wolfe
This may seem incredibly silly to some of you, but I’ve always thought I was kinda missing out on something by never having been to New York. People all around me have talked about their NYC experiences and when they learn that I’d never been, I hear, “Oh, you have to go!” and “But you’d love it!” I feel like the world was divided into two groups, those who have been to New York, and those who have not. No other city gives me the same impression. London, Los Angeles, Rome, Paris… they’ll all iconic cities in their own right, but New York City holds a special place among them all. Maybe it is silly, but for a long time I’ve felt like I was missing out on something important, and I was jealous of those people for whom New York no longer held any special meaning.
I’ll tell you something else, right away, the first time I ever visited San Francisco (when I was 18 years old), I knew that someday I would live here. Other cities I’ve visited (Seattle, Los Angeles, Chicago, Washington DC) have struck me as nice places to live, but until this weekend, no other city has resonated with me so much. There was an almost instant sense of energy and a feel of belonging. I’m not ready to pack my bags and leave San Francisco behind yet, but someday…
So, after taking a cab from Penn Station to my hotel (thanks to buffyannotater for a great reccomendation), I had a few hours to kill with sight-seeing. I stepped out my hotel and around the corner and ran into Broadway theaters. And just beyond that, Times Square!

From Times Square I wandered up toward Rockefeller Plaza. Along the way, I encountered one of the Axis of Evil…

Then Radio City Music Hall…

Rockefeller Plaza (where I was really tempted to buy Heroes crap from the NBC store, but had to save money)…

St. Patrick’s Cathedral…

I started heading down 5th Street (aiming to meet up with buffyannotater at Washington Square Park), where I encountered the New York Public Library…

Madison Square Park…

And, finally, Washington Square Park…

I got there early enough that I had time to watch some performance art in the park and wander around the area, where I encountered New York University… the school that rejected my grad school application… twice ::sob::

At that point, Rob showed up and we went to grab some pizza. A little while later, Amy joined us. We had a delightful conversation rambling from why Rob doesn’t like Heroes to thoughts on Spiderman 3 to Broadway musicals to boyfriends to early childhood sex education. We got caught in the rain while looking for an open bathroom and ended up stopping at a second restaurant so Amy could also get something to eat. Finally, we parted ways and Amy introduced me to the NYC subway system. The labrynth underground near Times Square (over, under, around and through) makes anything in the Bay Area seem incredibly simple.
Rob suggested that before I call it a night, I ought to make another visit to Times Square and see it at night. I’m glad I did. It was awesome!

On Sunday Morning, I continued my tourist ways by heading straight to the Empire State Building. Seeing the whole city like that was amazing. I sent Mom a “Happy Mother’s Day” text message from the observatory and snapped a bunch of pictures.

After that, I hiked my way up to Central Park. It was one of those beautiful days where a gust of wind sent all those little seed pods fluttering through the air. I was almost tempted to do the carriage ride just for the romance of the day.

I angled my way through the park toward Bethesda Fountain, because I needed to sit on the edge of the fountain and recall the final scene of Angels in America:
“This disease will be the end of many of us, but not nearly all. And the dead will be commemorated, and we’ll struggle on with the living, and we are not going away. We won’t die secret deaths anymore. The world only spins forward. We will be citizens. The time has come.”

The clock was ticking by this point, so I dashed off toward the theatre for my matinee. Along the way, I encountered Strawberry Fields…

The Trump Building…

And grabbed a quick McVeggie burger at McDonald’s on my way to see my first ever Broadway play, Spring Awakening (nominated for 11 Tony’s)!

(Review of the show to come in another post)
After the show, I was in a rush. The play let out around 4:10 p.m. and my flight was leaving from JFK at 5:50! Everything seemed to take forever… first the geriatric guy in the hotel’s luggage storage took forever to serve a line of 10 people… then my cabbie made every poor decision possible (whichever lane we were in was slowest one, and he’d get in lanes that clearly said “ending in 500 feet”)… then the check-in counter wouldn’t let me check in without talking to a manager (who was hard to track down)… then the airlines manager gave me my boarding pass and said “it’s boarding now! Run!”… then I literally just tossed all my toiletries into the trash rather than even trying to determine what would make it through security… then I ran all the way to the gate as they made the last boarding call announcements… then the door was already closed when I arrived at the gate, but I made it down the runway just before the last of the airline staff climbed on board to pull the door closed. Luckily it was a direct flight and no one was in the row next to me so my panting/sweating arrival wasn’t too annoying. Still, that was the most stressful airport experience in my life. I kept imagining getting trapped at JFK with $33 left in my checking account and no idea what to do.
Yesterday, I basically slept all day. I’m so glad I took two days vacation to recover.
Tonight, Jennifer and Daniel and I are going to celebrate the death of Jerry Falwell and catch up. If I have time, I’ll write my review of Spring Awakening later, but I’m back to work tomorrow, so we’ll see.
ETA: By “celebrate the death of Jerry Falwell,” I mean have tapas and drinks while not feeling the least bit guilty that he’ gone and we’re glad. We didn’t make it to the anti-memorial on Castro and 18th (although it sounds like it would have been neat). Falwell was a vile, vicious man whose power and influence over politics is a stain on our country, and the people who died of AIDS while he convinced Reagon and others to ignore the epidemic (which he called God’s punishment and cure for homosexuality) deserve better than crocodile tears. You can bet I’ll feel the same way when James Dobson, Pat Robertson, Fred Phelps and Jesse Helms meet their end.
Posted: May 15th, 2007 under NYC, livejournal, theatregeekery.
Comments: 2