escape from new york

[oiran]

jed's big new york adventure

Friday
I got into New York via MacArthur airport in Ronkonkoma on Long Island. This is the only New York airport that Southwest flies into, and I want a free ticket. The fact that pretty much any airline will let me build up points for a free ticket did not make much of an impression on me until later, long post-purchase of the SW ticket.

I took the LIRR in from Ronkonkoma to Penn Station. Many people with heavy duty Lawn Guyland accents kept asking me if they were on the correct side of the platform to get the train into Manhattan. A chick with vertical bangs and the Lawn Guyland accent kept insisting to me that, "Really, it's not supposed to be this hot. Really, it's not. It's never this hot." And then she asked me the correct-side-of-platform question. Because, obviously, I am the source of all wisdom.

Taxi ride from Penn to B&B was uneventful. I was completely disoriented, which was okay by me. Was greeted, sort of, by innkeeper and her tiny, vicious-sounding poodle. One of those poodles that's supposed to be white but has brown around it's mouth and ass. I hate that in a dog, though I suppose it would be even worse in a person.

Dana and I hadn't seen each other in over a year, and it was nice to get reacquainted face-to-face. We didn't have much time before we were scheduled to meet fleegull, nerodi and scribblinlenore for dinner on the Upper West Side (if I remember correctly). Much squeeing and talk of gay porn and peg boys ensued. Nerodi has no ankles, but I think she's already covered that issue in her own journal. Also, the restaurant, Rain, was excellent, and I had the best phad thai I've had in a couple of years.

We left late, taking the subway back to "our" neighborhood, planning to then walk to the club where Kicky's show was supposed to be taking place. Unfortunately, I had received misleading information from the organizers of the burlesque festival, and then the cab driver didn't believe we wanted to go to the address we gave him, and…well, basically, we missed her show by about a minute. So. I went to New York to see my costume friend perform and managed to not do so. Fuckity.

Also? The Pussycat Lounge is the sleaziest club I've been to in a long, long time. I would not recommend it as a venue to anyone who doesn't plan to masturbate in public.

Saturday

We got up early-ish (for me, anyway) and went to La Casa Day Spa (recommended by scribblinlenore) to experience their floatation tank. shaggirl has floated in the past, and is planning on starting a float business in the near future, and I have wanted to try it ever since seeing Altered States back when I was young and impressionable. Of course, in the movie, floating makes William Hurt hallucinate a thousand-eyed goat, which he kills, and then he turns into a giant protoplasm blob and thrashes around…and that's not exactly a recommendation for floating, I don't suppose, but I've still always wanted to try it.

Well, I didn't turn into a giant blob, but I did nap: On a recliner in the waiting room (while Dana was floating), then in the sauna, then in the floatation tank. I was indeed rather exhausted from travel/excitement, but I'm not typically a napper, and I think part of my readiness to sleep has to do with the relaxing nature of the float.

I wish I could describe the float more…dramatically, in a way that would compel you all to make a pilgrimage to Kansas City to try it out when Dana opens her spa, but the nature of floating is non-drama. It's a mermaidish experience, which did give me a bit of a thrill. I mean, you FLOAT like a cork (or fish-tailed siren) and you can wiggle around and test the limits of your floatiness (not limited), and then you can drift off into vague, gay-porn-flavored fantasies and take a nap. It's an excellent relaxation technique, and I think it would work equally well without the gay porn overtones.

And, no, we did not get the boutique enemas we had dared each other to try. We were warned of leakage. ANAL LEAKAGE. It was hot and humid, and anal leakage would have not added to the vacation experience under such conditions.

We then wandered toward the Empire State Building. Now, I had wanted to go to New York my entire life, and I think Dana felt the same. Years and years of yearning prepared me to be intimidated and overwhelmed, but I was neither intimidated nor overwhelmed. The Empire State Building seemed like it…could have been taller. The crowds were not pushy and mean and rude. The shopkeepers were all sweet as pie. Strangers offered us directions completely unbidden. New York became a real place--a much more welcoming place than I would have anticipated--while we were walking along the sidewalks sweating and eating ice cream. It stopped being a place I'd always wanted to be and became another of the places I had always and already belonged. So, as fully-assimilated city-dwellers, we detoured from the Empire State Building to go to Jim Hanley's Universe and shop for comic books.

My local shop claimed that they could not order either issue of The Escapist for me, nor could they get any future issues of Jessica Abel's La Perdida because they were supposedly "out of print." Well, fuck you, too, fanboys. So I got all those things at Jim Hanley's, plus some Sandman and some genderfuck thing that looked cool. We tried and tried to find BL manga, but had no luck. Dana did get some Inu Yasha and explained the story to me, and we laughed at many pictures of girls fondling dog ears ;)

We did enter the Empire State Building lobby, even went so far as to look at the ticket line, but changed our minds and instead visited a lobby jewelry store. I used to collect Swatch watches back when they first started making them, and I am always drawn to the shiny! and design aspects. I fell in love with one two years back and never bought it, but realized I had no idea how to describe it to the nice jewelry store guy. As we were leaving, I saw that it was featured on an old Swatch poster, squealed and pointed, and clapped my hands like a little girl when they dug it out of backstock and sold it to me. So, I went to the Empire State Building and bought an old plastic watch! Whoo!

After a brief stop back at our B&B, we got dressed up and went to Agozar to meet with New York fen and the rest of the out-of-towners.

I think this is a complete list of those who were there, though I know there were a couple of people whom I never did meet, and they may or may not have been LJers:

scribblinlenore, nerodi, pun, fleegull, autumnyte, koimistress, valentinemichel, lexalot, lolaperhapslex, dove95, astolat, coffeejunkii, tstar78, corinna_5, harriet_spy, teaphile, orbifold, msdaccxx, tiffanynichelle, and a very pretty girl who I was told was geekturnedvamp, though I didn't meet her.

I hugged many people. I didn't get to talk long enough with most, and I monopolized others. I drank probably the equivalent of a pitcher of mojitos, did not fall off of my 4" heels, laughed very loudly, and told stories about myself (much to my own deep delight). At one time, valentinemichel was laughing so hard that I worried for her, and when I asked, "Am I horrifying or delighting you?" she said that she wasn't sure. That, to me, is a sign that my social technique must be working ;) No one volunteered to make out with me, but in all other respects the evening was a success. (p.s. next time I'm in town, any of you should feel free to offer to make out with me)

At my request, the punny Punster kicked me, but she refused to kick me hard enough for my taste. Now that she is a lethal weapon, I suppose she has a responsibility to not unleash her Fists (or Feet) of Fury on just anyone.

And, contrary to her statements, fleegull absolutely did not do anything to bring shame on her family, nor did she otherwise misbehave. She was drunk, sure--we were all drunk, though. Although I resisted all urges to make her sit on my lap, I definitely had such urges. She's a darling.

We were going to go find a club full of boys kissing each other, but it was raining with biblical force, and there were no cabs to be had…except for the one that Lenore stood out in the street and got for us. For US, not for herself. After seeing us safely into the cab, she walked away into the pelting rain toward the subway station.

Let's all just take a minute and meditate on this:

scribblinlenore is an excellent (and dirty) city ambassador and a wonderful friend


Sunday

Sunday morning, Dana and I met koimistress for brunch. I think we conducted ourselves very well, considering how excited we were to meet her. We talked about a lot of things, fannish and otherwise, and Koi put a writing idea in my head that seems to be putting down roots. No surprise, of course. If Koi were to tell you something she'd like to see you write, you'd probably want to write it, too. Generous, charming, funny lady - I wish we'd been able to spend more time with her. But we had something almost like a schedule, and I had to see someone…

Ah, Madame X. I love 19th century portraiture, especially Sargent. I have a long history with this painting, and I'm reading a book called Strapless by a Deborah Davies (a great researcher, so-so writer) about Amelie Gautreau, the subject of that painting, and Sargent. I did a big post about Sargent and his work HERE if you're interested. We took the subway up and then did the dash across Central Park. Anyway, once we got into the Met, we had to figure out where we were going right away, as we only had an hour and a half before it closed.

Mme Gautreau was basically life-size, and just as wonderful as I'd hoped. I had a moment with her, gazing adoringly and clutching my hands to my breast like some sort of, well, 19th century overemotional ninny. And then we ran to the opposite end of the building to see some Impressionists. And some Thomas Eakins paintings, but (unfortunately) none of the homoerotic ones. And an Anselm Kiefer, who is one of my favorites, though decidedly not a portrait painter.

FWIW, Central Park looked kinda weedy. We were expecting more manicured, I think. When I made comments like this to Mr. Glove, he thought it meant I didn't like things, but that's not it. They just weren't how I'd pictured them. Observations, not criticisms, 'kay?

We ate at Pomodoro Rosso with nerodi (DAMMIT!!!!). Again, amazing food and good company. Afterward, as we all lounged on a…thingy. Barrier doodad. Whatever. Anyway, as we lounged there, discussing pegboy and watching the new graduates of the New York School of Law hug each other and their families on the plaza at Lincoln Center, it occurred to me that Nerodi had probably already discussed the peg boy at least three times that day, at least 20 times over the course of the week, etc., etc., and this has been going on for a year or better…and she's still SO ENTHUSIASTIC!!!!!! That's love, people.

I missed The Sopranos but I didn't miss it, if you know what I mean.

Monday

We got up early and went downtown to meet msdaccxx and her friends J and P at City Hall to make a pilgrimage across the Brooklyn Bridge. I had been having allergy-type issues since getting to New York and they were made exponentially worse by all the exhaust fumes…but it was worth it for the view. On the Brooklyn side, we found a place called Front Street Pizza, which was very likely the place recommended to both Shaggy and Ms. D. In any case, it was fabulous, so let's just say it was the right place. Of interest, the between-bridges triangle of streets is called Dumbo for Down Under Manhattan and Brooklyn Overpasses, or something like that. I wish my neighborhood was called something cool like Dumbo.

We took the subway back and split with Ms. D's friends, who were going shopping. Dana, Ms. D and I were headed for the Guggenheim. The Guggenheim has several remarkable aspects:

• It is the most expensive museum admission.


• The building is falling apart.


• The building does resemble a toilet.


• It's smaller than we expected. Heh. But it's true.

There were catalogs for some recent exhibits I would have liked to see, i.e., a Rosenquist retrospective, for one. However, we were treated to some conceptual pieces, most of which made us laugh out loud. And, to be clear, we were not laughing with the pieces, we were laughing at them. The successful piece was by Damien Hirst, whose gross-out art is a sort of favorite of mine. This was an approximately 6' x 9' canvas that appeared wooly and welcoming until you got up close and realized it was a thick layer of dead houseflies lacquered into place. It also had a distinctive odor, neither pleasant nor unpleasant, which presumably is the scent of thousands of dead houseflies all cozied together.

Any art where you can find enjoyment without reading the plaque is, to me, a successful piece. The houseflies elicited a response--several, in fact--but I was resolutely unmoved by the giant heap of salt, the tiny heaps of crushed aspirin, and the tidy line of heaps of hazelnut pollen. I did not believe that the plain yellow canvases were "reminiscent of Lower East Side architecture." I agreed with the hooting high school class that the heaps of hard candy on the floor did not lead to considerations of abundance and replenishment. Also, although I have not tasted the piece that I (as a member of the audience) was encouraged to take, I believed the high school kids when they told us it was shitty candy.

Despite finding the pieces on display to be ridiculous, we liked the 19th and 20th century pieces in the side gallery (nice Cezannes, a Degas, and a de Chirico, plus a quite traditional Picasso, which is pretty much the only kind of Picasso I like). We also all bought things in the gift shop because, well, gift shop. Dana and Ms. D bought things for other people, but I bought myself a Matthew Barney movie and some pencils.

We met the fabulous pun for dinner at Surya, which turned out to be in the "real" Greenwich Village. It's probably just as well that I did not discover that we had so much more shopping territory nearby than I knew about, because Mr. Glove would not have been pleased if I had come home with a pair of $400 Marc Jacobs spearmint green suede open-toe pumps. Especially because they probably cost closer to $500. And I have no job, and I rarely wear shoes at home.

We talked about gay porn and probably horrified all around us, but the food was delicious, and we saw pictures of Pun's black belt test. She's a fierce creature. I think that there should be a cape and mask incorporated into the standard gi to build on that "super" feeling.

We went to…a bar. I don't remember what it's called. I'm thinking "The Blind Tiger," but I'm unable to make that name match up with the interior of the place. Very huge beer list, wooden booths and tables, graffitied bathroom, and good fun. Sir Pun showed up to meet us, was charming and tolerant, and fell asleep on the bench when the cock talk got to be too much for him ;)

Tuesday

Dana had to leave first thing in the morning. I was mostly asleep, but I'm pretty sure I was polite, at least.

I met Pun again, and we went to Magnolia Bakery for incredible cupcakes, a cutey-pie waiter, and mediocre coffee. We ate our cupcakes in a little chess park, talked about gay porn, and then went and got more food at (I think) gobo, a vegetarian restaurant that was absolutely delicious. On the way there, we found Edna St. Vincent Millay's house and had a reverent moment.

I want to eat lunch with Pun every single day.

The entire train's A/C was out on the way from Penn station to the MacArthur airport in Ronkonkoma. So I guess I did have an authentic LIRR experience after all. As it turned out, I should have taken an earlier train, but since the plane was running behind schedule, both my suitcase and I made it onto the plane, and I got home yesterday evening.

So, generally speaking, I expected things to be much pricier than they were. Other than RENT, the prices for food and various consumer goods were…pretty much standard for any place I've lived or visited. Rent is obviously the big one, and it certainly would be the issue in any of the neighborhoods I'd want to live in, i.e., Greenwich Village. But, despite my lack of paid employment for the last year and a half, I'm of the opinion that I could certainly find something to do that would pay the bills…

Also, despite the hordes of beautiful, toned, well-groomed women available to be ogled in New York, I apparently have something special. It could be the giant, humidity-bloated hair, or perhaps the extreme paleness, or maybe it's just my personality leaking out and getting all over everything, but there were some damn hot guys checking me out over the course of our trip.

Then, an old Greek guy tried to pick me up in the airport. Heh.

I hereby officially offer myself up for Manhattan house/pet/plant sitting to anyone who needs such a helper. That's even after seeing a man squatting down, plastic bag over his hand, catching the turds as they fell from the ass of his greyhound. Yes, I loved New York that much.

I came home and told Mr. Glove all of this over dinner at our favorite neighborhood place. The mojito is my new favorite drink. And it's even semi-fancy, at least compared to my old favorite drink. Fancy potato chips with aioli and baked meringue with strawberries? Excellent food choices.

Remix! May I please direct your attention to the RemixRedux site, and the fine stories to be found there? Please give special notice to the kick-ass remix of my story, Split, which you will find here as Split (Southside Damage Remix). The original is Chloe/Lucas, and Chloe POV. This is Lucas POV and he's just as big a prick as you might hope for. I have more to say on the subject, but I haven't fed back the author yet, and I want to tell her first ;) But, really: go read. It's fucking great, and I plan to link out to it from the original.

Does anyone know if it's "appropriate" to respond to remix feedback before the names are announced? I don't want to blow my cover, nor anyone else's…

Smallville Season Finale!!! I have to go to the grocery store, so we're taping it. I don't want the season to be over yet, so I actually don't mind holding off for a couple of hours. Also, I'm holding off on the Angel finale. I can't believe I only discovered the value of Joss Whedon's shows this year, and now there aren't any left. And, no, I'm pretty sure my interest is not what's killing them.

NYC randomness: Now that I've seen the subway and stations, I seriously need to see The Warriors again. There should be slash for that movie.

Comments

[pun.livejournal.com]

Well I'm always a fan of your cut tags, but those are the best I've ever seen. *g*


I want to eat lunch with Pun every single day.

Me too! That's what I want too! And yes, the bar is called Blind Tiger. And the restaurant is Gobo. And you need to move to the city since you fit right in and everyone you passed on the street thinks you're hot. Maybe you should become a truck driver on the Nashville-NYC route!

[nerodi.livejournal.com]

Dammit!!! I knew you had more fun with pun than yuo did with me!!

[porntestpilot.livejournal.com]

I'll divide this up:
I'm glad you had a nice time, but I'm more happy that mentioned that New Yorkers are not rude, and are quite lovely about directions. Sorry you missed the show you went up to see. So the main topic of conversation was gay porn then?

Stuff about me:
I had to think about the LIRR for a second because I kept calling it the MTA. Gah, the last time I was in a cab there I had my head almost out the window, shiny lights.

So what's inside the Empire State building anyway? I tend to just go past and wave at it on my way somewhere else. Oh, and you should always take an earlier train. Always. I think it's a law of nature.

[scribblinlenore.livejournal.com]

You know, I've never had a scrolly banner made for me before. If I'd known all it would take to get one was to find cabs for people, I would have done it sooner! *g*

I had such a great time getting to meet you and Dana, and am truly sad you had to go home. It just doesn't seem right. You belong here with us!

[fleegull.livejournal.com]

Now that I've seen the subway and stations, I seriously need to see The Warriors again. There should be slash for that movie.


Ha! You might not recognize the subways, our subways got a major overhaul since that movie was made. I don't think it could get made now because the city has lost a lot of the menace it used to have.

I still don't know what to write about Saturday night because I don't know how to do it without painting myself to look like the annoying drunk girl at a frat party trying to get attention. Although, it's always fabulous to be called darling.

I really hope you get to make another trip back, hopefully the cabs will be more on the ball for your next visit.