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June 05, 2005
NEW YORK: The 2nd Coming
New York in January is not unlike Ireland in January. Its cold. Not two pairs of socks cold but a mere scarf and gloves cold. (Measuring the cold by the layers of clothing you're wearing is a proven meterological means of testing the weather, I'm told.) Rich, I and $chmackey arrived (miraculously) on 34th street where our grand hotel stood 43 storeys high. The New Yorker Ramada. Now from our journeys starting point across the pond in Dublin airport we had expected something to go wrong. Just a gut feeling the three of us got. Yet nothing hindered us in Ireland. We checked in fine. Got through customs fine. We got the best seats on the plane. We didn't crash. We landed safely in JFK. Our lugguage didn't going missing. The taxi ride into the heart of New York passed without incident. So then we pushed through the doors of our hotel expecting some dive but instead of that we strolled into a fabulous reception area we chandeliers handing from the tall ceiling and various bell boys running about with lugguage. It was perfect. Of course then we suspected that something would be amiss with hotel room itself but boy were we wrong. After pulling back the curtains to our window in our room on the 32nd floor this is what we saw: Straight ahead, three blocks away - The Empire State Building. Beyond that to the south, the magnificent tip of the Chrysler building and far, far below us hundreds of busy people went about their business as yellow taxi cabs drove furiously down 34th street. It was amazing.
The next day took a stroll a view blocks up to 42nd St. and, of course, Times Square. Now Times Square is a lot like Main St. Newbridge only Newbridge has worst traffic. Every shop, business and buidling in the Square must, by law, contribute to the hundreds upon hundreds of neon signs, LCD displays , giant video screens and every other marvel that lights Times Square up at night. After spotting Samuel L. Jackson on the street and then realising he was a wax work, we entered into Madam Tussaud's where Rich struggled to get a hold of a guitar being held by Jimi Hendrix, $chmackey sat at a dinner table with George Clooney and yours truly shook hands with Jerry Springer.
At the beginning of the week we vowed not to eat in the same restaurant twice. Of course, we would go all the way to America to eat in McDonald's the first day. This rule however was broken daily as we grew to love the 24hr "Tick Tock" 50's diner attached to our hotel. I wasn't around in the 50's so I can't promise you that it was exact in every detial but this was beside the point. The Tick Tock Diner served ***the*** best breakfast ever. Ever. EVER. Rich went with an Omlette and a blueberry muffin every single day and not a crumb did he leave on his plate. Me and $chmack, however, could not master the art of estimating how much we could actually manage to eat and hence, every day would be a contest to see who could get it right. I tried every combination possible. Eggs and bacon. Fried potatoes and bacon. Pancakes and strawberries. A bowl of strawberries on there own. A bagel, etc. Yet every day I hadn't the stomach to finish the American size breakfast I kept ordering regardless. The loser of the breakfast eating contest would be adorned by a frown from whatever waiter picked up our plates at the end of the meal. Oh the suspence.
Another major part of our visit was Broadway. We had booked tickets online to see two Broadway shows during or stay. So when the Wednesday came around we made our way to the theatre where we be seeing "WICKED", a musical that gives the Wicked Witch of the West's side of the story. Originally, a wonderful book of the same name by Gregory Maguire, the plot reveals how the Wicked Witch became wicked in the first place. Eager to see our first musical, I walked up to the ticket collection point in the theatre and handed they guy my recipt for the online purchase of our tickets. He had a look at it and slid it back out to me. "Did you notice that date on it?" I looked down at the date which rather oddly looked like yesterdays date. Oh. My. God. We had arrived a whole day late to see a show we paid obscene amounts of money to see. And now I had to go back and tell the lads the slight error. This was the hickcup we were waiting for. Yet, a quick word with the manager of the theatre (I may have mentioned who I was . . .) and he gladly put extra seats out for us. Whew. The show itself was nothing short of breathtaking. A collossel set that could transfer in a an instant, some truly great songs and without a doubt some of the most fantastic performances I have ever seen. I'll never be able to go and see Grease again in a tiny school hall in Newbridge.
Probably the most nerve wracking night for us is when we sort of accidenttally stumbled upon the "HA!" Comedy Club just off Times Square. We were ushered into the club and put in seats too near the stage. And by too near the stage I mean within speaking distance of bad comedians. I'll tell you one think, I've never drank a whiskey so fast as I did that night. All three of us sat huddled round our table praying to God that none of the several comedians who performed that night would speak to us. It didn't help that there was only five other people in the room. But as the first comedian made his way to the stage, it was too late. There was no escape. So what does the first guy say? "I just got fired from my job working in an Irish Bar. Are they any Irish people in tonight?" There was nothing we could do but slowly raise our hands. "F**k you!" he then shouted in our direction in a most animated fashion. And as one later comdian would point out when his jokes all fell flat - "What'd ya expect? You came to a place named the "HA!" Comedy Club!" Couldn't have said it better myself.
Trains, Buses & Automobiles by Liam Geraghty appears every week in the Kildare Nationalist (page 6)
Posted by LiamG at June 5, 2005 10:30 PM