Mom and I lounged in the room for a short time, because even though we'd arrived early in the afternoon New York traffic took up most of our travel time. Whenever I travel I have a tendency to want to stay within the place that I'm sleeping at. Perhaps this is because most of our family trips involved being in a house that was within walking distance to the beach, or at a hotel where there was plenty to entertain. But this trip was different, this was a place I wanted to master, to become a part of, or at least test the waters. And Mom, I had a feeling she also wanted to explore.
This is a bit of a side story, but on this trip I remembered an interview I did with my Mom when I was in seventh grade. She told me that when she was younger she wanted to be a plane hostess, because she wanted to see the world. I had always thought of this moment as I grew to become a feminist, as I related it to the sexism that the women faced in the 60s. But, on this trip I kept thinking about how she wanted to see the world, and explore new places. Now, don't get me wrong, my Mom has lived a wonderful life even if she hasn't traveled as much as she wanted. So, during this trip I wanted to give her as many experiences as possible. (Though, I am slightly sorry we saw CATS twice, which prevented us from having a chance to even peak at Central Park. But CATS, Mom!)
We stayed at a hotel right next to Time Square, which is honestly a horrible place, especially during the holiday season. I felt really good walking there, but I didn't know what to expect. Was this going to be like the opening of the Mary Tyler Moore show where I have room to spin and throw my hat in the air? Was there going to be a performance on the red bleachers? What was the big deal with all the ads? What even is really there that everyone flocks to? From what I can tell, it's just a bucket list item and people go there to be disappointed that it's the literal worst.
I hated pushing through the crowds, worrying about losing Mom, and trying to avoid hitting street vendor tables. There were just groups of other tourists, all holding hands, trying to stay together in this sea of people. And the ads were there, big and bight as all get out, which was... insignificant. Sure the HD screens are cool and draw your attention and any one that featured a Broadway show made my heart soar, but other than that I wasn't sure what to do. Mom and I took a couple of selfies and pictures with the ads and kept an eye out for places to eat. There were familiar restaurants like Olive Garden and TGIF, but I wanted something unfamiliar so I could live up the New York dream. We had spotted a restaurant called "Playwrights" and through it looked swell, and was fitting for the location and reason of travel. So, we turned around and headed towards it.
Mom is a cautious woman, and that makes her a wise woman. But, I have learned to take crosswalk signals as a suggestion here in Louisville. If the street is clear enough, I can make it. New York is different, people do not respect the crosswalk and often stop there car in the middle of it, making it harder for tightly packed crowds to filter through. Mom worried about the cars we maneuvered around, but I told her I wasn't afraid: If they hit me while the walk sign is lit up, they pay my college tuition. (This isn't a for-sure thing, but I have calculated my student debt and I will take any help I can get.)
The place was packed, but we were lucky enough to be seated right away. We sat next to a window in a corner, where a warm vent blew down on us. The Playwright is basically just the upstairs level of a Celtic restaurants, but Mom is very Irish and we were both happy. We ordered wine and pasta, talking about how Dad would be proud of our Irish choice. I told her I'd liked the choice as it honored the woman who switched shifts with me to make this trip possible, as she is a Shakespeare loving actor and writer. And I ordered a mushroom dish, in honor of my sister Emily who loves mushrooms and supported my spontaneous trip idea from the get-go. It was a very honorable meal.
The dinner, though simple, was expensive in our Louisville-LaGrange opinion, but we enjoyed it a lot. Towards the end of the dinner, when I had hoped we'd return to the hotel room, I mentioned the ice skating rink. Mom wanted to go ice skate, so we paid the bill and left with stomachs full, and spirits full of excitement for this iconic New York area.
Fun fact: GPS doesn't work too well in New York, but luckily the streets are numbered. We found where the tree was located and began our trek, following another tourist crowd. There were so many kids, in strollers and on the hips of mothers and fathers, trying to see the lights. Mom and I were surprised at this, and admitted we'd never do that, especially with the strollers. The light show was beautiful, and I wish I'd had a better view, but it was still enjoyable from a distance and with the occasional head bobbing in front of it. We still battled crowds, as people stopped to watch the lights, or began to walk again, hurrying forward. But, once we got to the Rockefeller tree and attempted to take pictures with it, I finally felt like I was part of this community.
See, my fear is not fitting in. This doesn't mean I go to impossible things to be something I'm not just to fit in, it just means that I'm always afraid I will be so different that everyone will think I'm a weird loser. Which is likely, but that's besides the point. I think I realized I fit in with this crowd when I saw a man give a deep and dramatic sigh when his wife asked for them to re-take the family picture. Everyone made that sigh, because pictures are impossible in this location. Someone always walks in front of cameras, or doesn't give enough space for a selfie, or some other small drama. This deep, annoyed sigh was how I felt being an introvert in a crowded city, anxious about traveling and anxious about becoming constipated because I was anxious about traveling. I didn't like the crowd, I thought Time Square was truly pointless and I felt gullible for even going there once in the middle of the holiday season. I was nervous about losing my Mom in the crowd, and so worried I wouldn't like the city. Of course, I did not explore a good part of the city, as I was a pure tourist in this situation, and I barely had time to do any true exploring. But, I laughed whenever I saw someone express these feelings, because I got them, and they got me.
Mom and I snagged a couple of terrible selfies with the tree, and peered down at the ice skating rink. I found it funny that all the movie portray this as a casual date idea, but it's not. I would never take a date to this place, as it's jammed and the line for the ice skating rink was thick and went up the stairs leading to the rink, and morphed into the gigantic crowd. We decided that skating wasn't plausible, but watched for a few minutes, ignoring the ever mobile crowd behind us.
The driver had told us about 5th avenue, where all the high end shopping was done, so we decided to stroll along it. All the stores looked crisp, sparkling with newness and high fashion. I thought it must be terrible to work there, it'd honestly be terrible to work anywhere ordinary in New York. New York is this place where one goes to be extraordinary: A star, a millionaire living in a penthouse, a fashion designer, anything but a concierge or a retail worker. (Yes, that is how I feel about the snooty concierge. He's gonna be all high and mighty when he lives in New York and does customer service for rich people and tourists!)
Mom spotted the Cathedral she wanted to attend Mass at, and we decided to peak inside. Tourists filtered through, pausing to talk to security guards as they warmed up by heaters. It was like a museum, but in this museum the priest and the congregation were all part of the display. People would just look at the space, and then walk out, showing no reverence, just impressed by the architecture. I snapped a photo of the Mass schedule, as I knew Mom wanted to go in the morning, and I was hoping it use this as an example of ritual for a homework assignment.
It was getting late, so we returned to our hotel, using the nifty numbered streets to find our way back. Mom hoped in the shower, and I tried to read some of a book I'd bought. I like to read books on trips too, that way when I come home I can write a note about the trip before I shelve the book. I still haven't finished the book, and I've considered returning it, but if I return it I can't write a note in it, and that's all I really want. She came out feeling refreshed, so I decided to get in as well.
The warm water felt good. I didn't feel dirty, but I felt very clean letting the hot water run over me. Like I'd washed away a thousand exhausting interactions with other people, even if it was just the shared experience of being in a massive New York City tourist crowd. Mom and I probably could've put our names into a couple of Broadway lotteries that night, but instead we went to bed around 8:30. I listened to Mom's breathing change, as I stared out the window, through the yellow blind, trying to hear the hectic New York Streets. I feared that one day I'd return, and live in a crap apartment, and lay like this every night, worried about being there and trying to accomplish my dreams. I texted my boyfriend, Duffy, all of my worries, and all the things I was experiencing in New York.
See, I am still worried about moving to New York. Even though I'm somewhat dying to go back and try it all again, it still scares the shit out of me. Especially if I think of going there alone. But, when I think of going with Duffy, I don't feel scared at all. He knows New York better than I do, and he's confident on the streets, (this could also be because he's a six foot, white, male) which means he would not only make sure I was okay, but motivate me to feel just as confident.
I fell asleep quickly, listening to our neighbors laugh and talk in the neighboring room. I woke up to the sound of one of them vomiting, which was nice. I had anticipated Mom and I going to brunch this morning, but she admitted she'd like to go to the noon Mass, so we could go straight there from the theatre. We laid in bed, taking in the restful time, and trying to figure out the New York weather. When our stomachs started to growl I kicked the idea of brunch to the curb and suggested the small cafe we'd seen on 7th street.
We dressed and walked around the block to the cafe/convenient store. It was full of immigrant workers, all with their own different accent, which made me feel as if we had truly arrived to New York. The buffet offered didn't look high-quality, but I was excited at the opportunity to load up a plate of eggs and tater tots. I paid for breakfast, as I can't afford much, but hated that Mom was so graciously paying for everything. She did, however, tip the woman that checked us out. With our cheap coffee and highly processed food, we sat down by the window so we could people watch. Mostly, we talked fashion, noting people's boots, and Duffy's opinions on New York fashion. But, I brought up immigration and the expense of living in New York. This was where I admitted I wanted to move here for a job or internship, as this was where the big publishers made their headquarters. In fact, my dream publisher, was located just a few blocks away from our hotel. I wouldn't live in this area, as we also discussed most people probably don't because it's so tourist heavy and pricey.
After breakfast, we hung out in the hotel room some more, waiting until practically the last minute to start getting ready for the show. Of course we had the pit stop of Church between then, but I was excited to begin this process.
I hated the tights I'd bought at target. They were shiny and not the right shade for me. But, they were all I had, and the dress I'd packed opens around the legs, so I had little choice. The tights gave minimal (minimal) protection against the wind and cold, but it still counted for something. We were a little late to Church, but we made it nonetheless. The Cathedral had high security, including bag checks and security guards pacing the aisles and standing near the priest during communion. It was hard to see, and it was hard to hear at times. I truly remember this Mass as kind of a big blur, with just the distant sound of someone speaking through a microphone. I remember thinking about how architects and historical preservationists probably gasped with emergency lights, TVs, and speakers were screwed into the pillars in the Cathedral.
When I was a kid, I used to sing really loud in Church. I thought I was an amazing singer, and sometimes I'd imagine a talent agent was sitting in front of me, and if they caught the sound of my angelic voice they'd turn around during the peace offering and offer me a contract or something. That never happened, but New York was the place for that! I sang as best I could, though it's often hard to keep up with the different styles of different Churches. No one offered me a contract, but the peace offerings were very friendly.
Everythign about the Mass was hectic. It was busier than the Louisville airport there! But, we survived it. Onec it was over, Mom signed an electronic guest book, and we walked out the Church.
I got the address for the Neil Simon theatre, and we began our journey.
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