Winging It (Part One)

So you want to hear about the big trip to New York? Well, let's see. Where to begin....

The original plan was to get up at 8 am so we could be on the road by 9. Yeah, right. Neither Roger Mexico nor I are morning people, so I had a feeling that our morning would start a little later than that.

I was awakened by the words, "Go wake her up, Bowie!" followed by a cat being thrown on my stomach. Oh yeah, that beats a beeping alarm.

Before we left, I checked my email to see if Crew had replied to arrange a meeting while I was slumming in his city. No email. I sent him a quick message letting him know that we were running late, and if he could get back to me within the hour, we could still pull off the tentative brunch plans on Sunday.

No such luck.

After stopping at a somewhat dubious yard sale on the way to the expressway (Roger Mexico is in the market for a bike, since there's an upcoming music festival taking place on his street, making driving to work nigh impossible), we hit the road and attempted to find a decent radio station to listen to on the drive. The best we could do was a station playing Hootie and the Blowfish. (Which led to both of us reluctantly admitting that we actually owned copies of Cracked Rear View. Our alternative cred went out the window for a few minutes.) Other than that, the drive wasn't too bad. We hit the Holland Tunnel about an hour after leaving the apartment (minus the yard sale stop).

There was a $6.00 toll to actually enter the Holland Tunnel. They charge you to go to New York, folks.

After a few wrong turns (we ended up having to follow a detour into Brooklyn), we found our way to NoHo, where our hotel was located. Remarkably, we managed to find a metered parking spot about a block away. After feeding the meter all of the quarters in our pockets, we set out to explore. We had vague plans at best, and decided we'd just wing it without a map. We walked past CBGB's, which Roger Mexico would have completely missed if I hadn't said anything. (In his defense, it's not like there's big marquees or anything. It's a pretty unassuming little place; I almost missed it.)

As we were walking along, Roger Mexico reminded me that if I wanted to stop anywhere, I just had to let him know. "I'm fine," I replied. "At this point I don't care if we go anywhere or do anything. I'm just jazzed that we're in New York."

Roger Mexico wanted to go CD shopping, and both of the stores he wanted to check out were in the neighborhood. We stopped at the first one, Bleeker Bob's, and didn't find anything he was looking for, so we continued on. After stopping in Washington Square Park to watch a street performer (who got in trouble because he was amplifying his show), his friend from the Evil Cruise Line joined us. We had to drop off another Evil Cruise Line employee before we could do anything else, so we headed over to the piers.

All I can say is I'm glad I didn't have to do any driving. Intimidating is a word that comes to mind. That word could also be applied to the ship that Evil Cruise Line employee was being dropped off at. I knew cruise ships were huge and all, but my first sighting of one up close was overwhelming. Of course, I was the only one in the car who thought this, since I was the only one who hadn't spent several months working on one. To them, it was no big deal.

On the way back to the Village, Roger Mexico looked up from the copy of The Village Voice that he was looking through. "Hey, Add N to (X) is playing tonight at the Knitting Factory! Do you want to go?" He looked like a five-year-old who'd brought home a stray puppy. I had thought we were going to hit a dance club, but I agreed. At the very least, I could say I saw a show at the Knitting Factory, which was pretty cool in my book.

We found a place to park (with no meter!), and continued with the CD shopping. Roger Mexico did manage to find two albums that he was looking for at Other Music (the red-headed stepchild of Tower Records), and set off to find a cafe where we could all have coffee and chit-chat. Well, the boys chit-chatted. They were busy talking shop (keyboard programming) and reminiscing about last summer on the Evil Cruise Line. I sipped at my coffee (which was disappointingly lukewarm), and spent my time pretending to know what they were talking about. Much nodding and smiling was involved.

Roger Mexico's friend spent a few months in India, and he and a friend are putting together a documentary on the festival they took part in. We stopped by the friend's studio and got a look at a few of the rough cuts before we walked back to the car to check into the hotel.

We had already been warned that the hotel was equipped with a community bathroom for the entire hall to use, but it was considerably cheaper than any other lodging we'd found. We weren't expecting the Hilton. What we weren't expecting was a glorified closet with a bed and walls that didn't reach the ceiling or floor. Or the folks hanging in the lobby that looked like they were answering an extras call for the part of "Derelict #1" on NYPD Blue. Thankfully, the desk clerk let us take a look at the "room" before we checked in. I get the feeling he'd done this before. We respectfully cancelled our reservation and returned to the car to consider our options. We could spend the extra bucks and get a reasonable motel in New Jersey, but that would cut into our fun money; we could drive back to PA and change clothes there for the evening's festivities, but that would be an awful lot of driving for a few hours of night life; or we could change clothes in the car and continue on with our plans. Yeah, that's the ticket. (Actually, I opted for changing clothes in the bathroom of whatever restaurant we selected for dinner. I'm not above changing clothes in the car, but the outfit I'd picked out would have involved me flashing the entire neighborhood. No thanks.)

With this change in plans, we would have enough money to go to the show at the Knitting Factory and the dance club. For the thousandth time that day, "We'll wing it" became our motto.

(Blogger seems to be telling me that I've written too much, so I'll be following this with another post continuing my oh-so-exciting escapades in the Big Apple. Hang tight. There's more to this story.)