Monday, December 15, 2014

Thanksgiving, Part Two


Who knew a 1.1-mile walk could feel so long?

Gina and I set out on our way to New York, bags in hand, from my uncle’s house in Little Silver early Monday morning to walk to the train station in town. Though we saw a couple cabs drive by during our walk, including one that came up to us unsolicited and asked if we needed a ride, and there was some clamoring amongst the group (hint: not from me), I steadfastly refused. There are things in this world for which I refuse to pay – a public bathroom in Europe, sprinkles on my ice cream (hey Davey!), etc. – and a cab ride of less than a mile is one of them. It just is. It was a lovely fall day, and I’m not paying when the flat cab rate would’ve been more expensive than the distance we were going. But wow, those bags were heavy.

The Garden

MSG

Ninety minutes later, after our arduous hike through the rough and tumble terrain of Branch Avenue and the ensuing train ride that followed, we found ourselves at Penn Station. There was just one natural destination for me after that: Madison Square Garden. As a lifelong sports fan, the Garden has always held a special allure and appeal to me. I’ve watched countless Rangers games played there on TV and watched innumerable college basketball games played there in November and March – one of my fondest memories in college, in fact, was watching the famous 6-overtime game between Syracuse and UConn with my roommate Anthony on March 12, 2009. Yes, it was a school night, but staying up until the very end at 1:22 AM was worth every yawn in class the next day. I’ve yet to go inside the Garden to watch a game in person, but that ranks close to the top on the personal bucket list.

We got to our hotel, a relatively modern-looking place called the Element Times Square West on West 39th and 8th, dropped off our bags, and went back out immediately to explore the city. We had to go uptown to our first point of call, the Met, and decided to amble across Central Park after we got off the subway near the American Museum of National History. I’m admittedly biased, having lived near Hyde Park in London for four months and taking advantage of its proximity and beauty multiple times a week, but Central Park ain’t too shabby either. It was a gorgeous day for a walk, with gorgeous company to talk with, and our stroll was immensely agreeable.

Central Park in fine glory

After reaching the end of the park, still heading towards the Met, we stumbled upon a site that we’d read about in the New York Times (we’re so fancy) a few weeks earlier but weren’t exactly sure where to find. Don’t you love that about big cities – that feeling of a new, unplanned discovery at every corner? The Cultural Services arm of the French Embassy in New York recently opened a new bookstore, with books in both French and English, a beautiful reading area with wood bookcases and comfortable leather couches on which to consume said reading material, and a ceiling that recalls a scene out of a Harry Potter book or a van Gogh painting. We spent an hour or so browsing, sitting, and reading – in short, filling ourselves with culture before stepping inside one of the world’s most notable art museums.

The Met


Garden at Sainte-Adresse by Claude Monet

The Metropolitan Museum of Art is the largest art museum in the United States and, along with the National Gallery in Washington, D.C. and the Art Institute in Chicago, is certainly one of the country’s leading institutions. It boasts five of the 34 paintings in the world attributed to Jan Vermeer, a leading light of the Dutch Golden Age, a couple dozen pieces by the most famous French Impressionist, Claude Monet, and some of Rembrandt’s finest portraits, but most appealing to me were a couple paintings I had discussed with my Art Appreciation students only a week or so before. It didn’t hit me, when I covered them in class, that I would have the chance to see Rosa Bonheur’s The Horse Fair and Thomas Cole’s The Oxbow in person so soon, and I was overwhelmed with exuberance when Gina and I came across them, again unexpectedly. Gina then sat patiently as I tried to adequately convey my excitement and passion for the subject, and I understand it’s hard to describe that in words in person (and even more so in writing). But I was truly moved by seeing these bastions of Western painting with my own eyes, so much grander in scope and size than I had expected, and it was an experience I won’t soon forget.

We spent a few hours all told at the Met, and then headed back to our hotel to change before our evening activities. Of course we got food on the street right outside the museum, both before we went in (mmm, chili and cheese hot dogs!) and after (three variations of nuts, only $2!). When in New York, amIright?

 

The Theater


Dinner was at an Italian place a few blocks from the Ambassador Theater on Broadway, where we would finish our evening seeing Chicago. This place specialized in red-sauce dishes, of which I’m not the biggest fan – you’re looking at an alfredo or carbonara kind of guy – but it was still pasta and in that sense, you can’t ever go wrong. Both of us dressed up for the occasion, and I felt lucky to have the most stunning 5-foot-5 (in heels!!) girl in the world across the table from me as I proceeded to eat like the animal that I am. Those heels came back to bite us on our walk to the theater, however, as the sidewalks and streets in New York City are hardly pedestrian-friendly, and definitely not to a girl who doesn’t often wear heels. That was one occasion in which taking a cab would’ve been the way to go, which we did on the 12-block trip from our hotel to the restaurant, but we couldn’t find one from there to the show. After promising to massage Gina’s feet for hours afterwards (no tantalizing prospect if you’ve seen her toes, believe me), we made it to the Ambassador.

Proof that I was, in fact, awake for part of it

I love shows. I’ve seen On Golden Pond at the Kennedy Center, where Gina and I will be this Friday night, I’ve seen the Catch Me If You Can musical in Kansas City, and I’ve seen the Sound of Music more times than a 25-year-old guy should probably admit. Suffice it to say I was excited to see Chicago. It started out great. The performers were in great physical shape, had great voices, and I was fully invested in every note. I was right there every second of the way…right up to the point where I fell asleep. I wasn’t even tired. I’ve fallen asleep in several movies, including Shutter Island, Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, and the Book Thief – all movies I actually WANTED to see – and even a soccer game in England. It just happens. I don’t know why. It was so dark in the Ambassador, and for probably half of the show, I was constantly doing that head nod we’ve all done. I’m ashamed, what can I say. But like Eminem, who made some mistakes but is only human, and is man enough to face them today (name that song, go!), I’ll admit to the errors of my ways. From what I did manage to stay alert for, Chicago was terrific.

The last part of this exciting Thanksgiving trilogy will cover our last day in New York. There was basketball. There was 30 Rock. There were $6000 shoes. Until then.