I get motion sick easily.
Even more so on a plane.
However when I take Dramamine I tend to smash into glass walls at hotels and leave face smudges.
Now I’ve never been on one of those express planes before, BEFORE TUESDAY THAT IS.
Wow. It’s like being loaded into a paper towel tube with wings and hurtled across the country by a five year old. Thankfully I slept most of the time but there were still a few moments where my stomach came up to have vomit cocktails with my uvula.
My driver picked me up in a Lincoln Towncar that smelled slightly of Padang Curry and had six back issues of Women’s Golf Digest in the seat pocket And OH! His accent! It was thick and luscious like a good mashed potato.
“Heh, y’ see dat riveh o’er deh? We ju’ wen’ undeh it, in deh Holland Tunne’, dat ove’ deh is Joizee an’ dis oveh hee’z New Yohk.”
He dropped me off at the W Hotel in Times Square which I’ve already proclaimed to have more hipness in it’s elevator than I’ve ever had in my entire life. They put me up on the 49th floor and you’d better believe the first thing I did was stand in the windowsill and smash my forehead against the window looking down into Times Square, sorry about the smudge, Style. (Oh, did you not know that the W doesn’t call their housekeeping “housekeeping?” They call it “styling.”
If you need me I’ll be styling my house this week.
Towels may end up in the hamper for extra feng shui effect.
Given that I hadn’t eaten all day from excitement I set out to find something “New York.” (P.S. I’m writing this during a delay at the Newark airport. Dear Newark Airport, you need new seats. Anytime someone farts in these things it trembles the entire row. xo-Casey)
I found this sandwich.
Nothing like a fancy sandwich with arugula, bacon and roast turkey on ciabatta made by someone who doesn’t speak a lick of English.
Crap, I love New York.
After horking down the sandwich in a matter of moments I set off to meet the legendary Metalia. If you were to ever ask me my favorite blog to read I will always answer her in the top 3. If not #1.
We stalked outside the tent at Fashion Week hoping for a celebrity sighting but all we saw was this guy in girl clothes with a mohawk and a teeny tiny sequined top hat. Metalia’s not really talking to anyone, we’re just doing the fake set up in order to get a picture of the really ridiculous person behind them without looking too obvious.
You know you’ve done it too.
We then headed over to Crumbs to obtain cupcakes bigger than an infants head. I chose Devil Dog. I horked it down just like I had horked my sandwich down. Stomach? Full.
photo by Metalia
We then headed out for the M&M’s store. the moosh is getting M&M panties as a souvenir. ‘Nuff said.
Metalia was gracious and answered my questions about Jews, told me funny stories about pasties and didn’t even mind when I interrupted her and pointed to two men in full traditional Jewish regalia and said “EXPLAIN THEM TO ME.”
By the time I got back to my room Cody had arrived. First thing he asked me was “Want to go to Chicago?” I know I made the “What the? But we’re in New York” face when I realized he meant the musical.
My husband asked me if I wanted to go with him to a Broadway musical that involved singing and dancing. Lots of it.
It was everything I ever dreamed of. Amazing. Bah. Speechless.
By the time we got back to the room it was pretty late, we were also challenged with the whole frosted see through glass walls in the bathroom thing.
We peed in the dark for four days while the other person plugged their ears and hummed. (We never have, nor never will potty in front of each other. Ever. Eww.)
We were asleep before we had time to make butt prints in the bed.
To be continued…