New York

A little write-up of my trip to New York.

Every year a group of my high school friends gets together for dinner in Manhattan around holiday time. I try to attend when I can, and this year the stars aligned well: I was overdue to visit with my brother, and the weekend of the high school "Duck Night" dinner (so named because it's held at a Chines restaurant called Peking Duck) was the same weekend as my brother's birthday.

I took the bus up to New York, something I hadn't tried before. It probably took me an hour longer in each direction than driving would have, but I didn't have to worry about having a car in New York and at $30 each way it was cheaper than driving.

I took an early bus so that I could make it to New York in time to grab lunch and see a matinee of a Broadway show before heading out to Brooklyn.  I had recently bought Valerie some really pricey tickets to see John Groban, which made me feel a little less guilty about treating myself to a ticket to Hamilton (expensive, but still $100 less expensive than Josh Groban!). Amazingly, a couple of single seats to this extremely popular show were available days before the performance - I snapped up a seat in the second row of the balcony, which was sure to afford me a good view unless someone with a head like Mr. Met sat down in front of me - which is of course exactly what happened.

The bus leaves you off near Penn Station - a very familiar neighborhood for me, as it is where my dad's/grandfather's office was, and I worked at Penn Plaza when I was in college. My first action was to drop off my suitcase so I didn't have to schlep it to the theater. After 9/11 the Port Authority did away with baggage storage lockers at Penn Station, so private businesses have taken over bag storage. Not that there are bag storage businesses per se; rather other businesses now store bags. I dropped my back at Jason Office Supply on 31st St. How it works is that they give you a numbered tag to place on your bag and have you take a picture of it. When you come to pick up your bag you show them the bag and the photo to prove you're grabbing the right bag. Storage isn't exactly secure - the suitcases are all just sitting in a back corner of the store, not locked up in any way, but the tagging offers some security. Payment is based on the length of time you have the bag stored, which is driven not by an app but by a web site where you start and stop a timer. That part doesn't work perfectly. Two weeks after my trip I got an email from the bag storage company saying my timer was still running and asking if I had retrieved my bag. The good news is that there was no hassle when I told them what time I picked up my bag, and they charged me accordingly.

Having dropped my bag off, I walked uptown and grabbed lunch at Ben's Deli. Now, Ben's is not one of the classic been-there-forever New York delis, but the food is quite good and it's in the theater district and was the only deli I had time to get to before curtain time. I eat red meat very, very rarely, only on special occasions - the opportunity to get genuine New York deli pastrami counts as a special occasion (my other two red meat meals this year were sampling a Vietnamese colleague's homemade pho soup, and a burger after I got back from my Georgian Bay trip). I ordered chicken soup with a kneidel (matzoh ball) and a half sandwich - "half sandwich" being the deli term for "normal sized sandwich". Delicious! Having so feasted I continued on to the theater - again on foot.

A "half sandwich"

Hamilton!

What show did I see? Hamilton! It lived up to its reputation, though I have to say I'm glad I listened to the score in advance. There's no spoken dialog; the show is entirely in song, and most of that song is rap. It can be a little hard to understand. Hearing it in advance helped. Overall, it was great (at least what I could see of it around Mr. Met's head was). The quality of performances in New York productions is just a cut above, as is the whole of the production - choreography, sets, etc. A really good time.

As I started walking back down to retrieve my bag I realized I had somehow lost my scarf so I ducked into Macy's Herald Square to see if I could pick up a replacement. I was looking at a nice wool/cashmere scarf when a salesman came over and said, "Can I pay for that for you?" Then, realizing what he had said he laughed and said, "No, what I meant was can I ring that up for you?" He and I wound up joking about it, then talking about the holiday season and how we're both in the Hannukah camp holidaywise. He wound up giving me 30% off the price of the scarf - which is a good thing, because it was kind of expensive.

I picked up my bag and hopped on the F train to Brooklyn. Time between boarding the train and the first time a homeless person tried to hit me up for money? About 10 seconds. I love New York! Actually, the ride out to Brooklyn went without a hitch. I exited the train at Church Avenue (two stops north of the 18th Avenue Station, where people are seen fleeing in terror in the trailer from the recent Joker movie). This is my brother's neighborhood of Kensignton, which sits at the intersection of a Bangladeshi Muslim neighborhood, an ultra-religious Jewish neighborhood, a gentrified neighborhood with olive oil shops and gourmet coffee shops, and good old middle class Brooklyn - a typically New York crazy admixture of cultures. I wasn't staying with my brother - his apartment is already too full of people, dogs and stuff. Instead, I had booked an AirBnB in the Bangladeshi side of the neighborhood (though the host was Chinese). On looking at the building, an old two story multi-unit row house, I wasn't impressed. I walked in to a hallway filled with dozens of pairs of shoes all wrapped up in bags, and cracker boxes pinned to the walls as mailboxes. Hmmm ... Brooklyn hospitality is unique. Fortunately, the unit itself was quite nice, if a little bare bones. Quite clean, with Ikea-level furnishings. A full one bedroom apartment with kitchenette. Other than a very thin mattress, it was fine.

Creative mailboxes

What's up with the shoes and suitcases?

I visited with Henry and Colleen for a while, but I was pretty spent, as I had been on the go since 6:30 AM. Also, I was recovering from an intense if short-lived flu or bronchitis or something. I crashed and slept soundly.

When I got up Thursday I started my day by grabbing coffee and a bagel from a Bangladeshi corner bodega (only in New York would I refer to a convenience store run by Bangladeshis by the Spanish term "bodega", and only in New York would a South Asian convenience store sell bagels). I went for a run. I went down Ocean Parkway (America's first bike path) then across into my old neighborhood, past my childhood home, then back. I was pretty stiff from a day spent sitting cramped into the bus and a small theater seat, and my lingering bronchitis was aggravated by breathing out in the cold - but somehow I slogged my way through a jog. Then I went over to Henry and Colleen's. We didn't do much of anything. Just visited. Walked over and got lunch at Batata, a rather delicious Israeli/Middle Eastern restaurant, then lingered over coffee at Windsor Coffee. Yeah, chains have infiltrated Brooklyn to some extent and I'm sure there's a Starbucks somewhere (there's a Dunkin' Donuts in the heart of Bangladeshi Kensington!), but fortunately it's still mostly a world of local shops. Thursday evening I met my friend Charles - my oldest friend and my only friend left in Brooklyn - for coffee and dessert at a diner. That required a very expensive Uber (Ubers are pricey in New York due to some living wage law) but was money well spent.

My childhood home

Friday was Henry's birthday. We had plans to go out for brunch. Unfortunately, the place we had hoped to go (Hamilton's on Ft. Hamilton Parkway - named after, yes Alexander Hamilton) didn't serve brunch on weekdays so we wound up at a slightly less grand restaurant - but the food was still delicious.

In the afternoon I bid farewell to my family and took the subway back into Manhattan, getting off the train along the way to grab a picture at Astor Place - a station that figures in a song I wrote back in the 80's. I had booked a hotel in the city for Friday night. My room wasn't ready yet when I got there but I dropped my bags and went for a walk through the heart of New York Christmas - the tree at Rockefeller Center and the store windows on Fifth Avenue. It's very nostalgic for me. My grandparents lived in this neighborhood (up the street from Trump Tower!) and we always did this walk at Christmastime, ending up at FAO Schwartz toy store, which was an amazing place to visit as a kid). Sigh. Eventually I made it to my hotel and after waiting some more - and eventually throwing a fit at the front desk - I got into my room.

Rockefeller Center tree

Fifth Avenue

Bergdoff's store window (can you find the accordion?)

So nice to be somewhere where Gen. Sherman is considered a hero!

Duck Night dinner was wonderful as always. There's a core group that's always there, but there are also always surprises. There were a couple of people there I hadn't seen in person since high school. It was super cool to reconnect. The dinner always goes by quickly. We go out for drinks afterward. That goes quickly too. I stumbled back to my room around midnight.

Duck Night crew

Saturday morning I walked over to Ess-a-Bagel (Yiddish for "Eat a Bagel") on 3rd Avenue, where for breakfast I got a truly quality bagel and veggie cream cheese and a true New York "soup Nazi" ordering experience. Then I hopped the E train downtown and caught the bus home. Unlike on the ride up, the bus was fairly empty which made the ride a little more comfortable - but I still wound up a little queasy by the time I reached Arlington. Maybe long distance bus travel isn't for me.

Bagel!

Anyway, a great trip - family, old friends, bagels and pastrami ... but no pizza. Gotta leave something for next time.

Eleven Hours of Music

Just a quick report on a marathon day of music on Saturday. I had two gigs back-to-back - I must be a professional musician :)

The first gig was a holiday party. The basic outlines are pretty normal - nice ballroom at the Sheraton Pentagon City. Great views out towards DC and Virginia. Extensive buffet and open bar. Then there was the host. Rob is an ostensibly extremely wealthy dude who spends most of his time in the Virgin Islands but still has connections back here. He cuts quite a figure at these parties - tuxedo, spats, a hairstyle that could be described as the Donald Trump look with a ponytail. Quite a dude. And he has interesting musical requests: he always wants a sing-along of corny traditional songs (Oh Susanna, Yankee Doodle, and such) as well as a medley of the Armed Services songs. Last year we played the service songs; this year they went with a recorded version. Plus, Rob has a hearing disorder which makes him hypersensitive to loud noise. So he hires live entertainment then spends the whole time shushing the musicians.

Anyway, despite all this, it was a fun gig. A lot of hours, though: we played from 4 to 8:30. I was giving Vicky, the singer of Magnolia Blue, a ride out to the next gig. She met me at Rob's party - sauntered in aroudn 8 PM, ordered a whiskey like she belonged there and got some dessert. With only the tiniest bit of prompting she joined us onstage. The last couple of songs were really nice duets between Vicky and Zac. Then she and I had to skeddadle - we were due out in Ashburn for our next gig, the holiday party at Hardcore Choppers custom motorcycle and hot rod shop. Neil had said the band would be sound checking at 9, but not to worry if we were late - they'd have everything set up for me to plug right into when I got there. I didn't even need an amp, since there'd be a monitor for me.

One thing you have to account for when you get gig instructions from Neil is that generally nothing is accurate. Vicky and I arrived around 9:30. As expected, an Elvis impersonator was performing to fill the band changeover time, but there had been no sound check - in fact, the previous band was still clearing the stage and Magnolia Blue was just getting started setting up. There was no monitor for me. There was nothing set up for me to plug into. The sound man grumbled at having to provide me with a direct  box (a gadget that allows me to connect my keyboard into the PA system), Personally, I consider providing the direct box to be the sound man's responsibility, but every once in a while you run into a sound man who thinks it should be my responsibility. One thing turned out to be accurate - Neil had made good on his promise to bring a keyboard stand (I had one in the car, just in case), but I had to dig it out of a jumble of gear. Oh, and Neil was WASTED. I mean, intoxicated to the point where he'd just stand there and clearly not have the conscious thought power to know what he was doing - or that he should be doing anything at all.

Elvis, wearing an exact replica of the 1974 Dragon jumpsuit

Fortunately, this wasn't anyone's first rodeo and we all know how to pull ourselves together in a chaos situation. I grabbed the amp I had in the car (I always bring one, even when they say I don't need one), got my keyboard set up and successfully negotiated the PA connection with the sound guy. Likewise, everyone else got set up and ready to go. We hit the stage sounding great despite having a semi-comatose Neil at the helm. As soon as we started playing, the go go dancers got up to dance along. A couple of years ago when did this party, the shop was in a different location and the stage setup was a little different, with the dancers on platforms out in the middle of the floor. This time the platforms were right in front of the stage and so I had various women in tight dresses shaking their thang right in my face all night. The girl in the tight black dress and heels would play strictly to the crowd, but her alternate, the petite girl in the black dress and boots, would smile sweetly at the band from time to time - like she was enjoying the experience and was happy to be sharing this good time with us. Awww. Such a wholesome go go dancer.

Monster chopper

My view

Onstage

I should point out that this party was in a motor vehicle shop. So, after ogling the cars outside (a late 60's Buick Riviera, a 1980's slant nose Porsche 911, a Datson 280z, etc.)  you walk in past a jumble of partially disassembled motorcycles into a big, open shop space. The stage was a real stage, but the horns were playing on a platform that was actually some sort of vehicle lift, behind which was a pile of car parts. Most of the main bay had been cleared out for the party (probably the reason so many cars were outside), but a second bay off to the side held an array of works in progress - both choppers and cars, and had a big screen showing UFC Fight Night, for those not into live music and Elvis.

Cars undergoing restoration

Choppers

This was the last gig (at least for now) for Magnolia Blue and we did it with a lot a subs, since a number of the band members had already quit. On drums we had Neil's housemate John (who's not a stranger to our material - he had often played with us at rehearsals once our drummer started getting unreliable). On guitar we had my friend and former (for a little while) Mag Blue guitarist Shawn. Ralph, who played with us for a little while last year, was back on trumpet. And of course as a front man we had zombie Neil.

The amazing thing is that it went really well. Sure, there were times when Neil was supposed to sing but didn't, leaving us to wonder whether to vamp or continue the song. There were times when Neil sang the wrong things, leaving us to wonder whether to follow the song structure or follow what he was singing. Our excellent singer friend Sunny showed up. She came up to sing with us and actually took over for Neil a few times when his processor went into sleep mode. And yet it all held together! Amazing. The crowd, fired up on jello shots, Fireball, cheap beer and trays of Italian food, was up and dancing. A good time was had by all!

At about 1:30AM things wound down. The bathroom had been trashed, and spilled beer was everywhere. I had had a cup of regular coffee before leaving the first party, but the combination of the hours and a couple of beers (one at each party) was starting to take its toll. I loaded my gear out and Vicky and I drove back to Arlington where I dropped her at the Metro stop, despite it being way beyond Metro hours (I simply wasn't a nice enough guy to drive the extra 15 minutes each way to take here all the way home - she caught an Uber the rest of the way). I got home and too wired to sleep, but eventually exhaustion and a little rye whiskey did the trick and I slept like the dead.