It Seemed Like A New York Minute - Writers Forum

Rachel381 · 03-14-2008, 02:07 AM

It Seemed Like A New York Minute

Part One

My love affair with New York City began approximately four years ago, when I first set foot in that wondrous city. Even though it was my first visit, I knew I belonged there. It didn't take long before I packed my bags and permanently headed towards the Big Apple.

After a year (a month, and 5 days) of living in the city, I hesitantly decided to move home to California to continue my education. This decision is not one I wanted to make, but it was the most practical at the time. When I first returned to Orange County, I felt withdrawn, saddened and nostalgic. I felt like something was missing in my new environment. The feeling is not something that can be explained, but more or less a something of great importance.

New York City means a lot to me for many different reasons. It was the greatest adventure I underwent, until this point in my life. It gave me closure to a situation I never thought I would get over. It opened my eyes to the diversity I was never exposed to in Orange County. It forced me to adapt to a new environment and people (lord knows New Yorkers are though cookies). It gave me a stronger personality and allowed me to become better equipped for life.

Not only does the Big Apple signify the necessary changes in my life, but it also just makes me happy. I feel complete whenever I am there. I always imagine myself as one of those girls in romantic comedies like "Serendipity" or "When Harry Met Sally". I feel like I'm in a movie just walking down the street. There is always so much going on, and everybody has a story; and an interesting one at that. The history behind the city fascinates me more than anything and I always feel a connection with everything I do.

This entire year I've been wanting to make a trip back to New York City. But it just never happened. Whether it was my school or work schedule, something always stood in the way.But then, December 1, 2005 approached. I was sitting downstairs typing away on my laptop. My mother came into the room and asked, "How would you like to spend the holidays in New York?" I almost fell off my chair. "It can be your birthday and Christmas present," she said. I don't typically like to hear that sentence, but in this case I was ecstatic. "Yes!" I shouted excitedly. At that very moment I began looking for flights and hotel arrangements. But I wasn't about to play the part of the tourist by getting a hotel room on 34th Street or the Times Square area. I am "way too cool" since I've already lived in the city and needed to get away from the hundreds of tourists that would be visiting New York. I instantly looked into the Greenwich Village/Chelsea area for quaint hotels. I found a bargain at Hotel 17. It was only $70 a night, contained two full sized-beds, a bathroom, and it was located on 17th Street, in between 2nd and 3rd Avenue. What a deal! I ran it by my mother who gave me her credit card information and I booked the room for 3 nights. My good friend Eva told me we could stay with her on our last night, which was perfect since she lives minutes away from JKF airport. Jet Blue was having a few holiday specials, so we lucked out with very cheap airfare. This four day vacation was going to be the best ever.

The whole month of December couldn't have taken longer to pass by. Christmas day arrived and I had reached the maximum capacity of jolliness. Something about the Christmas season takes over me. I know many think it's the season for the evils of consumerism to take place, but I happen to like the warmth it brings. The combinations of bringing family together, cool weather and holiday cheer, make up for all the distortion of a Capitalistic Government.

That Christmas morning, I was at my Aunt Tammy's house enjoying the festivities and good food. When all of the sudden, I heard my cell phone ring. It was my mother, who told me our flight was at 9:20pm that evening. She told me to be home by 7:00pm to leave for the airport. "What the F*@!? Were leaving tonight!?" I asked her. "Yesssss!" she wailed, wildly. "Holy shit! I haven’t even packed and I still have to go to Auntie Isabel's house (my dad’s side) for dinner!" I told her. "Well, you booked the flight, you should have known!" she yelled. This was true. Indeed, I should have known. But somehow I thought we were leaving the next day, on my birthday. This new revelation sent me scurrying home to do some last minute packing. I said goodbye to my family, grabbed my sister and flew out the door.

I did some pro-style packing and managed to get everything I needed in one hour. This left me another hour to get ready for my father's side of the family, dinner. My sister and I arrived at my Aunt Isabel's home where we spent time with our dad and opened gifts. He got me a digital camera (something I've needed for a very long time) and a bunch of other useful presents. Sadly, we didn’t have time to stay for dinner so we rushed back home to meet up with my mother. All three of us gathered our luggage and headed towards Long Beach Airport. Check in took about 5 minutes and we ate a special Christmas dinner at the upstairs cafe. I stopped by the local vendor and bought some Tylenol PM, since we were about to take a red eye flight.

A half hour later we were on the plane where I sat in between my mother and sister. The Tylenol PM was kicking in and I was dozing off. But, I have to say that being stuck in the middle seat, with nothing to rest your head on, kind of blows when you're trying to nap. I slept for about 2 hours on and off, to say the most. My sister barely slept as well and we were both fading away.

Time passed and it was 6:00am (east coast time). Our plane was landing at JFK airport, in New York. Although I was exhausted from getting a minimal amount of sleep, I was felt joyful inside. A surge of energy appeared from nowhere and I became alive. Baggage claim took longer than expected and I was becoming anxious to get into the city. We got our bags and headed outside towards the taxi line. When I stepped outside, I was in utter amazement. It wasn't very cold and there wasn't an ounce of snow on the ground. It had to of been about 45 degrees outside, which is unheard of at 6:00am in the winter season.

The taxi director had a very thick Brooklyn accent, and it brought me back to the place I wanted to be. He flirted with my mom a little and showed us to our taxi cab. Our Cabbie was a middle-aged black man who didn't say as much as a word. He mostly used hand gestures to show us where to put our luggage. We got into the cab where he raised his eyebrow, as to say, "Where do you want to go?" I quickly jumped in before my mom made us look like complete out-of-towners and said, "17th in between 2nd and 3rd, please." In the car, he was listening to my favorite New York radio station, Z100. It was gloomy and slightly rainy outside and all three of us observed the scenery. Things were exactly the way I remembered them to be. It seemed that all the graffiti was in the right spots and the billboards remained the same. I was reminiscing to my mother about everything, when all of the sudden the sound of Kelly Clarkson’s song, "Because Of You" flooded the car. This seriously had to be the funniest thing that could have happened in that cab. The mute Cabbie completely dug that song! He turned it all the way up as soon as it began. We all sang along to it, and silently laughed to ourselves about what was happening. He was warming up to us and after that bonding experience I asked, "Paul, how was your Christmas?" He responded in his very New York accent, "Ah, ay had ta wok." Poor Paul. I really felt for the guy. We approached the hotel and Paul said, "What? You guys aren't from New York?" "We weren't obvious?" I thought. That's because my mom didn't do a whole lot of talking. Her blondness usually kills it. Paul helped us with our bags and left us in front of the hotel.

I looked above at the maroon colored awning that read, "Hotel 17." There were beautiful marble pillars with Christmas lights surrounding them. The hotel was located in a small Chelsea neighborhood with a friendliness to it. We were all pleased by looks of it outside. We walked up the stairs and pressed the button that would allow us entry. We walked into the lobby and it was just as quaint on the inside as it was on the outside. It had an old, 1920's feel to it. There was deep yellow and maroon colored wallpaper, topped off with a thick, mahogany molding. It was small inside with one chair in the lobby area. The front desk looked like one that belonged in an old, scary movie. It definitely looked like it could have been haunted. There were stairs to the right with an elevator beside it. A variety of paintings were hung that blended in too well with the wallpaper. It was around 8:00am and we walked up towards the front desk. The front desk clerk was polite with somewhat of a nonchalant attitude. It sounds contradictory, but that’s exactly how it was. We asked what time check in was and he told us 12:00pm. "Are you kidding?!" I thought to myself. I wanted to cry. I was so exhausted and didn't know what we were going to do for the next 4 hours. We decided to get some breakfast since we were all starved. We found a cute restaurant on the corner called, Gramercy Diner. We adopted this diner as our breakfast spot for the remainder of our stay.

After breakfast, we walked back towards our hotel. At this time it was 9:00am and we were going to attempt to renegotiate with the clerk. He told us our room was currently being occupied and we would still have to wait until 12:00pm. Not liking the answer given to us, we camped out in the lobby. Since there was one chair, two of us had to sit on the floor, making us look like three homeless women. Everyone that walked by just starred at us like we were bums. C'mon people! Do bums really wear Bebe sweats and a full face of makeup? I don't think so. I was in the middle of having a battle with my eyes to stay open, and I needed some distraction as to not focus on how tired I was. So, I began to crack jokes about my mom with my sister, to keep us all functioning. When all fails, we always tease my mom. It's not my fault because she makes it so easy. The hotel clerk found us to be very entertaining and offered us a temporary room to sleep in, until our room was ready. I wanted to hug him.

All three of us headed up towards the second floor to find our temporary room. The hallway on the second floor had a distinct smell. It was neither good nor bad, but definitely something out of the ordinary. It was like an old cleaning detergent from the 20th Century, or something. We found the room and opened the door. The inside looked like a Flapper's room from the Roaring Twenties. It contained one full-sized bed in the center, with an old, floral bedspread. It had an ancient looking vanity along the wall, and a sink in the corner. "Where's the bathroom?" my mother thought aloud. "Our room will have one. That’s all that matters," she said. My sister and I nodded our heads in agreement. We were too tired to worry about bathrooms, anyway. All three of us piled onto the bed, where we were packed like sardines. But we didn't care. We slept until the clock struck 12:00pm.

We went downstairs and were more than ready to check into our rightful room. The front desk clerk gave us our room key and we headed back up the stairs towards the second floor, again. We found room 218 and opened the heavy mahogany door. We walked in to find two beds, a television set, a vanity, a small closet space and a sink. "But where was the bathroom?" we all wondered. And then, I started laughing out loud. Of course there wasn't a bathroom. Why would there possibly be a bathroom? We were all cracking up about the ridiculousness of the situation. It became an ongoing joke for our entire stay. We asked the clerk about the bathroom situation, where he educated us about the concept of "European styled, shared bathrooms." He explained that there were four on each floor. At first I was a little taken back by this concept, but soon got over it. It really wasn't that bad. And luckily one of the bathrooms was located directly across from our room. There was only a four foot gap between the two doors. Thank god. We took some time to unpack and slept for a few more hours.

I went to take a shower after my nap and was thrilled to see the bathroom was beautiful and spotless. I mean seriously, the bathroom was tiled with marble and decorated lovely. On the way back to my room, I noticed the door next to ours, was opened. The sound of 1940's jazz music was traveling down the hall and I moved in closer to get a better glimpse of the room. This wasn't just any old room, though. It definitely had a personal touch. It was decorated with deep red, velvet drapes, dark colored walls, and a small crystal chandelier. There was a mystery to this hotel room and the person who clearly lived inside of it.

I went back into our room where my mom and sister were getting ready for the evening. After all, it was my birthday and my mom wanted to treat me to a birthday dinner at the world famous, Tavern On The Green. I went back and forth, trying to decide which outfit I was going to wear. At first I decided to be sophisticated, and wore a knee length gray skirt, with a black turtle neck and white belt. But then I felt like being a little more funky. It was my birthday and I could be funkdafied if I wanted to. I wore a black halter, laced with pearl embroidery around the neck and down the center of the tank. I paired this with dark blue denim, black boots worn over the pants, and my white belt. My mom forced my sister into wearing a gypsy-esque looking skirt, with a white turtle neck and matching belt. It really looked a lot better than it sounds. My mom wore a beautiful laced top, with cream colored slacks and a full, white coat. She looked the part of a perfect Park Avenue princess.

We headed out the door towards the nearest subway station. It had been awhile since I had used the MTA system and I was a little rusty on train transfers and so forth. But I managed to get us Uptown in one piece. Tavern On The Green is located at the beginning of Central Park, hence the name. We got there a little early and killed time by taking pictures with my sisters razor phone. We were outside enjoying the cool air and looking at the beautiful buildings. There were two doormen across the street, crypt walking to non-existing music, in the window. My sister and I watched them entertain themselves for a good 10 minutes, until a resident came by and they had to act professional. We also got a glimpse of a hefty Santa Clause riding his bike down the street. Only in New York.

It was around 8:00pm and we walked towards the restaurant. We checked in our coats at the front and instantly felt the warm sensation of the heater. It felt so good on my cold skin. The main lobby was decorated like an old English tavern somewhere in the woods. It had a detailed carpet throughout the restaurant with dangling Christmas decorations falling from the ceiling. There were small lights everywhere and a Christmas tree in the corner. My mother went to use the restroom while my sister and I stood against the mirrored wall, waiting for her. A little girl nearby, was looking at the cupid hanging from the ceiling. "Mommy, why is he naked?” she asked loudly. It was so adorable how outspoken and inquisitive she was. She walked by and said, "Hi pretty ladies," to my sister and I. Then she walked away. She was precious.

My mother returned from the restroom and the two of us discreetly snuck my sister upstairs towards the bar. The steps were narrow and the bar was located in the attic of the Tavern. There was one small table left in the back of the room, and we hulled ass to get it. My mom squished her way onto the only cushioned seat, leaving Cassandra and I take a comfy seat on the ledge of the windowsill. There were two couples seated at the table next to ours. One of the men turned around and smiled at us. He said, "How are you lovely ladies doing tonight?" My mom said, "We're doing great. How about you, Sir?" He shot her a mischievous look and said, "A lot better now." It was kind of gross. There he was, sitting with his wife and another couple, hitting on my mother with no shame. He had to have been about 60 years old and not getting any younger. My mom is slow to catch onto most situations and continued chatting with him. She was laughing innocently and telling him how it was my 22nd birthday. Of course he followed this with, "You look too young to have a daughter that old." Thanks buddy. My mom did the whole "get out of here" gesture, like she didn’t know she looked young. Cassandra and I just sat back and let her do her thing. It was quite humorous, actually. The waitress paid our table a visit and I ordered my first drink as an "old" 22 year old. I've graduated from my usual White Russian, onto Apple Martinis. My sister ordered a coffee since she has about 7 more years before becoming of legal drinking age. My mom joined me by ordering her own Apple Martini. Before I could take a sip of my drink, my mom played the mother card, and snapped a photo of me with drink in hand. I felt like I was a baby who just learned how to walk. But I'll admit, it was kind of cute how excited she was. I was enjoying my drink and suddenly became startled by a Nutcracker on stilts, who was making his was up the stairs. My mother became wildly excited and reached for her camera. My sister and I hid our faces out of embarrassment. She kept snapping pictures of him in all different directions, including his back side. I wanted to hide under the table. Could she be any more embarrassing? It wasn't so much the picture taking that turned my face turnip red, but more of the expression on her face. She does this wide smile thing, reminiscent of a joker's grin. She was patting her knee and looking at the two of us girls for confirmation. I smiled back, as an attempt not to ruin her fun.