You Again

Bret Michaels is back in NYC.  And, I am very happy about it.  My long lost friend has finally returned.

We last saw each other three years ago when I was unemployed with a lot of time on my hands.  We spent hours together each week and really connected on many levels.  At the time, I counted his show, "Rock of Love", as one of the few quality television programs in the afternoon lineup.

I understood why he liked crazy women and slept in his bandana. I had no qualms with his pink lips, tattooed eyeliner, and Ed Hardy getup.  I got it.  It worked for him.

Yesterday, after years of no Bret, I got an unexpected surprise as I walked past the bus stop on 96th street.  A larger-than-life (and incredibly photoshopped) picture of Bret graced the side of the crosstown bus! I contemplated a brief hug, but settled on this post instead.

Apparently, Bret is in a happy place now and doing well.  As am I.  I like to think that we met at a time in our lives when we both needed each other most.  Together, we embarked on a new, exciting, yet nerve-wracking adventure. We needed each other then, but not now. We both made it.

Life definitely rocks.

* I attribute the over-the-top cheesiness of this post's ending to the overwhelming influence that Bret often exerts on me when left alone for too long in his presence.

Wine Tasting

This past weekend, Ben and I hopped into a car with Craig and Courtney to visit Chris and Melissa in Ithaca, New York. Chris and Melissa moved from NYC to Ithaca several months ago.

We wanted to visit good friends. We wanted to see their new spacious apartment (and not visibly seethe with jealousy). And, we really wanted to relax in a suburb void of noise and crowds.

We left of Friday evening. MapQuest said that the drive to Ithaca would take four hours. But, thanks to a host of inconveniences (weekend traffic, bad weather, and roadwork) it only took us seven hours. Fortunately, the endless rows of chain restaurants eased the pain.

On Saturday, we supported local businesses by visiting several wineries. Ithaca boasts quite a few and, as visitors, we thought it best to partake in as many wine tastings as possible in order to get a real taste for the area.

I took my camera and hoped to capture a few pictures of the weekend. That wasn't hard to do once our group loosened up after a few tastings. At first, everyone hesitated to pose or smile for the camera, but after a couple of wineries I couldn't keep them away. Suddenly, everyone was a supermodel.

At one of the wineries, we found an awesome spot to take portraits. The lighting was perfect and made us look good, real good. Although we got a nice shot of each group member, I'm sure we annoyed the other patrons. We repeatedly scooted them to the side so that we could capture our best selves.

Location, Location, Location

Ben asked where we keep the scotch tape.  He needed help finding the camera cord.  We last saw his passport somewhere in the living room. 

Ben not knowing where commonly used objects are kept is one of his quirks that I have gotten used to over the years.  I accept it.  I embrace it as one of his unique qualities.

But, last week, he definitely surprised me when he had no trouble locating one item. He immediately knew where to look and didn’t even hesitate when I questioned its very existence. 

The one, single, lone item that Ben knew the exact location of was… the chip ‘n’ dip tray. 

I say no more.

Caviar and The Carlyle

A couple of Fridays ago, a girlfriend and I enjoyed happy hour on the East Side.  She proposed the idea of going to Bemelman’s Bar at the Carlyle Hotel.  “It’s famous and expensive,” she said. 

Famous, sounded good.  Expensive, didn’t sound so good.  But then I thought about it a little more…

“If we go,” I replied, “we will always be able to offhandedly say in conversations, “Oh, the Carlyle?  Yes, yes, I’ve been there.” 

“And,” she continued, “we might see Barbara Walters since it’s one of her favorite spots.”

I immediately saw images of myself nudged on the couch between the women from The View debating ‘hot topics’ and pop culture. Barbara would quickly recognize my raw talent and put my journalistic skills to use on 20/20 to grill celebrities, politicians, and world leaders.

“The Carlyle sounds great,” I said.

We weren’t even sure that we would get into The Carlyle because of our casual attire. We arrived in an air of we’re-supposed-to-be-here-don’t-you-recognize-us-fingers-crossed and hopeful looks.  To our delight, the doorman ushered us in without question and a hotel employee escorted us to the restaurant.  We knew we were in the right place with service like that.

The host first sat us outside the restaurant at a little table.  I ordered the cheapest drink on the menu – a $14 glass of wine.  Quite a steep price when compared to the $2.99 bottle of wine from Trader Joe’s grocery store that sat on our countertop.

The host then scooted us inside the restaurant and sat us next to three men in their mid-forties who proclaimed to be self-made CEOs.  Each claimed to have a net worth of several million dollars, and they were celebrating a deal they cinched earlier that day.  Would we like to join?  “Everything,” they added, “is on us.”

Free drinks and free food?  Oh, yeah! Barbara would just have to wait.

They bought drinks and food for everyone to share. They ordered steaks, three platters of oysters (at $4 an oyster), crab cakes, shrimp cocktail, mini burgers, and a silver bowl of $325 caviar.  We had entered a world of no limits and it was pretty, pretty fun. 

I stuffed my mouth with caviar and mused about the New York moment we were having.  Legendary hotel, fancy restaurant, random people, free food… only here, I thought.  Nowhere else in the world would this happen to me.  My girlfriend and I partook happily for about two hours and then hopped into cabs, stuffed and excited to have shared another awesome New York experience.