Ladders Leading to Nowhere

November turned out to be just as exciting. That Tuesday was the opening night of MTC's Nightingale, a one-woman show written and performed by Lynn Redgrave. She'd gone through a lot during the rehearsal process, and due to a medical problem she performed the play "on book" (with the script in front of her). Nevertheless, it was a lovely evening; she's such a gifted storyteller that it was enchanting just to listen. The opening night party was great as well, though it was admittedly a bit more reserved than the one for The Royal Family, being on a Tuesday instead of a Thursday. And the theatrical surprises didn't stop there! That Friday, my mom's friend Sherri was in town. An avid theater-goer herself, she invited me to come along to a show with her. We saw Carrie Fisher's Wishful Drinking at the Roundabout Theatre, which was a ton of fun. Ms. Fisher made fun of herself (and Star Wars - endlessly), but told an engaging story too. Afterward, we had some delicious dessert at an Italian eatery across the way, a perfect ending to the evening.

The next week marked the much-anticipated arrival of my good friend Jamie. Now, this is a pretty well traveled guy we're talking about here, his passport stamped in places ranging from Spain to Peru. Yet he'd never set foot in the Big Apple! Obviously, this was going to be a weekend of adventure. We started off pretty low-key though - or at least, I did. I had to work on Friday, so Jaime took in a lot of the sites on his own (things like the Empire State Building and a tour of the U. N. Building). We met up for some Thai food on 9th Avenue afterward, and he caught me up on his adventures. Then we set out for the KGB bar. This tiny little dive is a fascinating place (read the history if you have a moment) and can be somewhat difficult to find at first (it's on the second floor of a building with plenty of character). It's known for it's soviet-themed decor but mostly for it's awesome literary reading series; It boasts some sort of reading nearly every night of the week. Sadly, we made it just in time to see the crowds of the last reading leave, but we had fun soaking up the ambiance anyway. Hopefully I'll make it back sometime to check them out!

Saturday was when the real adventures began. First, we headed down to SOHO. It's a pretty wild experience going below ground in my Inwood neighborhood and reemerging in this swanky area of galleries and eateries; I'm still constantly amazed with the diversity found within this thirteen mile-long island. SOHO is always full of surprises too, as we soon found out. While Jamie and I made our way up from the Canal Street station, we noticed a fenced in lot along the Avenue of the Americas (which is actually 6th Ave, but don't call it that this far downtown or people look at you funny - not that I know this from experience or anything...). Now, that's not that unusual, even in this neck of the woods. But along the fencing there were sheets of plywood studded with hundreds and hundreds of tiny shimmering discs... and that just begged to be investigated. Upon closer inspection, we saw that in addition to the discs, there was an entrance. Turns out we had inadvertently stumbled upon LentSpace, a bizarre art project/nursery concocted by some developers who had the land but weren't sure what to do with it yet. So, until they do decide, it sits as this odd sort of urban sculpture garden (piles of rock and ladders sunk into concrete qualify as art... right?). Oh and there are baby trees strewn about too. A few parts intriguing... several parts odd... definitely New York.

To be continued!

Talking With Strangers

So, it’s 2010. I’m snowed in during a blizzard and realize my blog hasn’t been updated since… October? Alright, four months is where I draw the line (you may have been wondering where that line was exactly – now you know). I’m going to try and catch this up as efficiently as possible without sacrificing any details, so bear with me – and enjoy!


After a thoroughly soaked through Halloween parade and a late night rendezvous with friends in the village, I was eager to sleep through Sunday. My bed was cozy and warm, and a distinct chill had crept into the air, a chill that made the thought of leaving the house nightmarish at best. However, that Sunday happened to be the New York City Marathon, and I’d promised myself that I’d get to witness this awesome feat in the flesh. Somehow, I managed to get myself going (maybe the guilt in realizing that by the time I opened my eyes several thousand runners had already traversed 26 miles). I’d so glad I did.

I’d already scouted out the route during the week, so I hopped the A train with a specific spot in mind. I was headed for mile 23, a notoriously brutal part of the course that batters runners with the rolling hills of Central Park West. I figured any extra encouragement at this juncture would be much appreciated.

Instead of trying to get across town via subway (always a nightmare) I got off around the American Museum of Natural History (which I’ve yet to visit) at 81st, and decided to walk across the park itself. This was actually a strangely eerie experience. Other would-be-spectators started to appear and join in my journey, and eventually we began to resemble a sort of slow, east-west exodus, all moving silently towards the distant murmur of cheers. Or at least, we were mostly silent. I couldn't help but smile as I watched one anxious child bolt ahead from his father then wait a few hundred paces ahead until he caught up, only to start all over again. The boy seemed infinitely amused at this simple game, and shrieked with laughter every few steps. Once, as he began to sprint away, he slipped on some wet leaves and went down hard. He lay still for just a split second - a second in which the father's pulse visibly quickened - but then bounced back up again. The dad sighed as he watched the boy bound away, and I chuckled out loud. He smiled in return, and I told him I wished I had that kind of energy. By way of reply, he told me that they had to take the boy to the hospital again the night before, for breathing trouble - he was just glad he could run at all.

By the time we reached the actual course, our odd band of travelers was full of excitement, eager to join the raucous crowds cheering on the runners. I was amazed at the number of people already lining the sidelines. And they took their encouragement duties very seriously! They loved to yell “You can do it!” to those who were struggling and went wild each time they got someone to pick up the pace. There was no silent watching allowed either; you were scowled at if you weren’t cheering, and would soon be prodded to join in. That wasn’t difficult though – watching all of these amazing runners whizzing by made you want to jump in full force. A few were sporting some Halloween outfits (Winne the Pooh was my favorite) and many had written their names across their chests so people could call out personal encouragement. It was a wonderful time, inspiring and exhausting even to watch. But a great way to spend a Sunday morning.