My trip to New York went by way too quickly but I had a blast seeing my friends.
Thursday's MAK Attack
At the last minute I found a cheap airfare to NYC so I didn't have to drive all that way to the city in my husband's stinky-but-economic car. I arrived at Patrick's apartment pretty early and we were able to grab breakfast together at Jackson Hole before he had to run to work.
I took a little nap at his place (I've been zonked for a month) and woke up raring to go. So, I jumped on the subway and made my way out to MAK's place in Queens. I had the best time hanging out with Matt, just the two of us, which is something we've never really done. I love that boy. I don't think we're all that much alike (except that we're both absolutely fabulous...*ahem*) but I still feel like we're two peas in a pod.
There are a few people in my life who I fervently wished lived closer, and Matt is one of them.
We laughed too much, gossiped too much, ate too much, and drank too much very expensive red wine. Matt put on my own personal, little cooking show. I sat like a princess in his kitchen while he slaved over his grandmother's recipe for risotto with sausage and pork. It was unbelievably good. When his man got home we each had an individual chocolate cake with raspberry filling. It was decadent.
We stayed up talking way too late so I crashed in the guys' guestroom.
Friday's Walk of Shame, Now with Cheese!
I slept in my clothes and rolled out of bed in the morning just before the guys were ready to leave for work. We took the subway together, each getting off at our own stop. And I kept my arms down and my mouth shut so as not to offend any of my fellow passengers.
It was when I was walking through the 42nd street station that I realized I was on a non-sex walk of shame!
I practically ravished my own toothbrush once I made it into Patrick's apartment. I have never brushed my teeth for so long.
After I changed out of my stiff clothes, and I forced Patrick to let me eat, we headed out to run some errands. And I can now tell you that the Target in the Bronx is exactly like the Target in my neighborhood, except for the signs in Spanish and the line in the restroom.
Patrick had the wonderful idea of having a long, leisurely lunch of wine and cheese at Artisanal on Park Avenue. We tried six kinds of cheese and all their accompaniments and I can say that I'd rate them from awesome to horrendous. My favorite was a little bit of heaven and my least favorite tasted like feet. But it was very nice to just sit and nibble and sip and talk about everything and nothing.
We waited in a short line at the TKTS booth in Times Square to get tickets for a show then headed a little uptown for a drink. On the way we ran into a Famous Author who I should have wished a belated happy birthday. (No way that man looks fifty!)
After just one nursed cosmo at Therapy, and one devoured blondie from a bakery I don't remember, we went to see Spring Awakening.
I loved the show. It wasn't at all what I expected. I have since heard that the male lead was...iffy, but we had an understudy (Matt Doyle) who rocked. It was a thoroughly enjoyable time.
Since the next day was all about meeting Patrick's new beau and Byrne's big 40th birthday, we headed right home to bed.
Saturday's Rides in Taxis
I slept in a bit on Saturday. But then rushed to put on a bra when Patrick got the call that his boyfriend (who I will now forever refer to as "The Doctor") was stopping by on his way to a conference to drop off his stuff. Gotta make a good first impression.
After I was fully dressed, Patrick and I went and did a little shopping on the Upper West Side. We had lunch at a little French Bistro where I had the best ham and cheese sandwich ever made. But while walking up to Broadway, I tripped in a crack and hurt my ankle. In order to get back to his apartment in time to meet The Doctor, Patrick let me do something he never does.
He let me take a cab!
We beat The Doctor back by just a few minutes and gathered up our stuff for Byrne's birthday party. The Doctor actually drove us down to SoHo (I think) and dropped Patrick off to set up. Then he drove me back uptown so we could get changed.
We had plans to meet Byrne for happy hour, so after he parked his car, I started talking to The Doctor about which subway stop the bar was nearest. He looked at me like the word "subway" was incomprehensible.
So we took a taxi to The Ritz in Hell's Kitchen.
It was great to see Byrne. And let it be known that I only nursed one delicious vodka and cranberry provided to me by The Doctor. It was fun to talk to an old friend and a new one. And I could totally see why Patrick and The Doctor are a couple. Those guys just match up.
We took another taxi down to Byrne's birthday party (that makes three in one day and counting, a record for me).
Patrick has a friend who is an amazing caterer and the party was held at her amazing apartment. When we walked in the door I was amazed at how Patrick had transformed her apartment for a dinner party. (Wow. I'm getting caught up with the word amazing here...but it was.)
I got to see some of my favorite people in the world. Let's see...like Jase and his boyfriend (one of the best guys I know), our friend Charles, Jess and Marc...I think that's it. I also got to meet some of Byrne's other friends, including her, which was very cool.
The hugs were going around like crazy.
So was the food and wine. I think we had seven courses, each better than the last. It was past midnight before anyone even thought to leave. I seriously think that was the best birthday party, maybe even the best party, I've ever been to.
(Happy Birthday, Byrne!)
Some of us stumbled, some of us walked out to 6th Avenue to catch a taxi home (make that four!). Apparently, The Doctor was drunk (I seriously didn't even realize, not knowing him that well) and he was asleep before I even made it back from brushing my teeth.
Sunday's Home Again, Home Again
Patrick woke me up way early to get to the airport, so I never did get to say goodbye to his boyfriend.
(It was nice to meet you!)
I barely slept the entire time I was in New York, so by the time I got my husband's stinky car home, I was wiped out. My husband and kids were out at a birthday party when I got home, but when I walked in the door I had to exclaim, "Oh. My. God!"
He had cleaned a ton. And unpacked even more.
Does it get any better than that?
I came home from New York with a bunch of fun memories, a Requiem score, some new friends, some seriously dirty laundry, an ankle the size of a grapefruit and (most importantly) even closer relationships with some very special people. And I never got drunk or had a hangover.
You can't beat that.
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