Yeesh. I argued with myself about posting today. I've actually been having a really hard time lately with the whole "what the heck am I doing with my life" query hanging over my head. My birthday's coming up and I've been doing so much introspection that I may have given myself a philosophical x-ray. I'll be walking along and then bam - mini panic attacks - like little stress inducing comets in my mind. "Who am I?" "What do I want?" "Is everyone on Facebook either going to grad school, engaged, married, pregnant, gainfully employed or all of the above?" Looking around, it just seems like the whole world has it much more together than I do. But, I am really lucky to have wonderful friends and family who stick around and listen to this crazy woman called me. They remind me to stop looking at walls while mumbling.
Well, now that we've gotten that out of the way- pictures of pancakes and purple pants. We (Mom, Aunt, Sister, Cousin, Friend, me) spent several days in New York. Now, I'm from California, born and bred, so I don't do "weather." Might I ask: what the bloody heaping heck is up with East coast humidity? It's like the entire city of New York turns into a sweat lodge come July. We decided to go on one of those double decker bus tours, which normally are great, but not when it's not 110 degrees in the shade. I have never sweat so much in my life. It felt like I was filming an underwater documentary about thermal vents. I wore these light lavendar shorts that were made in this flimsy-silk-like fabric. Yup. Good choice. At one point, I stood up and it looked like I had been sitting in a vat of grape jelly. I literally thought "Did I just pee on myself? And if so, will that cool me down?" Oh, the joys of sweat.
Battery Park: finally, we felt a breeze. Then, lower east side with some of the best grafitti I've ever seen. I love how Lo looks like an Ralph Lauren model, KGB is bringing it with her rockstar good looks, and I am wearing my purse like a codpiece so that I can cover my giant grape-esque sweat stains. Chic.
Then off to the Clinton Street Baking Co. Witness the strawberry rhubarb lemonade that saved our dehydrated lives. This place is adorable, teensy, and quite frankly perfect. Not only did I get the best pancakes of my life, but I also discovered the wonders of "maple butter." You take maple syrup and you mix it with butter and you get "butter maple syrup." I will never be the same again. Mom got this incredible carrot ginger soup and Aunt Susie got french toast that wouldn't quit. Un-be-lievable food. Just wow. Just...no words...joy.
While walking through Greenwich Village I spotted this sign. Great, now I want jam...and butter syrup...
We ate some delicious food and tried on some gorgeous vintage wear while in New York.
Best vintage store ever? Easily Amarcord Vintage Fashion in Soho. I picked up a YSL skirt that I am still not brave enough to wear (I'm working up to it). Hayley bought a necklace by Givenchy that is so beautiful she plans on leaving it in her will to her future imaginary children.
Funny story, my mom was recognized by a celebrity. While we were in Amarcord, Matthew Modine (of Married to the Mob fame) entered the store to ask if they carried prom dresses. They said yes and he exited to make a phone call. I was like, "That's Matthew Modine, ya'all" and they knew it to be so.
While we were leaving, Matthew Modine tapped my mom on the shoulder and asked, "I'm sorry. Have we met?" She blew him off. At first I totally thought he was trying to pick her up, which on second thought, I'm pretty sure he wasn't. Although, my mom does get hit on a lot. Me not at all. I'm ill tempered and squinty, but my mom is a lovely vivacious woman, so there you go. Anyhoo, my mom was recognized by a celebrity.
Lombardi's pizza was gooey and delightful. We got two types of pizza: margherita and white. Both were crispy and fresh out of the oven.
This trip weren't for no faint of heart sissy eaters. We stopped by Rice to Riches for some post-pizza rice pudding. They have the best spoons, one of which I kept and packed in my luggage. I really liked the spoon.
We rounded out the evening with some sky scraping sandwiches at Junior's in Times Square and then a walk to Rockerfeller Plaza. Loooooved Junior's, mostly for the ambiance, but the food was pretty solid as well. If you go try the egg cream (don't worry no egg in it) and the cheesecake and the red devil food cake and the black out cheesecake and well...just try everything.
Ever notice how certain trips have a lingering motif? A code word? A connective tissue? Memories and images that stick with you long after you've unpacked your luggage? I love when my trips have a "through line."
For example:
Williamsburg 1996: Fife Beret -> Hayley got a fife; I got a beret.
5th Grade Trip to Pigeon Point: Pescadero Charades -> I went to Pescadero; I played charades and won!
Hawaii 1998: The Black Eyed Grandma -> My Grandma got a black eye, but all I got was poi.
Paris 2000: Death March 2000 -> We walked so much my feet fell off.
Camping 2008: Fire Evacuation Milk Duds -> While we were evacuated, I ate milk duds.
When I got back from my East Coast excursion, I began to wonder what the through line was. Then it hit me NY/Boston 2011: Cheeseburger Dan Rad. You see, on this trip I ate quite a few cheeseburgers and I saw quite a bit of Daniel Radcliffe, and for this I am definitely the richer.
We went to see two Broadway shows in New York: Jersey Boys, and How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying. Of the former, I can say little (some nice numbers, some good singers). Of the latter, I will say, "Daniel Radcliffe you are a goshdarn adorable British button and I hope you will accept this proposal of matrimony."
How to Succeed in Business is your typical capitalistic morality tale with charm and high kicks. Set in the 1960s, it follows young J. Pierrepont Finch (Radcliffe) as he finagles his way from window washer to young exec. Along the way, there's a girl (cause there's always a girl). Along the way, there are complications (cause there are always complications). John Laroquette, of Night Court fame, is a delight as J.B. Biggley, the President of the World Wide Wicket Corporation. The best moments of the show were always when Laroquette and Radcliffe shared the stage. It was akin to watching youtube videos of "unlikely animal friends," delightful and unexpected; but with a feeling of truth and gravitas.
Clip from favorite number of the evening "Grand Old Ivy"
Why did I like Dan Rad so much in this production? Daniel Radcliffe: It's not that he's that great a singer (homeboy can hold a tune but he ain't no Pavoratti). But, he can dance and he can tell a joke and he can be present on stage. It also doesn't hurt that he is pretty much the cutest thing I have ever seen and I have seen a lot of puppies and rainbows in my day. Maybe it's the fact that I've known him in some respect (on the big screen) since he was 10. We've all watched him grow up. So, when I was watching him perform on stage, it was as if I was watching the boy next door playing the lead role in our community's production of How to Succeed. Not to say the production wasn't top notch and Mad Man chic. It was. But, at its core, what I witnessed was somebody (Dan Rad) doing something (a Broadway musical) that he shouldn't have been able to do and he did it and he did it well. He pulled it off; he done good; he's made the old folks proud.
Now, did I mention that the night that we went to see the show a large portion of the "Harry Potter" cast was also attending? Yup. Rupert Grint (Ron), Tom Felton (Malfoy), Matthew Lewis (Longbottom), Emma Watson (Hermione) were all in attendance. 15 minutes before curtain, we were sitting in our seats when all of the sudden celebrity wildfire broke loose. It began with a squeal. Somebody squealed in the back row of the theatre and then somebody else squealed and then there were whispers and yellings and much twitterpation was begat. Women gave birth, young tweens swallowed their retainers, grown men wept. I exaggerate, but only slightly. We were all agog. I actually saw two teenage girls crying and holding each other. No, those two girls weren't me.
The show was wonderful fun, like a 1960s sorbet. Every joke, line, and prop piece landed where it was supposed to. Now, maybe the show was extra good that night because Dan Rad was showing off for his movie star cohorts. Maybe the show was extra good that night because the show was just extra good. But, I like to think that Dan was just really excited to have his friends in the audience, like any local kid in a community show would be. When you watch somebody on stage, no matter how costumed or method they might be, you get a sense of who they really are. Dan Rad is a solid performer, but he's also the nice kid you grew up with.
Suit up. I made my shirt just prior to the third movie. Lo made hers specially for the occasion. Ah, memories.
Flash forward several days, I'm in Boston. I'm watching the final Harry Potter movie and sobbing my eyes out. I'm watching Harry Potter, Hermione, Ron, and all of Hogwarts (except for those darn Slitherins) do this thing (destroying Voldemort) that they should not have been able to do, and they're doing it, and they're doing it well. So, I'm sobbing, but not out of sadness, though I am sad; I'm crying because I'm proud of Dan and all the kids up there. They done good. They made the old folks proud.
I frequently museum. I museum most frequently. I have been to the Children in War exhibit in London, the Italian Torture Museum, and even the Louvre (best 15 minutes of my life). Often, my friends ask me, “How do you do it? How do you museum with so much class and efficiency?” To museum successfully is quite simple. Just follow these suggested guidelines.
1. Walk casually through the space allowing the art to speak to you or even hit on you (those saucy Reubens). For example: this Goelet Schooner Prize designed by Tiffany & Co. (1884) screams tartar sauce and traumatized fish sticks. You can practically smell the terror.
These bottles look like hot air balloons and they evoke a hydrogen sunrise.
March to your own drummer, ballerina.
2. Dress like a museum guard or like a person who likes museums (taupe and pearls). Blend.
3. Get background info by frequently asking museum workers questions like..."If I licked this painting what would you do?” “What would it taste like?” or “What color is this wall?” “Do you have any paint swatches?” ...Benjamin Moore Ecru is very popular.
4. Never be afraid to express how the art has moved you: with words, with gestures, with unfortunate songs you wrote about your breasts ("My Busby Berkeleys are Timeless") but shouldn't have sung in public because there was a tour group right behind you...Never be afraid to be expressive.
5. Finally, always remember to lean into art, physically, lean into culture.
Believe it or not, I actually finally at-long-last made it to New York. Some of my favorite people in the world were there to greet me: my mom, sister Hayley, dear friend KGB, little cousin Lo and aunt Susie.
Where to first? The Central Park Zoo. I did not want to go. It was hot and zoos kind of freak me out. They remind me of what I think a strip club would feel like, only without the free waffles and with more pandas. But I went because my sister freakin' loves zoo. She has a zoo fetish. Whatever city we're in, she's looking for zoos, usually in cities that really shouldn't have zoos. I'm talking the two of us paying twenty bucks to watch a pair of penguins sit in a kiddy pool, those kinds of zoos. But, I went to the Central Park Zoo and had a pretty great time.
Highlight of the zoo trip was easily the red panda which is both adorable and lazy: a killer combination.
Turns out that red pandas are also crepuscular...
I now know that I am officially crepuscular. Speaking of crepuscular, time for lunch! We took a quick ramble through the upper east side all the way to the delicious Shake Shack. SOOOOO GOOOOOD!
We were all starving so the wait felt like for-e-ver. But so worth it. When the buzzer went off I felt like I had won the food lottery.
They serve you the grub on a great big metal cookie sheet. No flimsy plastic trays for this buffet. Love. I got the classic shake burger with cheese. Hayley got a Chicago dog and Mom got the shroom burger. Now this might just have been the hunger talking, but this place was A-MAZing. Everything was delicious, especially the black and white shake we ordered for dessert. Nothing says happiness like a chocolate shake with lots of marshmallow fluff.
Let us take a moment to gaze upon these fries. Crunchy and delectable and gone so fast.
As we walked towards the Met, filled with shake shack, we passed this sign. I can safely say I have no idea what it means, but the irony is not lost on me. Hail the ruptured crepuscular panda.
My last day in Chicago was…hard. It's strange coming to a city that you've never been to before. 2 weeks later and it feels like a little home with favorite streets and sights and sidewalk graffiti.
I finished my classes (Improv 2 and Writing 2) and realized that I was going to have to say goodbye to a lot of people that I would really miss. In two weeks time, we had made a comedy family. I'm a sentimental fool, but I held in my tears, at least for a wee bit and said my goodbyes.
I had three hours between the end of class and my flight to New York, so I figured I'd walk back to my hotel and pick up my luggage. As I walked, I said goodbye to some of my favorite Chicago sights. Goodbye cute sidewalk cafe (the one with the huge pancakes) that I never got to go to. Goodbye way too hip barbershop that I secretly longed to get a hair cut in. Goodbye Panera, my adopted local Panera, my home town hero. Goodbye. Goodbye. Then from the midst of my nostalgia I realized that I had a message on my phone, an automated message from American Airlines telling me that my flight was cancelled due to weather and that I had been rebooked for a flight headed to Newark at 5 am the next morning. At first I thought it was a scam, a Nigerian scam, because everything is a Nigerian scam. Then I thought maybe, maybe this is for real. Maybe I'm stuck in Chicago and I've already said goodbye to my Panera and now I'll have to do it all over again. SON OF A MOTHERLESS GOAT! I began to cry. Then I began to swear. Then I began to start pulling it together and then I thought screw it and then I started crying and swearing again. I had an emotional downpour on the streets of Chicago and people were looking. It reminded me of that scene in Steel Magnolias. You know the one: Sally Fields breaks down in the cemetery over the grave of her dead daughter. "I just want to know WHY?! WHY?!" I might have over-reacted. I definitely over-reacted.
Flash forward a half-hour and one phone call to my sister, I called the airline and changed my 5am flight to Newark to a 10 am flight to LaGuardia. I actually went into my Panera's to buy a post-breakdown dinner and a huge-ass cookie. I went to my hotel (where I had already checked out) and checked back in. I lucked out and got a free upgrade to a junior suite, sweet. I got in my pj's. I watched Netflix. I had a bedtop picnic with my Panera and realized if the worst thing that happens to me is that a flight gets cancelled and that I have to say goodbye to nice people, well then life is pretty swell.
So, thank you Chicago. You are one hell of a town. Thank you to John and Sarah and Meg(transported Californias and wonderful hosts). Thank you to my teachers and my fellow class/soul mates. But most of all, thank you to American Airlines (even though I did call you steel crap balloonists) for helping me put things in perspective and giving me one more night in Chicago.
