On Friday, I rode the bus to New York, armed with a jumbo bottle of hand sanitizer and many preconceived notions about bus travel. However, the bus was new and clean and the other riders seemed much less under the influence and much less aromatic than fellow riders on the last (and I thought, final) bus trip I took many years ago.
The sanitizer was a good call, however, because bus bathrooms do not have sinks. What they
do have is a sign on the wall above the toilet that shows an outline of a man in a suit and fedora sitting on the toilet. Right next to that is a picture of a man in a suit and fedora standing up -- with a huge red
X through him. I took this to mean that if you are dressed identically to another passenger who is using the restroom, please do not stand right next to him as he is doing so. (Frankly, even when I am not dressed the same as someone else, I tend to employ this personal space courtesy. But I suppose it is nice to provide a reminder for those who don't.)
I arrived in New York in four hours and my friend, Meredith, had taken the day off work to meet me at Penn Station. It was pouring rain, so we hopped into a cab to go to lunch. During the ride, Mer began telling me a story about her next-door neighbor and how she can hear him having (interesting) sex with his (very vocal) girlfriend at all hours of the night. (Well, until recently, when she heard a lot of banging on the wall and a plea for help and then no noises since.) We arrived at our destination about midway through her story and as we were getting out of the cab and paying the fare, the cabbie said to me, "I really wanted to hear the end of that story." She finished the story about the murderer/sex fiend over lunch, then we talked about her upcoming vacation to the Turks and Caicos, dramaturgs (look it up) and our crazy parents.
After lunch, I went with her to an audition, and we met up with her husband, John, who was also auditioning (not for the same role). (He is an Emmy-nominated writer for the Chris Rock show and a comedian and pretty much hilarious 24 hours a day.) You may understand (as I do) that probably what drew him to Meredith initially is the almost-constant comedic fodder she provides -- just by being her. (Case in point: just before her audition she walked down the hall to use the restroom and walked right into the men's room by mistake where she saw a half-naked gentleman applying deodorant. To his nether regions.)
After the auditions, we headed to their apartment on the Upper East Side. As we got into the cab, Mer noticed a sign in the cab that said, "This is a Happy Cab." Because she is Mer, she said loudly, "Hey, we're in a Happy Cab." When we arrived at our destination, the cabbie asked, "Which one of you said this was a Happy Cab?" and Mer said, "Me," so he handed her a coupon for a free cab ride and a new Dooney & Bourke wallet. (Closer investigation revealed that this was actually a Booney & Dourke wallet, but that didn't make it any less exciting.)
We freshened up, then headed to the Metropolitan Museum of Art for a Friday night thing they have where they stay open late, play music and serve wine. Or as we like to call it, "Friday Night Pretension." Because it was still pouring, the rooftop wine/music party was postponed, but we did get to tour the museum, which was amazing. We got to see the new "Model as Muse" exhibit that just opened and also spent a lot of time looking at the Impressionists and the Egyptian stuff because
we know so much about art the Temple of Dendur in the Egyptian exhibit is where one of our favorite scenes in
When Harry Met Sally was filmed.
John met us at Brother Jimmy's BBQ later that night, where we had a great dinner, then we went back to their apartment. The neighbor kept it down that night (double entendre intended) so it was a very restful sleep.
There is too much pepper in my paprikash,
Brutalism
(Stay tuned for New York Part II -- Dori and Jen)
