NYC, March 2011, Day 1

I think that everyone knows how I do not bother with personal stuff on the Waste.  For example, you have never been forced to read about what is going on in my life.  That would be a waste.

But I do have to update you on two facts.  The first, you should be very sad about.  Barbie was invited by a tour company on an amazing week-log trip in India, and she was not allowed to bring a guest.  Yes.  This means that you, the loyal Wasters, and I did not get to spend the last seven days in India.  That, my friends, would have been incredible.  Barbie has taken pictures, and I believe I will probably bend the rules and include posts about travel that did not include me.  In case you missed it, Fact One is that Barbie has been in India and instead of coming home she is meeting me in New York City.  Why are we meting in NYC instead of Los Angeles?

You might recall that last November we had tickets to see an NBA game at Madison Square Garden, and the game was cancelled due to a ceiling tile falling from the rafters.  That NBA game was rescheduled for March 28, which necessitated another trip to New York.  Therefore, Barbie is not coming home from India.  She flies from New Delhi to New York, while I fly from Los Angeles to New York.  All of this was Fact One.

Fact Two is that our family has unofficially grown.  A promising young actor needed a place to stay in Los Angeles for six weeks, and we opened our guest bedroom to him.  He is a friend of a friend, and we had not met him before.  Big risk, I know.  But things could not have worked out better, and within the first week it felt like Nate was part of our family.  Odd, I know.  But that is how it played out.

Therefore, Fact Two is that instead of taking a cab to the airport my unofficial son is driving me to the airport.  By the way, my unofficial son is a 21 year old professional model.  Like, he is so incredibly handsome that corporations pay him to stand in front of a camera in his underwear.  So... you know... all you people who think your babies and children are "so cute," well, I do not mean to be a snob but your actual offspring are nothing compared to my unofficial kid.  You should hide the pictures of your kids, really, as you are simply embarrass yourself.

The view of LAX from Nate's car.

Another thing.  My college roommate John Gillis visited Los Angeles recently and said, in plain English, "Pictures of people are good, too."  I know he is right.  And even though it is my instinct to not point the camera at people and take their picture, to instead focus on pictures of things and food and places, I am going to make an effort to take people pictures on this trip.

However, in hindsight, I blew it on day one.  I should have gotten a picture of Nate by the car as we were about to head to the airport.  It would have been a great substitute for all the taxi pictures you have seen.  I promise, promise, to take pictures of people this trip.

Sunny and warm in Los Angeles.  The good news is that while New York had been freezing cold and raining this week, as of today it is apparently freezing cold and clear.

Did I mention that Barbie has spent the last week in India?  Why would I not experiment with ridiculous facial hair during her absence?  This picture is actually me in the United Airlines Red Carpet Lounge bathroom, about to shave off this ridiculous... chin beard?  Is that what you would call it?  I have no idea.

I suppose that I could explain how I ended up in the Red Carpet Lounge on a coach ticket.  Surprisingly, it is not because I am that charming.  Before leaving for India, Barbie packed a suitcase for me to check so that she would have warm clothes for New York.  My clothes are all in a carry-on.  Anyway, due to a few unforeseen events I arrived at check-in 43 minutes before my flight was leaving.  They would not allow me to check my wife's suitcase.  The ticketing agent saw in my face just how badly I needed her help, and put me on a flight two and a half hours later in Business Class, and gave me a Red Carpet Lounge pass.  Phew.

Phew indeed.

I might have been shaving off the ridiculous facial hair in the public restroom, instead of the class Red Carpet men's room.

The high class cookies in the high class airport lounge.

LAX Candid, March 2011.  People gathered around the charging station.  This is a no-look candid, and the woman in the leather jacket moved to her left, obscuring what would have been a better shot.  Seeing five people desperately clinging to public electrical outlets in an airport is the modern equivalent of weary travelers of old kneeling around a puddle to sip dirty water.

My ride.

Airplane Candid.  March 2011.  Another no look.  I stuck my iPhone's camera corner just beyond my seat and snapped whatever was going to be there.

Legroom, courtesy of a kind ticketing agent.

JFK.  I felt compelled to tweak the colors, because it was 35˚ Fahrenheit and the green-bue tinting makes this look colder.

By the way, after exiting the plane, and standing around the baggage carousel for Barbie's suitcase, I found myself the last man standing.  Yes, every bag came off the plane except Barbie's.  I kept my cool, as a day remained before she arrived to fix this, but considering I was put on a later flight just for that bag and then that bag did not appear almost caused bricks to begin slipping out of my body.  I walked over to the baggage office with my baggage ticket, and inside the crowded room, right by the door, sat Barbie's suitcase.  The woman inside told me that she was sorry, that they were supposed to bring it to the carousel when the flight arrived, but that they were busy.

What was not lost on me was the fact that this suitcase went on the original flight.  The flight that they would not check the bag for because I got to the ticket counter 43 minutes before the flight instead of 45 minutes before the flight.  The flight I could have easily been on, but was moved off of because it was too late for this bag to get on that flight.  Great system.

The ride into Manhattan.  It took my many, many tries to get a non-bouncy shot from the Williamsburg Bridge.

Most look like this, which I kind of like.

The Williamsburg Bridge will always be special to me because of the Soul Coughing song True Dreams of Wichita.  You should purchase it.  I should put a link here for you to hear a free sample of it on iTunes or Amazon.  There are few better songs.

Home on the Lower East Side.  Yes, coming to Denise's apartment in NYC is like coming home.  New York visits are not travel.  We do not come here often enough to call it home, but it feels like home.  And shame on me again.  I should have gotten a picture of the building's front door, but I took this one while the driver was handling the credit card and by the time he was done I was so incredibly cold that I wanted inside, fast.  Maybe tomorrow I will do better for you.