Good. Now that I have that off my chest...
Spring break (alluded to in aforementioned previous post) was begun with an adventure, the telling of which you shall all hereby be subjected to, complete with pictures. Friday morning, early (and I mean early early. As in, we didn't really go to bed, just took a quick 2-hour nap sometime in the predawn hours) my friend Kate and I collected a few random belongings and hopped on a plane bound for unknown lands.
Sleep deprivation had surprisingly no affect on us, and we remained calm and sane for our entire sunrise flight.
Our first view of Broadway at night!
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| wet & happy |
Our view from the way-back was still great!
As the curtains opened, Kate and I felt our excitement bubbling over. Let the adventures begin! Two magical hours later, as the final strains of music faded from the dazzling performance, our shivering, growling stomachs demanded attention before returning 'home,' and thus we found ourselves crowding into a tiny, delicious little shop called "Pie Face" for some piping hot supper!
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| I had mini 'Thai Chicken' & 'Bacon and Egg' pies! |
But you don't want to hear about our trials, right? About knocking, and ringing, and calling our host on her cell phone (she was unavailable), and (trying) calling our parents back at home, and the discussion of whether we should call a cab to take us to a hotel or sleep in the stairwell, and the tears of frustration that are inevitable when one is exhausted and cold and wet and locked out of the only place resembling home...or about when we finally discovered the lock just worked a little differently and we'd been raising a ruckus on the stairs for absolutely no reason at all. You just don't even want to know, right? Didn't think so.
There were two very tired, slightly subdued, reluctantly apprehensive girls sleeping in NYC that night. However, as the sun rises, so does hope, and when the light of day and gleam of blue sky blazed through our window the following morning, we found ourselves ready for whatever this city could throw at us!
We planned our route, guzzled our breakfast (that is to say, we bought juice and drank it) and were on our way to visit another part of Broadway (read: shopping)! Somehow, it took nearly an hour longer than we intended. You see, we had this wee problem with the subway...
But you don't want to hear about our separation, right? About my failure to realize until (apparently) the last minute that we were at our stop, and hopping up saying "this is us," only to hear a tragic "SARAH!!" and turn to see the door closing between my friend and I, as her frantic, grinning face slid away into the darkness. About me, doubled over, absolutely convulsing with silent laughter on a lonely subway stop, straining every nerve to not break into out-loud, maniacal peals, thinking, "I've done it, now. I've lost Kate in New York City," and seeing over and over again in my mind's eye her expression as she and the subway deserted me. About the well-known fact that cell phones don't work below ground, and all I could do was pray she would get off and wait for me at the next stop (since I was route planner, she had no idea where we were going, and no map with which to try and figure it out). You just don't even want to know, right? Didn't think so.
Thus it came about that our shopping time on Broadway totaled about 20 minutes, during which time we snagged a hugely over-rated hot dog from a stand (talk about puny) and enjoyed some fab people-watching. After confirming our route with a subway-office-worker-person, we hopped on a train bound for Battery Park for our 2pm Statue-of-Liberty departure! Somehow, we didn't make it on time. You see, we had this wee problem with weekend train schedules...
But you don't want to hear about our spontaneous visit to Staten Island, do you? About that moment when the next station was announced as "DeKalb" and everyone else suddenly bolted off the subway, leaving us to blink at the map (trying to find this fabled "DeKalb") and chant, "that lady said this was the right train." You don't want to hear about our arrival - which we discovered to be quite a bit out of our way - at 1:45 on Staten Island, only to learn from a helpful local that "the trains run different routes from the map on weekends," or about our indecision on how to get where we wanted to go if we couldn't trust posted train routes, about the kind older gentleman who took us under his wing until we arrived - 30 minutes late - at our destination. As a whole, you just don't even want to know, right? Didn't think so.
Thus flew the first 20 hours of our time in the Big Apple. Tune in next week for Part II: Statues, Sunburns, and Central Park. (Tell me that doesn't sound enthralling.)
