The Day of Too Much Wine

Since we arrived we have struggled to get up before 11am, but for some reason, I popped out of bed early to catch up on work and enjoy the street show from our window seat. The night before had provided quite the performance, as we watched an NYPD tow truck attempt to rid the street of a shiny black Jeep Cherokee. For some reason, the back wheels kept locking as soon as the truck would begin to pull away, so the officer would step out of the truck, open the door to adjust the gears in the Jeep (setting off the car alarm for another 5 minutes), then try without success to drive away again. After the fourth or fifth time, the whole scenario became ridiculously humorous to those of us standing around enjoying the show. The cop then waved down two more NYPD tow trucks, who attempted to help him figure out the best solution. I have failed to mention that the tow truck is blocking traffic in one direction, but don’t worry, those resourceful NYC drivers are simply dodging in and out of oncoming traffic at 75mph to get by. The determined best solution turns out to be that one truck driver assists the other in positioning the Jeep as if it were again parked on the street and leaving it there. This scenario has almost entirely played out until an actual NYPD car pulls up across the street. Apparently, the tow guys don’t want to explain why they are towing a car to the other side of the street and leaving it, so they quickly dump off the Jeep, return to their separate tow trucks, and speed into traffic, leaving a blaring Jeep Cherokee and a rather confused looking cop. We left the window open in hopes of hearing the person whose car had been moved down the block discover that their car was now parked in the other direction on the opposite side of the block. Unfortunately, we didn’t hear any yelling and missed the departure of the lucky owner.

Back to the beautiful morning…we both had work to do and so stayed in for the morning. We attempted to do laundry in the machines downstairs, but someone had left their clothes in the washer, so we’ll go another day without clean undies – this way people give you a little more space on the subway. Since I was sick and we have slowed down, it has felt more and more like a home here. I guess once you’ve bonded intimately with the toilet, the rest of the house just feels more homey.

Despite our cozy dwelling, by afternoon we were ready to meander a bit and decided to head out for coffee at Caffe Reggio, a famous coffeehouse on the southern edge of the village. We sat in comfy velvet chairs with big dragon head armrests and enjoyed the view out the window as well as in the shop. We are both still trying to figure out what it was about the UWS that seemed less inviting to us, and we spend the time here talking it out. Maybe it feels less like a community because these people don’t have to be out walking around sharing the neighborhood like less affluent people do. They have big apartments that don’t push you out into the world for fresh air like these little ones do, and they take the elevator out to the waiting car, then get out of the car and into their destination without even opening a door for themselves. It makes for much less interaction on the street this way. I know both ways of living offer benefits and drawbacks, but it’s interesting to think about the differences and ponder why we’re drawn more toward one than the other.

After delicious Italian pastries and cappuccino, we decided to head for the big discount store Century 21, which sells designer clothes that are overstock or out of season from the fancy chains uptown. However, I had read that Bluefly.com had opened a temporary store in SoHo, so I forced J to wander to find it because I hadn’t written down the address. We decided to divide and conquer, so I headed down one block and he another. As I turned the corner, there were beautiful people in over-the-top outfits chatting away in the sun, which distracted me from the people halfway down the block who started to yell at me in Italian. After I realized that I had stepped into a photoshoot, all I could get out was a meek “Scuzi” before jumping into traffic to get out of the shot. I figured getting hit was better than being yelled at.

This experience made me ready to leave SoHo and shop with the regular joe’s down at Century 21. This store is literally across the street from Ground Zero and opened just months after 9/11, becoming a sort of icon for the enduring resilience of the city. Leave it to discount shoppers to keep the city alive!!!

Saying this place is a zoo is such an understatement, I’m embarrassed at my inability to paint an accurate picture. There are racks and racks of clothes with a hand-written sign on top that announces the designer’s name. If you want to try something on, you go into a line of open-lockers, where you change in a community room of semi-clad women ignoring each other. I got trapped in the designer handbag section with a very scared looking businessman who seemed to have wandered into the wrong area. We survived, but it was hairy getting out of there. The whole place was more than J could handle, and we left feeling slightly light-headed and dizzy. J still had his very nice Abercrombie gift card from those Ohioans, so we headed a few blocks over to the Abercrombie store in the South Street Seaport. With blaring Cher in the background, we managed to find some swell jeans, but determined that the people who work in these places must be rich kids who don’t really need the money. The whole scene left us thirsty for a drink, so we headed to the South Street Seaport mall thingy and enjoyed a very peaceful beer out on the top level overlooking the East River and Brooklyn Bridge. We are obviously drawn out to the water, as it is the only place that affords a view past the next building, and it felt really nice to sit out there and relax.

On the way home, we decided to stop off to see Little Italy and maybe grab something to eat. We were both shocked at the lack of real community left – Mulberry Street (all that is left of the old neighborhood) looks like a theme ride in Disneyland. But, we were hungry and decided to stop and try the food in an effort to support what is left of Little Italy. One of the comedic developments of the area is that guys stand outside the restaurant and attempt to charm/pressure you into eating at their establishment. This idea seems to go against all that we have been taught about good places to eat in NYC and makes us nervous, but we pick one much to the delight of the “host” standing out front. As we sat at a little table outside, it felt like that scene from Lady and the Tramp when they share a spaghetti noodle, and we were surprised to discover that our waiter was overwhelmingly friendly. The food was good and the wine was flowing, and flowing, and flowing. Our waiter, who, by the way, is not Italian but Hispanic, shows his affection for us by giving us free wine, and more free wine. We already have shared a full carafe, so the additional glasses are like nails in the coffin. As we wander home, I begin to feel less and less that I am going to be okay in the morning, but by the time we reach our place, I no longer care. Oh well, at least it’s not Chinese food this time…