We’ve been here nearly a week and it feels like five minutes, except that evidence of the trip is strewn over every surface of the hotel room. There are passes from talk show appearances and dying birthday flower arrangements and nine million new toys from every cool toy store we passed and chocolate wrappers and torn off VIP bracelets and wet bathing suits. We believe in upholding the rock tradition of trashing our hotel room, we just add our own family-friendly twist.
To begin, the above completely rad photo is Scott on the jumbotron in Times Square. I didn’t feel like dragging the baby out in the rain to see it, but my sister-in-law is a better gal than I and she sent me the proof.
The next morning it was still wet outside, so we headed straight for the Natural History Museum, about which I get very sentimental. I have such vivid memories of it from my own childhood. But apparently I wasn’t the only one with the idea to take my kid to see dinosaur bones on a rainy summer day. It was such a madhouse that I wound up crouched in the corner in front of the stuffed manatees, head in my hands, trying to remind myself to breathe. The only other place I’ve seen that crowded was the Vatican in August and I nearly had a panic attack there, too. I’m not sure who liked it less, me or T. We ate our twenty dollar tickets, turned right back around and went to walk around Central Park.
It was barely drizzling and the park felt lush and magical. We climbed on the rocks and looked at the ducks and it wound up being a great afternoon. I’m glad we bagged the museum plan.
You know we’re on vacation (albeit a working vacation) because Scott and I went and had a proper night out. Rachel Weintraub, my dear friend since I was nine, is a total Sting groupie and was seeing his show at the Met, so we met her afterward for dinner across the street at Fiorellos. The night was all my favorite things about NY: delicious late dinners at sidewalk cafes, breezy, pleasantly humid summer nights, good people watching, great conversation, long walks home past all kinds of mysterious downtown nightlife.
It made me yearn to live here again. But of course, that’s without having to schlep my kid and all our laundry to a laundromat six blocks away or to carry our groceries home in the middle of winter. It’s easy to ache for a city you’re vacationing in. I love our life in LA and I wouldn’t swap. Still, I miss it here sometimes.
Stay tuned for more stories of Tariku painting the town…