Shotgun Daddy

NYC Day 6: The Day in Review

The last day of our vacation was long, but still seemed to go by much too quickly. We went back to Katz's Deli for breakfast, and the waitress remembered us from our first visit on Monday. Better than that, one of the managers, an older Jewish grandmother type, bonded with Henry over a plate of pancakes. When she overheard us asking for one order of pancakes for each of the three kids, she immediately advised against it. "Too much," she said. "Better just one for all three." We split the difference and ordered two. Henry, afterall, has a man's appetite. When Kate bumped her head on the table a few minutes later, our new grandmother listened to Kate instead of us and scurried off to the kitchen to get some ice. Later, when the food came and she noticed that Henry was waiting while Leslie and I tended to Alison and Kate, she jumped right in to butter and cut Henry's pancakes. In the week we were in the city, we didn't see any of the yelling or rudeness so often associated with New Yorkers. People obviously recognized us as tourists, and they were universally pleasant, welcoming, and helpful. The deli manager was only one example of this.

After breakfast we took the train out to the American Museum of Natural History. The museum has a subway stop on the bottom floor, so you go straight from the train to the museum in about fifty steps. We weren't sure how much time we wanted to spend there, so we went straight to the dinosaurs in the fourth floor. As much as Alison and Henry have read about dinosaurs, there's nothing quite like seeing an actual Tyrannasaurus Rex skeleton up close. Even I was impressed.

We made the time to wander around the rest of the museum, but soon enough we were walking through Central Park again, and it was just as beautiful as it had been on Monday.

After we left the park to emerge back on the east side, we stopped at a sidewalk bookstore, watched some street performers, and bought Henry a new cap at the Yankee Store. Finally we arrived at the Roosevelt Island Tram. Roosevelt Island is a tiny stretch of land in the middle of the East River. Its isolation was once used to house a prison, a small pox hospital, two mental institutions, and a virus research facility. Thirty years ago, though, all of that gave way to residential zoning and the tram was put in. The kids loved the short tram trip, which was our fourth different mode of public transportation after cabs, the bus, and the subway.

We finished the day with a trip to Serendipity 3, a restaurant favored by Oprah Winfrey and known for Its Frozen Hot Chocolates. After a quick stop at Dylan's Candy Bar, we finally headed home.

The Nexus of the Universe

If you're a Seinfeld addict, you know.

NYC Day 5: The Day in Review

I think we're all starting to get a bit sad that our time here is coming to an end; I know I certainly am. We're making the most of the time we've got left, though, and today was another busy day. Once again, bagels at The Bean, and then we took for the Statue of Liberty. The lines were soul-crushing at first glance, but the ferries are big, so we got on the boat and out to Liberty Island quickly. It's difficult to look at the Statue of Liberty without imagining what it must've been like for an immigrant from eastern Europe to see her for the first time rising above the horizon a hundred years ago. So much about New York City would be unrecognizable to that immigrant, but the statue remains essentially the same.

All three of the kids were buzzing with excitement as the ferry neared the island. Alison has been obssessed with the statue since first learning about it in school two years ago. Henry went into a panic whenever the statue slipped out of his sight, and only calmed when she appeared again in the adjacent window. Kate was a bit confused about the whole thing. Months ago when we first started talking about our trip to New York, Alison showed Kate a picture of the Statue of Liberty and explained we'd be seeing her in New York. Somehow, then, Kate equated the statue with the city. So as we've been touring around the city this past week, whenever Kate saw Lady Liberty -- and her image is almost everywhere -- she announced, "There's York!" Yesterday, though, she finally figured it out, and today all she could talk about was the Statue of Liberty.

By the time we finished looking at the statue and spending time at the museum on nearby Ellis Island, it was just about five o'clock and we hadn't eaten since breakfast. We hopped a train for a Thai restaurant I found called the Holy Basil. The wait was a bit longer than three squirrly, hungry kids could put up with, but the food was phenomenal. Seriously.

Now here's the most amazing part of the day. After we left the restaurant we were wandering down 2nd Avenue on our way to get some dessert when we came across a theater where Stomp was playing. It had never occurred to either Leslie or me to take the family to a show, but here we had stumbled upon the one Broadway show (okay, we were two blocks from Broadway) to which we could actually bring three children, and it was starting in fifteen minutes. The show was sold out, but once again fate smiled upon us. There was no scalping this time, but four excellent tickets went unclaimed and we were able to get in about two minutes before curtain. Leslie and I had seen the show before, and it was just as great as I remembered, but the best part tonight was watching Henry watch the show. This is a boy whose normal attention span hovers somewhere between a millisecond and a nanosecond, and he was focused like I've never seen him, laughing and clapping throughout the one hundred minute performance.

The worst part for me? I think that was when Kate whispered that she had to go poopoo very badly. In Katespeak, what this really means is, "I've just crapped my pants and I'd like you to clean up the mess." Weighing the potential disruptions of leaving a theater during a performance against allowing a child to remain in a theater with crap in her drawers, I chose the latter. After I cleaned her up in the theater restroom after the show, I hoped no one would notice the underwear I was hiding in my hand, but Kate blew my cover. In a ridiculously loud voice, perhaps so she could be heard above the din of the crowded bathroom, she asked, "Daddy, you put mine dirty underwear in your pocket?" I had no choice but to admit that I had.

After a few more cupcakes from the Magnolia Bakery, all was forgotten and we started thinking about tomorrow.

NYC Day 5: Liberty

NYC Day 4: The Day in Review

Just a quick report today. Perhaps readers will prefer brevity to exhaustive detail.

The started when we decided to try something different for breakfast. I spotted a deli down the street from our usual Sugar Cafe, and it turned out to be Katz's Delicatessen, which turned out to be kinda famous. The pastrami was delicious. This was the deli where Meg Ryan had her orgasm in "When Harry Met Sally"; our meal was uneventful.

Next we hopped a train to Brooklyn where we went to Coney Island to walk the boardwalk, ride the Cyclone, and check out the New York Aquarium. Then we went out to a cool Brooklyn neighborhood called Park Slope to gawk at the brownstones and eat at a place called Two Boots. The Two Boots represent Italy and Louisiana; the kids had pizza while I had red beans and rice and Leslie had chili.

To get back to Manhattan we walked across the Brooklyn Bridge, which was cool. It was surprisingly crowded for a Sunday night, but offered spectacular views of the city. We even caught sight of the Statue of Liberty for the first time. Another great day.

NYC Day 4: The Other Ocean

NYC Day 3: The Day in Review

Another full day began with bagels and orange juice at a local cafe called (I think) The Bean. We finished up at about eleven (we're still struggling to break from California time) and walked five or six blocks to catch the six train which would take us to the four which would take us to the Bronx and deliver us to my Mecca, Yankee Stadium. Thirty-one years ago, during the summer before I started the third grade, my family took a vacation to New York City. I was already crazy enough about baseball that when they asked me what I wanted to do, I immediately asked to go to a Yankee game. I still have vivid memories of that game, and I've been a huge Yankee fan ever since. Now that the Stadium is closing to make way for a new cathedral (after today there are only sixteen regular season games remaining here), I naturally brought my family for a visit. Coincidentally, the Yanks would be playing the Kansas City Royals, the same team they were playing when I was here in 1977.

When you take the uptown train to the Stadium, your arrival is dramatic. After rocking along underground the entire length of Manhattan, the train bursts above ground into sudden daylight as if rising to take a much-needed breath. Almost immediately you're upon the Stadium and if you watch closely you get a quick glimpse of the field through an opening above bleachers. The train is naturally full of fans on their way to the game, some of them season ticket holders, others coming for the first time, but they all react the same way. With eyes blinking against the sudden light, they bend to look out the subway windows and point in unison as if to remind each other of their shared destination. The doors open abruptly and the revelers are released to join the other fifty thousand souls lucky enough to be there that afternoon.

But alas, we were not yet among the lucky fifty thousand. We didn't have tickets, and the game had been sold out for months. No problem, I thought. We'd just scalp some tickets. I hoped to get the five of us in for two hundred bucks, which was a nice -- but unrealistic -- idea. Here's what really happened.

There's a narrow street that runs beneath the shade of the subway tracks alongside the Stadium. The block is filled with souvenir stands and sports bars which exist solely because the Yankees play baseball across the street eighty-one times a year. I imagine that on the nights when the Yankees are out of town, all of these businesses must disappear like an Arabian bazaar receding into the sand.

Fifteen or twenty black men walk quickly up and down the sidewalk in front of these shops, brazenly hawking tickets. At 12:15, the going rate is between $175-$200 a ticket. Since there is no way that a thousand dollar expenditure would ever clear both houses of our marital legislature, I decide to wait. For the next thirty minutes I speak to most of the guys, and they all learn that I need four tickets (I'm hoping that Kate will be able get in for free) and that I'm hoping to pay a hundred apiece.

It's an interesting situation. The closer it gets to the one o'clock gametime, the more desperate everyone gets. The price comes down a bit to $150 and even $125, but suddenly no one has four seats together anymore. They're offering me two seats in one section and two in another, which is obviously impossible. At this point, I'm thinking we aren't getting in. Leslie is pointing out the signs overhead warning of the dangers of counterfeit tickets, Kate is getting fussier by the minute, and I have to break the news to Alison that we might not get to see the game. And then to make things worse, a policeman walks through and sweeps the scalpers away. But it's like trying to sweep away the tide. As soon as he leaves they wash right back in.

And then we hear the National Anthem being played and everything changes. One guy who knows I need four tells me that he's got two, he just needs to find two more. For the next few minutes I see him sprinting back and forth from one contact to the next, all the while keeping an eye on me to make sure one of his competitors doesn't swoop in and take my money.

In all this chaos, an angel arrives. A Latino guy walks up to me and says -- without looking at me -- "You need four?"

When I start to answer he notices one of the black scalpers walking by and quickly shushes me. It's clear what's going on. He's working in enemy territory, and he's apparently taking a risk by trying to sell to me. When the coast is clear, he offers four bleacher seats for $400. I counter with $360 (for four $12 seats, mind you) and the deal is done. He has me step into a nearby bowling alley to make the exchange and asks me not to tell the other guys I had bought from him. No problem, I tell him. Finally, we're among the lucky fifty thousand.

The game itself couldn't have been better. The Royals had just finished scoring three runs in the bottom of the first inning when we arrived at our seats in the left field bleachers, but that lead was quickly erased when Alex Rodríguez blasted a three-run homer in our direction to tie the game. The Yanks scored three more times in the inning, added a Jason Giambi grand slam in the second, and cruised to a 15-6 win. It was beautiful.

Aside from the baseball highlights, there was an interesting visitor midway through the game. A dragonfly hovered in front of us in the fourth inning and gratefully settled on my outstretched palm when I offered it. He sat for a moment, then darted away only to return to perch on the back of Kate's shoe. I'll always wonder where a dragonfly might find a pond or lake in the middle of the Bronx...

After the game Kate slept for much of the long subway ride downtown to the base of the Brooklyn Bridge where caught a can for the short ride to Ground Zero. The visitors center was closed, but we were able to view the construction site and the massive list of names lost on September 11th, both of which were overwhelming.

The day ended with a trip to Little Italy for dinner and gelatto. But here was the most surprising thing -- Baby Kate walked every step of the mile or so hike back to the apartment. She held my hand the whole way, and I've rarely been so proud.

NYC Day 3: The Stadium

NYC Day 2: The Day in Review

The subtitle for today's entry should be adventures in public transportation, but more on that later. We started the day with brunch with an old friend and her family in their apartment on the upper east side. We all enjoyed bagels and orange juice as we looked out of their fortieth floor window to a beautiful view looking south towards downtown. Henry quickly hit it off with my friend's daughter. They had such fun together that he didn't mind jumping in their cab as the eight of us headed over to the Central Park Zoo. There the kids enjoyed a petting zoo and a puppet show before our friends left us to fend for ourselves in the park.

Central Park is simply amazing. We walked across it and back but still saw only a fraction. After a rainy Friday, it seemed that people were eager to soak up the beautiful weather Saturday had to offer. Children climbed rock formations, families picnicked, sunbathers luxuriated, and lovers relaxed in each other's arms. Unless you looked up and saw the skyscrapers towering above the trees, it was easy to forget you were smack in the middle of Gotham City.

There were, however, reminders. Dozens of roller skaters had convened in an open space to show off their disco moves, most of them looking as if they were still longing for nights spent in Studio 54. A few yards from that we came across a heated soccer match in which two contestants nearly came to blows. The fight was avoided when an older but not necessarily wiser player explained loudly to his angry teammate, "He don't like you? What the fuck do you care if that Argentinian faggot don't like you?" And with that, the matter was settled.

Somewhere in the middle of all this chaos a butterfly alit gently upon Alison's shoulder, as if to pull our attention back towards the nature all around us.

We jumped in a cab to head back downtown to our apartment where we'd stop off quickly before having dinner and meeting a friend of Leslie's for dessert. As we got ready to leave the apartment, however, I discovered that I had left my backpack in the previous cab. A quick Google search told me that the odds of finding it again are just short of astronomical. There are, afterall, about 13,000 cabs in the city. Gone are the leftover bagels from brunch, three jackets, a change of clothes for Kate, and some NYC travel tips.

After dinner at our favorite Sugar Cafe, we started walking crosstown along Bleecker Street towards the Magnolia Bakery. All the while I had the Simon and Garfunkel song in my head, but it wasn't until the way back that we saw the part of Bleecker that they were probably singing about.

We met Leslie's two friends in line at the bakery. I wonder if this place was as popular before America discovered it through Carrie Bradshaw and her friends, but it's certainly popular now. A doorman stood outside and every so often he opened the door and invited a certain number of customers to come inside and peruse the cupcakes, cookies, and cakes. I didn't make it inside because I was busy wrangling Henry who was hyper and Kate who was carried screaming from the store by Alison. Kate continued to kick and wail, much to the horror of the customers in line, many of whom could be seen making mental notes never to have children or at the very least never to bring those children into Manhattan on a Saturday night. She didn't stop until another couple, a couple who clearly had children of their own but were gloriously unemcumbered by them at the moment, stopped to chat. The woman spoke gently to Kate as she writhed in my arms and went so far as to offer her the sample scent she'd received from the perfume shop next door. It smelled just like a flower, she said. Kate took it, smelled it, and stopped crying immediately. I will now carry tiny, perfumed slips of paper in my pockets for the rest of my life.

When Alison, Leslie, and her two friends emerged from the bakery, we all crossed over to a park that seemed to have been built just so people would have a place to eat their cupcakes. Dozens of people came and went, including a bachelorette party, all with white cardboard boxes filled with cupcakes and dreams.

NYC Day 2: Magnolia Bakery

I'm told that Sex and the City fans would recognize this NYC sweets spot. I didn't, but the cupcakes were delish.