I awoke with a start as the tube rattled and hissed. Problems? No, no, all was well. I could hear the next missive hurtling towards me. I reached for my glass, then paused. Later, time for a drink later.

After breakfast we headed out with Jamie and Brenda for the art walk through the galleries of Chelsea. No one else took up their offer, more fools they. We did about 7 or 8 galleries with a broad range of artists. I loved the Russell Young print of Frank Sinatra and the Frank Gehry conceptual sketches of his architectural works (including the Guggenheim in Bilbao) were awesome. Leslie fell in love with the collection of Jean-Michel Basquiat. Look him up, it’s an awe inspiring story.


We stopped at a park to use some washrooms and checked out the dog park; it was half the size of our old St Albert house’s back yard. Small.

I loved the $16,000 bronze of a rooster’s head and the $8000 iron resin horse-headed man. There were also some super cute bunnies with a fortune cookie saying “Next time order the shrimp.”


On the way back we took the highline for a couple of blocks; it’s an old elevated railroad turned into a walkway and park. Ingenious and beautiful. We caught a bus back towards the Flatiron Building and went to a deli called Eisenberg’s. Traditional New York deli so I ordered the traditional pastrami on rye. Delish. Leslie had the matzo ball soup, again very traditional.



< The restaurant was a study in awesome. It was long and very narrow with mostly bar seats. Each guy working behind the counter was responsible for about 5 or 6 patrons and whatever cooking stations were in his area. The yelled back and forth (mostly in Spanish) and food meandered back and forth depending on its needs or ingredients. All in all a very traditional, and very New York, meal.

It had started to rain but we were off to the Intrepid Museum. A short train ride and a longer walk and we arrived at the USS Intrepid, an aircraft carrier vintage 1943 -1974. It houses a number of planes including the closed (as a result of Hurricane Sandy) exhibit with a space shuttle. One of the highlights for me was the Blackbird, a Cold War vintage CIA spy plane. Afterwards we walked down the pier and checked out the Concorde and the Hudson River. On the way out we toured the Growler sub; this was a short-lived 60s-era design that launched early cruise missiles. Not as small as the WWII sub I saw in San Francisco but small enough.



After we toured the sub we walked east to Broadway and Times Square and grabbed tickets to the Albee show at 40% off. Then we hopped a train to Lincoln Center to pick up tomorrow’s opera tickets and scooted back for the 7 o’clock show. Somewhere in between we grabbed a hotdog with relish… a real treat here in Yankee-land.

After a bit of hanging out under the canopy at the Booth Theatre we watched the pack of teenagers grow and grow. “Why,” Leslie asked, “are there a bunch of teenagers going to an Albee play?” “Why,” I replied sagely, “they must be a school group.” We’ll I turns out they were just waiting for the theatre doors 2 theatres down to open so they could see Once.

We found our seats but were moved closer to center due to a camera being in our way. Better seats. The play? Abso-fucking fabulous! I had seen it done in Edmonton but honest to god it was crap compared to this. I still don’t like musicals, but I just might be a Broadway convert.

Back on the train and then we hit an all night diner for a late late supper. Challah French toast for Leslie and a chicken triple decker for me. Then it’s home to beddy-by.


My mind is swirling yet I shall not sleep until tomorrow night. What odd spell is in these missives?