Great Expectations… Beauty & Essex- (Part One)

I wonder if New Yorkers could ever grasp what’s it’s like to visit New York?

The sights, the sounds, the people… I know it’s just a city, but the skyline is one of the most recognizable in the world, and New York is one of the most talked-about cities of all time. 

We see it movies and on TV, and we write plays and books about it.  It is both broadly drawn out and filtered to us daily through detailed accounts.  We don’t even always see it happening, but some of the most epic tales of all time take place right here, in your own mind, your own vision of New York City.  It’s a force that encompasses almost every aspect of contemporary North American life- politics, fashion, entertainment, literature… dining.

To have these images engrained in your mind, and to have a sense of New York City in our collective consciousness creates a very powerful expectation. 

It was my first time, and it was a whirlwind.  Only two days as a tag-on trip after a conference in Chicago.  So I was arriving with a somewhat weary spirit and a definite sleep-deficit.  After several delays out of O’Hare, the time ticking by, and a rapidly shortening temper, I wondered if this trip was a mistake.  What could I really see in two days in New York? What the hell do you try and do?

Well, I discovered very quickly that you don’t TRY and do anything… you have to let New York happen. 

In relationships, I’m told, I have an issue with having too many specific expectations.  Apparently, I build up detailed scenarios in my mind... hoping against hope that they will turn out exactly as I’d like, thus resulting in my frequent disappointment.  (I like to think that I’m simply preparing myself for the ‘perfect’ experience in my life, visions and scenes that I can live out fully and get really excited about.  Sadly, I do set myself up to be disappointed.) The advice has been to relax and be surprised in the discoveries of life as they unfold, rather than trying to choreograph the desired outcome- (I’ve been attempting this lately, and it does seem to be working nicely, though I do think people should try and meet me halfway at times… but, I digress.)

So… New York City.

In my mind’s eye, I would sleep late, have breakfast at Tiffany’s, practice my catwalk in Bryant Park, sip ridiculously fabulous cocktails with some handsome tycoon at a smoky hole-in the wall jazz club deep in the heart of Manhattan, and fall in love with a stranger as I hailed a cab in the rain…. Busy day.  When would I fit in the slow-motion ice-skating?

I awoke in the wee hours of the morning to a jackhammer- no it wasn’t construction, but rather my friend’s snoring (who knew?) and it was 38 degrees and humid. The closest I got to breakfast at Tiffany’s was a walk-by with a Starbucks latte, and sadly, they had neglected to cordon off Bryant Park for me, so it was jam-packed.  The best thing we did was to book the big red bus tour (I highly recommend the cheesy red bus on your first day in ANY new city) and as I fried my usually sun-loving self on the top deck of the bus, I passed by many sights, many jazz clubs, and many handsome strangers.  As it was August, there was no ice-skating of course, but I did hail a cab or two (no rain), and by then end of the day, I was an exhausted kitten.

We almost cancelled our dinner reservation at Beauty & Essex.  Almost...

Stay tuned for Part Two... "Beauty & Essex"...