That's The Reason That I Gotta Get Out of Here -- NY's Not My Home

So fate and American Airlines carried me to NYC for a quick visit. I had to have some papers signed by a grateful client who agreed to meet me there rather than outside Troy, NY, which is not the easiest place to get to from Miami. I stayed for the first time at the Gramercy Park Hotel, which is surprisingly situated right next to Gramercy Park. GP is much more honest and actual than Central Park. You have to be very rich to get inside its iron gates. The park was built in the 1800s as apartment houses went up around it, and the charter said only those living in the immediate neighborhood or staying in the GP Hotel can get inside. Apparently, lost keys cost like $500, and you need them to get both into and out of the park. I asked to go, and a valet walked me over and gave me a number to call to be let out. After guests lost too many keys, the hotel decided it was easier to simply accompany them there. I felt a little like a mental patient allowed in and then out for a visit. But, the park was lovely. The plantings were gorgeous, and the stately ancient trees were awesome. I sat by a statue of someone and pondered the situation. As Springsteen sang, there are winners and losers, and don't find yourself on the wrong side of that line. This park had rich, Gossip Girl looking moms with strollers that looked like they cost more than my Buick, and some quirky older folks who also had that look of old, or at least older, money. Regular folks peered in through the wrought iron fence, as those of us who either lived there or had $500 per night to stay at the hotel sat on the benches. The hotel was romantic and historic. Babe Ruth used to go to the bar, and Blondie and Madonna stayed for long periods -- as did Steinbeck. Teddy Roosevelt was born and raised in the 'hood. I sat at the Jade Bar and had a martini. The bartender told me the hotel was owned by Ian Schrager's group, who also own the Delano in South Beach, and the waiter sometimes worked there. I told him I was born just a few miles to the East of where we were --in Queens -- and he said he was from Nebraska. Funny -- I'm headed there Friday to watch my Canes play the Huskers. He said he didn't like the Canes. Yesterday the light rain fell, and it reminded me of so many gray skied NY days of my childhood. The cab came -- a new hybrid job with a sunroof and a nice Haitian driver, and we talked about Little Haiti, where my father in law now lives. He had stayed there with relatives, and had no idea there was a huge Jewish nurising home there, painted pink to boot. So I'm back in the land of heat and humidity -- but off again in 2 days. Wow -- Northeast, Southeast, and Midwest in one week. I'm a regular Johnny Cash...or Jim Croce.