Saturday in NYC

So after coffee, some of Friday night's intoxication seemed to ease. Wifey and the Ds got up, and asked Barry's wife Donna to go shopping with them. That meant Barry and I were free to spend the day sans our lovely ladies.

We decided to walk to the Strand bookstore, at Broadway and 8th Street, near NYU. Although both of us were born in Queens, we really have no idea about Manhattan geography, and figured it was about 1 mile from our Battery Park hotel. We were wrong --it was closer to 4 miles.

It was HOT. We walked and sweated, sweated and walked, but, the whole way, discussed and solved issues ranging from our long term mariages to the coming US health care changes. We laughed and reminisced.

Since Barry's like my brother, and has been so for 30 years, of course I didn't realize it was his birthday --until he mentioned he got a text from his boys. I told him that reaffirmed we were the most heterosexual of male friends. I've always maintained that real guys have no business remembering each other's birthdays --unless they're father and son. I think Don Corleone agreed with me about that...

Anyway, we walked across the street to some kind of chocolate emporium/restaurant --"Chocolate by the Bald Man" or something. We were the only 2 heterosexual men dining there without any women. It was a nice counterpoint to my forgetting Barry's birthday. I treated us to a couple of delicious milkshakes, which fortified and cooled us for the long return walk.

As we neared the hotel, we stopped at one of the new World Trade buildings, which had a viewing area for gound zero. It was still packed with tourists, some with headphones and tape players like they have in museums.

We returned to the lobby, and drank prodigious amounts of Ritz Carlton lemonade. Wifey, the Ds, and Donna returned, and told of about their shopping adventures in the Village. And, it turned out, they were in the same chocolate restaurant within an hour of Barry and my visit. I guess all roads lead to chocolate.

Tragically, it was too late for a pre wedding nap, but we all went upstairs to get ready for the big event.

At 6, the 2 tour busses arrived, directed by Mirta, who took control of the logistics of moving 120 people from Battery Park to Brooklyn like the true manager she is.

I watched her trying to speak to the Asian driver, who spoke neither English nor Spanish. It was a funny sight.

Eventually, we all made it aboard. I was the last to enter my bus, so I guess I looked like I was one of the employees of the bus company. An older man, who I didn't know, started ordering me to make the A/C cooler, in a terrific NY accent. I accepted my order, and walked to the bus driver to pass along the request.

Someone must have told the fellow that I was only a fellow guest, and he felt foolish. "Geez --sorry, I tought you woiked for da bus!"

I told him to "fughetaboutit." Besides, I told him, working for a bus company was probably a better gig than the job I presently held.

And away to Brooklyn we cruised...