My Last Night in New York ... Make That New Jersey

So after seeing Big Bird at La Fenice, I headed back to my [former] building to change into travel clothes, zip up my suitcase and catch my towncar to the airport. Although I never do this, something compelled me to call JetBlue and confirm that my flight out of JFK to Long Beach was on time. I just about dropped the phone when the automated computer voice said “Flight… Two-One-Seven has … been… canceled.” I had to press “replay” just to make sure I’d heard correctly.

Really? On my last day in NYC the last flight of the day to SoCal has been canceled? On the very day that the movers took everything away and I don’t even have a bed to crash on overnight? This was all very poetic (and predictable) in a warped Murphy’s Law sort of way.


I looked at my watch. 3:06. My car was due to pick me up at 3:30. Should I just cancel the car? Should I go to the airport with the hope of figuring something out once I get there? I dialed our corporate travel agent and within a few minutes, I had a brand new ticket on a new airline (US Airways), out of a different airport (Newark), in a different state (New Jersey), headed to a slightly different destination (Los Angeles) and with one connection (Phoenix). Not exactly ideal, but considering how many flights had been canceled due to the weather, I felt pretty fortunate just to have a ticket.


At exactly 3:30, I rode the elevator down (for the last time), hugged Leo and Nigel (two of the building concierges) good-bye and located my driver out on the street. As he threw my suitcase into the trunk, he said “All set to go to JFK?” I responded, “Nope! Change of plans – we’re going to Newark instead!” Without missing a beat he said “No worries, I could take you to Philadelphia if you wanted!” and we were off towards the Lincoln Tunnel.


When I arrived at Newark, my new LAX-bound flight was already running almost two hours late. Given that I had only an hour layover in Phoenix to begin with, I called US Airways and re-booked myself on the first flight from Phoenix to LA the next morning and then I called Marriott and booked myself a hotel room as close to the airport as possible.


Over the course of the next 6 hours, the US Airways gate staff in Newark would delay the flight another 5 times, each time adding 30 – 60 minutes to our anticipated departure time. Finally our aircraft arrived, but Mr. Murphy had diverted another plane with our intended flight crew to Albany for refueling.


Finally, at 11:00 pm, a sheepish gate agent came back over the loud speaker and said, “At this time, we are officially canceling Flight 352 to Phoenix”. A collective groan went up in the waiting area and one woman collapsed in hysterics.


I called a couple of hotel chains to try and get a room, but characteristically for New York, every room was booked. The Marriott Rewards customer service agent told me very seriously that there was a room at the Ritz Carlton Downtown in the city and it was a gorgeous 2500 sq. ft. suite with incredible amenities. We both dissolved into giggles when she said it was only $7500 per night. I told her I would have considered it for $6500, but $7500 was just a little too over the top.


I called JetBlue back again and had them scour their Saturday schedule for west bound flights. All New York-Long Beach flights were long since sold out and overbooked, but the agent was able to send me to Salt Lake City and then connect me through to San Diego where I would have to rent a car for a two-hour drive to Special K’s house in The OC.


It was now close to 11:30 pm on Friday night and I was staring at the very real possibility of either (a.) hanging around Newark airport all night (no thank you), (b.) going back to my now empty apartment and sleeping on the floor (less than ideal) or (c.) wandering around Times Square all night, pulling my last “all-nighter” Big Apple style (exhausting just to think about – besides, what would I do with my luggage?)


I called Nick on his cell phone, reasoning that if they were asleep already, the cell phone would be off and at least I wouldn’t have woken them up. Hallelujah! Nick answered on the second ring and soon, I was in a towncar, heading back into Manhattan where I crashed on Nick and Reny’s couch for the night.


Nick and Reny fed me a great breakfast and we even had time to take wee Ryan out to the courtyard for some soccer before I was due to catch yet another car bound for JFK. Upon arrival at the airport, I was not surprised at all to see that my Salt Lake/San Diego flight was already over an hour late. I finally got out of JFK at about 3:00 pm on Saturday afternoon and after a bit of a planes and automobiles adventure (no trains, although it was close), finally showed up on Special K’s doorstep at about 9:30 pm on Saturday night, roughly 36 hours after this whole adventure had begun on the opposite coast.


Escape from New York complete! And I look much cuter with an eye patch than Kurt Russell did.

My Last Day in New York

As far as moving goes, Friday actually went fairly smoothly. There were a couple of hiccups, but nothing that derailed the process in any way. In spite of dealing with the logistics of moving, my last day in NYC was actually pretty great -- surprisingly so since I had mentally prepared myself for a gruelling day of potential nonsense beyond my control. (As it turned out, I wouldn't be disappointed -- the nonsense would come later (in spades) and as you'll see from my next blog entry, it was completely beyond my control.)

Quick review of Friday ("Move Day"):

At 6:00 am, I got up to shower, un-make my bed and get the last few things tucked away in boxes.

The movers were booked (and confirmed) to show up between 8:00 and 8:30 so that they would have enough time to load before I had to leave to catch my flight later in the day. The moving foreman finally appeared around 9:15 and the truck showed up an hour after that. They assured me that it wouldn't take long to load the truck and they were right -- they were pretty much done by 1:00 pm, even though they had to deal with a double-booked elevator and someone else who was trying to move in as I was trying to move out.

After tipping the movers and loading them up with various cold bottled drinks to take with them, I was left alone in my now empty apartment. I took a few minutes to remember the first time I saw this apartment when I first picked up my keys almost two years ago. It was empty then, too, but full of possibilities instead of mostly pleasant memories. What a difference two years makes and how humbling to realize that your presence hasn't made any structural, permanent changes and that the few marks that you did leave on the wall will just be scrubbed or painted away and that space will come the anchor for someone else's personal story very soon. As I thought about that, I dug a Sharpie marker out of my bag, got down on the kitchen floor and wrote "I Heart NY" on the bottom of one of the kitchen drawers. A little silly perhaps, but I liked the thought that a little piece of me will remain on the west side, at least until that kitchen is remodeled.

Because of the movers' efficiency, I had a couple of hours before my car was due to pick me up at the airport, so I headed out to grab some lunch. I was only planning to hit a deli for a quick sandwich, but as I was walking down Columbus, I slowed my pace as I walked by an Italian restaurant I had always wanted to try. "La Fenice" has always looked quaint, warm and inviting from the outside, but I had never actually been there for a meal. I went inside and sat at the bar and struck up a conversation with the bartender. Instead of a banal sandwich, I had ravioli neri with gorgonzola cheese cream sauce (I'm not due to check my cholesterol for another month or so, thank goodness!), a brilliant ceasar salad and a bread basket with a medley of different pastes and dips.

Now THIS was worthy of being my last lunch in NYC! When Peter The Bartender found out that I was moving that very day, he also treated me to dessert on the house, an incredible layered treat of mango and raspberry mousses.

When I was half-way through my lunch, an older couple came in and all the servers went over to say hello. Even Peter the Bartender left his station and visited the couple with the white, silvery hair for a few moments. When Peter came back to the bar, he leaned in and said to me "That guy is Big Bird on Sesame Street! They come in all the time!" My eyes immediately drifted to the wall space above the mirrors behind the bar where a plate was hanging with a hand-drawn sketch of Big Bird and the signature of Caroll Spinney. Peter saw my eyes go immediately to that plate (because I'd seen it as soon as I sat down) and he smiled and nodded, "Yep, that's him!"

I smiled at what a truly "only in New York" moment this was and how great it was that this should happen on my last day, at an unplanned lunch at a restaurant I'd never been in before.

Peter and the other servers wished me the best of luck and I headed home (for the last time) to change clothes and grab my suitcases. This is where the "nonsense" started. Stay tuned...

Please Don't Go! (Or "New York's Last Act of Desperation")

New York, please don't stand in my way. We've talked about this. You know I have to leave. We're just not meant to be together long-term. I need to move on and put some space between us for a while. Your holding me back just makes the whole situation more difficult for both of us. You're so aloof and hard to get close to so much of the time, so I find it surprising that you're actually trying to hold on to me. (Frankly, it comes across as a little desperate, and it's not a side that I'd show very often if I were you.)

Haven't you ever heard the parable about the sun and the wind? Or the saying that if you love someone, you should set them free?

You know I love you, but preventing me from leaving on not just one, but TWO flights is just not cool.

Goodbye My Lover, Goodbye My Friend

As I sit here, surrounded by boxes, less than 48 hours before the movers come, I'm reflecting on the last couple of years and feeling so content in knowing that not only did I actually have a great opportunity to live and work in New York, but that I also made the most of it -- exploring the city, learning this "new" culture, and building wonderful friendships. But as the last few things lie scattered around my apartment, waiting to be tucked away for the voyage westward, I know that it's time for the next chapter. After all, it's written right in the lyrics of Baz Luhrmann's "Sunscreen":

Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard.
Live in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft. *

So, off I go to Northern California!

It's kind of like an athlete retiring at the top of his/her game -- leave while you still love it, aren't jaded and have sweet memories. (Um, Brett Favre? What the heck??)

Also, they are building another huge apartment complex behind my building and within a few months, it will be tall enough to completely block my currently unfettered view of the Hudson River. And a rather noisy Beagle moved in down the hall a couple of months ago and yodels at the most inopportune times.

And to top it all off, I just ran out of return address labels. If that's not a sign, I don't know what is.

* PS (I also lived in Los Angeles once and left before it made me superficial. Oh wait, that's not actually in the song.)

The NYC Farewell Tour

As my last week as an official NYC resident marches on, I'm trying to see as many friends as possible before the movers descend on my apartment on Friday, ready to whisk my worldly belongings westward. (At least, I hope they "whisk" my belongings... but it sounds more like a painful, labored trudge across the continent -- it could be up to three weeks before I am reunited with my many boxes of random things.)

Yesterday, I had a great lunch with Esther and then rallied a bunch of folks for drinks and appetizers after work for my "see ya' later" get-together. We all convened at Amalia, one of our local haunts, just down the street and around the corner from the office. I did take a bunch of photos and once I find the box where I stashed my camera/computer cables, I'll be able to upload them. (Don't hold your breath -- we are at least three weeks away from opening ANY boxes.)

It was great to see everyone and catch up a bit, but a special thanks to Kim, Cortney and Oda -- you guys know why. :-)

Tourists Keep Right

Hanging out on a lovely August evening with the gang Saturday night, sipping on Proseco and Cassis, the conversation bounced around a number of topics... in the space of a few hours, we managed to cover the Russians' invasion of Georgia, the Olympic games opening ceremony, the price of real estate in Manhattan (and the absolutely painful process of furnishing all necessary documentation for a loan), the impending birth of wee twins, and the history of the fake boob. (Yes, you read that right. We are a well-rounded group and can converse on many, many topics. We even had a doctor in our midst who interned with the son of the fake boob inventor.... pre-Dow Corning lawsuits.... at least I think that was the connection... the Proseco made my brain a tiny bit fuzzy by this point in the conversation.)

At one point, Nick and Gemma were comparing notes on where their new offices were located and it turned out that both of them were right in the thick of Times Square (about 10 short north-south blocks from where my office is/was).

They were lamenting (and everyone else was completely sympathetic) about how difficult it is to have an office in or quite near to Times Square because of the volume of tourist foot traffic. If you have been in Times Square, you know what I mean. It is wall-to-wall people there most of the time and if you have an actual destination that you are trying to get to, it is almost impossible to pop yourself out of the slow-moving crowds so you can walk briskly (like a good New Yorker) to your next meeting.

Our solution was that the sidewalks in the Times Square area should really be divided with a dotted white line (like a regular freeway) and every so often, there should be signs saying "Slower traffic keep right".

Tourists to the right, New Yorkers in the fast lane...

Things That Are Driving Me Nuts At This Moment

-- The fact that Twitter is not updating on my blog. (And the fact that Twitter has updating issues on a regular basis.)

-- The fact that no matter what I do, I can't get rid of the double header on the the left side of my blog... and what's more, I have no idea what happened to even create it in the first place.

-- The fact that when my laptop falls asleep, it is harder to wake up than the big guy sitting in the aisle seat on the plane when you REALLY have to go to the bathroom.

-- The fact that there appears to be no rhyme nor reason why certain emails land in my Junk Mail folder.

"Yes, I love technology, but not as much as you, you see..."

Almost Famous

I am huge at SNA and SJC.

No, unfortunately, those are not the must-be-in-the-know names of new, so-hip-it-hurts nightclubs. Those are the codes for the Orange County and San Jose airports respectively. I have now officially been traveling too much.

This week, I arrived at the Orange County airport for my flight where the American Airlines gate agent recognized me immediately and chatted hockey with me for a few minutes. (We had commiserated when the Pens lost the Stanley Cup this past season.)

When I arrived in San Jose, I went to pick up my rental car and even though I had to queue in the lane next to his, my buddy Ranjit spotted me and gave a big enthusiastic wave. Before I knew it, he had bounded over to my car (abandoning his own line of cars waiting to exit the lot) and was rapping on the passenger side window. As I rolled down the window, he stuck out his hand for a hearty handshake and exclaimed, "Sheddy!! How have you BEEN?? Haven't seen you in WEEKS!!"

And finally, when I arrived at my hotel that evening after a day at the office, the front desk clerk looked up and said "Hi, Ms. Gunn, we've been wondering where you were."

Seriously, I'm going to have to start wearing giant sunglasses and a baseball cap before the paparazzi start hanging out in the office parking lot at lunch.

A Big Birthday Thank You

I recently (as in, two days ago) celebrated a birthday and I have to admit that this one completely snuck up on me because my schedule has continued to be rather random and bi-coastal.

But I do want to extend a grateful thank you to family and friends who managed to track me down where ever I was via phone, email, Kaboodle, Facebook AND surprise me in a variety of ways:

- Big kiss to Special K who sang to me on Friday night (along with PJ), surprised me with an ice cream birthday cake (which PJ picked up), and sent me a beautiful bouquet of a dozen red roses.

- The whole Kaboodle gang who rallied for a huge company lunch at the local pasta joint. (Hit or miss on the food, but the company was great!)

- Special thanks to Cristina, Kristi and Brenda who treated me to tapas and caipirinas at Cascal where we always enjoy ourselves.

- Shout out to my grandparents who sang "Happy Birthday" to me in stereo on the phone and to my parents and the gang in Vancouver for all their warm wishes.

- And a HUGE hug to Brenda who has told me at least twice that I look like I'm 24. (I haven't the heart to tell her that she needs new glasses.)

Shop Til You Drop

Somehow, I ended up on the VIP invitation list (as did hundreds of others, I suspect -- so I'm not really that special) for Gen Art's Shop NYC event which was held on 18th Street in the Metropolitan Pavilion last Wednesday night. I cajoled Oda into going with me -- ok, we're both shopping fans at heart, so I didn't have to expend very much effort "cajoling" her.

Gen Art is an organization devoted to showcasing emerging talent in the fashion, entertainment, music and arts arenas and produces over 100 shows each year catering to these areas. The Shop NYC event highlighted fashion works from 50 - 60 emerging design talents in everything from apparel to shoes to handbags to jewelry. The venue was packed with women looking for unique items (at a discount) and a few misplaced men who stood to the side looking appropriately bored as wives and girlfriends rifled through racks of tops and dresses and fingered handbags and jewelry on the display tables.

We did a hot lap to see what was there, glasses of Bailey's and crushed ice in hand. Once we had downed our glass of liquid courage, we through ourselves fully into the fray as well and emerged victoriously with a necklace each from Odette New York and tops from Yumi Kim.

By this time, we'd worked up a significant appetite and at Oda's suggestion, we popped in on Markt in Chelsea and enjoyed a late dinner of french onion soup (best I've had in ages) and salad. (Kathy, if you're reading this, I FINALLY made it Markt after almost two years! And you're right, it was fantastic!)

As all true Kaboodlers know, shopping (and dining!) IS more fun with friends!