Best Weekend Ever: The Big Apple

My mom had taken off work Friday so we could hang during the day.

We dropped Ken off at his house so he could hang with his parents, and then ran some errands, went to the gym, and discussed my plans for the weekend.

"The 'check engine' light is on in the van," my mom told me, "so I'll have you and Lindsay share the Camry.  I should really take the car in, but with all of you home, that would be tough."

I don't believe the check engine light normally indicates much of a problem, so I figured we'd be fine.  Plus, I'd be using the "safe" car.

Later that afternoon, I picked up Ken.  We were going to go visit THE BIG CITY.  We both wanted to see our old friends and make sure that they hadn't forgotten us.

No longer used to the fast pace of the east coast, I arrived at Ken's too late and we missed our intended train.  I had hoped to get to the city before Carnegie Hall's work day ended so that I could see everyone in the office, but that wasn't to be and I unfortunately missed a few people (namely Haylee and Cathy).

My excitement, amplified by lack of sleep, grew and grew as we got closer to the city.  In Penn Station, I was ecstatic as I briskly walked over to the uptown C train, passing the Starbucks where I had purchased so many coffees.  Ahh, my old C train!  My old Starbucks!  I got off and practically ran the few block to Carnegie Hall.  Ahh, my old job!  I checked in at the entrance just after 5:30 and then waited around, greeting people as they got off the elevator to leave for the weekend.  Most of them still remembered who I was.

There was finally a lull in elevator traffic, and I went upstairs to see the new offices.  They had been renovated and I had not seen the finished product.  It was beautiful!  Very sleek and modern.

Everything in New York is sleek and modern.  I was a little nervous that I would look out of place given my new Seattle style, but I tried my hardest to look presentable.  I didn't have time to pick up my dry cleaning before I left Seattle, so I was wearing jeans and a second-choice shirt.  I brought my Kate Spade bag that Caitlin had given me for Christmas--a good move, as it received quite a lot of compliments at the office.

The Director of Developement asked if Seattlites were as grungy as I had feared, and I assured her that they (we) are, and admitted that we mostly wear sweatshirts and jeans, with nice boots to "dress it up." Those around me remarked that I still looked nice and that my bag was adorable, and I admitted I had dressed up to impress them.
 I regaled my former coworkers who were still at their desks with tales from the west, and at about 6:30, we left for drinks, gossip, and reminiscence. 

After drinks with Carnegie folk, I headed to get giant margaritas with my old Astoria roommates Tony and Jonathan.

From left to right: Jonathan, Mega Margarita, Ashley

 
As 11 approached and then passed, I realized I needed to get back to Penn Station in order to make the train Lindsay and Ken were catching (Lindsay was coming home from school, and would be the only of the three sober enough to drive).  Millions of people were also trying to get cabs from midtown, where we were, and eventually Tony just stole a cab from a foreign tourist, who quietly said, "that was very rude."  It was very rude, and I felt badly, but was also scared that I would be left alone in the city and in my drunken state did not know if I would get home.

I annoyed the cab driver to no end, asking, "Will we get there in time?!?".  We did.
I just made the train, found Ken and Lindsay, and chattered all the way home about my giant, fishbowl-sized margarita.

Best Weekend Ever: Bagels

We had a layover at LAX, which is the worst airport ever.  Maybe not ever, but it sucks.  There was garbage all over the floor, and in order to get to our connecting terminal, we had to leave security, walk outside (outside!) and go back through security. 

We also had a super bitchy flight attendant.  I had already powered down my phone, but then thought of how amazing it would be if my mom, who was so kindly picking me and Ken up from JFK the following morning, brought us bagels from Country Hot Bagels, a top bagelry in Northport.  We may have the best coffee (We do. It's so good you don't have to put anything in it, nor do you ever want to go to Starbucks to get a sugary drink that covers the taste of coffee.), but Seattle isn't known for its bagels.  It's not that I bought bagels that often in New York, but just knowing that I can't get a good one really makes me want to have one when I can.  When my grandparents from Oregon used to visit us as children, they'd buy a huge bag of bagels on their last day and bring it back on the plane.  I thought it was a little excessive, especially because they'd be stuck with a bag of day-old bagels, but that was before I lived on the west coast.  Day-old New York bagels are still better.  We should start bringing back boxes of pizza as well.

Anyway, the thought of bagels had entered my mind and I just couldn't shake it.  We were still taxiing, so I figured I'd have enough time to send a quick bagel order to mom.   I turned my phone back on and was almost done typing the text when the evil flight attendant came over and bitched at me. 
"Your phone needs to be off.  ALL THE WAY OFF."

"But I need my bagels!"

I pressed "send" and turned the phone off before I finished placing the order.  Luckily, my mom understood my message and one delicious sesame and one delicious cinnamon-raisin bagel, both with cream cheese, were waiting for us in the car at JFK.

Best Weekend Ever (1 of many)

Last weekend, Ken and I went back to New York / Long Island.  We needed to meet with my pastor who is officiating our wedding once more, and tied the visit in with Ken's birthday weekend.

We arrived on Friday morning at 8 AM (it was an overnight flight, and not much sleep was had).  While the plan was descending, the captain came on.

crackle crackle "Uh....we're making our descent...we should be landing at 7:45...a few minutes early." crackle crackle "Current temp is...uh...38 degrees Fahrenheit, three degrees Celsius."

At "38 degrees Fahrenheit", Ken and I looked at each other with disgust.

Getting off the plane, I was already feeling negatively toward the city.  But I wouldn't let the city get the best of me!   I was only going to be there for three days,  I told myself, and I shouldn't be snotty and leave a terrible impression on those who were nice enough to make time to see me.

My pep talk boosted my spirits and energy, and I was super nice all weekend.