How's That Again?: And It's Only Friday

I had grand plans. I usually do, actually. This time, despite my best intentions, I couldn't figure out how to write the things I have been planning for a month or more- we can refer to that nonsense as Plan A...

So, I took a vacation. Although I had no intentions of telling you about any of it, the vacation of a lifetime has turned out to be my Plan B topic tonight- nope, we're calling this Plan C... (I should also make a little disclaimer here: This is for me. It will be loooooooong, as has become my habit recently, and probably incredibly un-interesting. However, it must be documented because it matters to me, so no apologies...)

Plan B would have been a photo blog post of my little working vacation, but life sometimes SUCKS and circumstances made that a virtual impossibility. I'll tell you about that in a minute- but only because Kristin, in her sweet, meek and humble way, strongly forced me to- right in the midst of my hissy-fit. (I prefer to call it grief, it seems a so much more valid display of emotion to classify it that way.)

Back in January I spent a considerable time day-dreaming about the kind of life in which a girl like me could flit off to amazing places, spend time with people I love and, without the distraction of mothering responsibility, take photographs of people, places and things outside of Montana... all to my hearts content. The day-dreams turned into a bit of a flirtation- Google and Travelocity reciprocating a flirty response in return. Since my birthday is in a couple of days... I batted my eyelashes, smiled coyly and suggested to Google that I gift myself with a birthday trip to New York City to see one of my amazing little brothers...

Google is a fabulous wing-man. Travelocity offered his hand and led me to the dance floor... $405?! You barely can get to Seattle from here for that! Oh, but after that dance I got bashful. With my chin fallen, I asked Google for an excuse. I'm a self employed, single mother. I cannot be frivolous or foolish in any aspect of my life. I simply cannot afford to be selfish with my time or money yet.

It's almost like Google was waiting for my objections- precisely at the same exact time as my mommy-free week and the ridiculous airfare during my birthday month, Google was now offering me THE trade show of all beauty shows- International Beauty Show- the NYC edition. Sold. Say no more, I'm your girl... (Google and I continue to enjoy and on-again-off-again relationship, but that's for a different blog.)

Thursday

I flew into Laguardia a couple dozen minutes before midnight, NY time, on a Thursday. The story begins this night, believe it or not. I'm not about to waste time on the ground in this adventure- besides, it's only roughly 10:00 p.m. at home.

The brother and I grabbed a cab to Williamsburg in Brooklyn, also fondly known as Hipster Central in my heart. After a brief meeting of one of the room-mates, we dropped my luggage at the bachelor pad he recently moved into. I do mean "bachelor" in every "sense" of the word- all five senses were on high alert at all times. God bless you little brother, for cleaning a bit of the manliness off things before I arrived- you deserve a medal of some kind, I'm still working on that...

Food was the next order of business. We linked arms and mosied through Hipster Central for a few blocks. My heart swelled with pride, marvel and excitement to be in this- his city- and to hear him tell me about his favorite places and the experiences he has had on this street since moving here a few months ago. We turned into a busy little sausage bar, ordered a pint and a plate, and squeezed in at the counter.

I looooove watching people. Even better than watching, is getting to know them. The bartender that night was as delightful to talk to as he was delicious to look at. As we chatted, the little brother informed me that he would not be able to take the weekend off as he originally had planned. At work they were up against a tight, moved-up, deadline and would be likely working around the clock to meet it.

Friday

Friday came early. The brother had given me a choice: hang with the quiet strangers in his house and figure out my own entertainment all day, or follow him into New Jersey, to his job, and figure out my own entertainment there. Oh, and it would be a cold, windy, pouring-sheets-of-rain kind of day. I chose to follow him like an annoying little sister tag-along. As we cuddled under the teeny umbrella, he introduced me to the first of many, amazing, unique, neighborhood coffee shops. No time to linger, we had a train to catch...

As we shoved ourselves onto the crowded train, my brother did his best to describe where we were going and how to get back, if I needed to without him. I didn't listen. My plan was to wander, photograph, meet him for lunch, and wander more until he got off- then we would head home together. Plans, schmanns.

On our walk from the train to his office, through the streets of Hoboken, he showed me interesting things. We passed the bakery belonging to The Cake Boss. Lame, tourists were already outside taking pictures and lining up for it to open. I decided right then: I am not going to do touristy stuff. Well, as little as possible, while still experiencing this place. I love the un-ordinary, I do not love cliche. I love the un-expected places, I do not love the prescribed agenda.

As the little brother introduced me to a co-worker, it became obvious that there was a great deal of pressure and stress at the work-place. Leaving them with their videos to edit, I took the umbrella and set out. If Umbrella Wrangling was a sport, I'd only make the blooper reel. I absolutely destroyed that ridiculous thing. The handle fell off, the spines stripped, it easily blew in and out of inversion. My previously straightened hair was now an absolutely sopping wet mess of curls- I'm not even going to try to describe the discomfort of my soaking wet jeans and pleather jacket. I. WAS. FREEZING.

I'm nothing, if not a survivor. I found a CVS, bought a new $6 umbrella, and nearly ran to the Starbucks I had seen on my way in from the train station. I'm ashamed... Starbucks? With all of these crazy-cool coffee shops? Whatever, Starbucks was well lit, warm and, best of all, had outlets galore. The phone/camera I had planned to shoot with all day was roaming like crazy and had been draining its battery like it had a siphon.

I guzzled coffee, thawed my wet fingers, and ventured out again. This time, down to the water. Manhattan was barely visible with the clouds and rain. Beautiful. I enjoyed the sounds- I'm not sure which was louder, the busyness of the city or the thoughts in my head. Very rarely have I been so miserable, yet so at peace. I would love this day- come hell or high water.

I met the brother for lunch, briefly. He scarfed his curry chicken, a fancy dessert and and $8 pear juice (yuuuuum) before hustling, minus his umbrella, back into the rain to work. I was exhausted. Why hadn't I payed better attention to the "getting home" instructions? I'm hopelessly soaked and ridiculously cold. My hair is literally drip, drip, dripping down my back. Water is collecting on my forehead and, in rivers, running off my nose. I down-loaded a $4 NYC public transit app onto my phone and headed west... or was it south... no, northeast...?... To the nearest subway platform. I am not sure how long it took me to figure out my route once I got back into the city, but I will say I must have appeared to have it all together. More than one lost-looking person asked me for directions. I resisted the urge to confidently send them off on some unknown train to Neverneverland and instead admitted to being just as new to this underground puzzle.

I made it back to Bedford Ave. in Hipster Central without even once boarding the wrong train. I only had about 45,000 more blocks to walk until I reached the bachelor kingdom I'm now calling home. My spirits were high, but my water-logged pants were doing their best to ruin my day...

After a change of clothes and a late evening nap, another rain-pelted adventure to a different fabulous coffee shop, and a whole lot of people watching- I got word that the brother would be reallllllllly late coming home. I was on my own for dinner. Well, no biggie. I knew where that sausage bar is now and I wasn't in the mood for sitting alone at a nice restaurant. At the bar the gorgeous bartender remembered my name and the details of where I'm from/why I'm here. (Let me just say guys, listening is a skill that will get you serious bonus points with the ladies. Oh, and asking meaningful questions too, THAT is a whole blog topic in itself and I feel myself about to digress- I apologize.)

Anywhoooooo, it felt a little like my very own Cheers episode! Mr. Bartender was busy all night, but managed to find a reason to lean my direction, often, to refill my water. Eventually I was joined at the bar by a skinny roofer from Italy. That man-child (yes, I checked his passport, he turned 21 the week before) taught me Italian, I helped him with his English. He looked as much like a roofer as I do a lumberjack. He, not surprisingly, is a "very famous actor- in his country"... NY has fascinating people!

I left the bar in time to introduce myself to the second roommate at the pad. Eventually, as I drifted in and out of sleep, the brother returned. We high-fived and made plans for Saturday... It seems he won't be coming home again until this project is wrapped. Okay with me, I've got places to go and people to meet...

Ahhhhhh, I have so much to tell you! I'm tired now, and it's only Friday... Stay tuned.