How's That Again?: Is This How It Ends?

I took today off from work. It was my 29thish birthday, again, and I decided to set up at a table at my local coffee shop to finish telling you my tale. This is a place that I possess a love/hate relationship with and all of the usual suspects are here... I'm not sure why, but I've seen these same people day after day for months and yet have been unable to have a conversation with them. I made an attempt to chat with one of God's most beautifully created male specimens here a few months ago, but as it turns out he's engaged to a 18 year old (? I'm guessing here...) diva princess. Of course he is. So, I mostly sit silently sipping my almond/marshmallow/cinnamon, quad shot latte, watching and wondering about these people's lives...

If you've missed the story up to now, catch up here and here- I'm well into the early hours of Monday morning already...

Monday

Because the sun was yawning and stretching and showing off her bright golden halo over the horizon as my brother and I slipped into bed, we missed having an early morning case of the Monday's. We, as a society, should really consider starting every Monday hopscotching and swinging before sunrise. Consider it, will you?

Sometime after 1:00 the brother and I grabbed our cameras and a coffee and headed west toward the Williamsburg bridge. The day was perfectly warm with a light breeze. The sun decided to shine-bright-like-a-diamond on the water, reflecting off the skyline of Manhattan. (If you don't now have that song stuck in your head, like me, you're missing out...) Meandering through the blocks of Hipster Central, the brother and I stumbled upon some fabulous graffiti, perfectly lit metal artwork, delightfully unique people... we shot everything. Our favorite location was the backside of a brick bistro. There were garbage cans and cardboard littering the sidewalk in front of the most fantastic American flag mural. We moved the trash, apologized to the Italian man that came to chase us away, and stayed anyway. We spent and embarrassing amount of time on this wall. Eventually, I got the courage to ask a waiter, who had stepped out for a smoke break, to take our picture together... When it seemed we had well outstayed our welcome, we replaced the trash bins and cardboard then moved on...

Next we took the train across the Williamsburg bridge to catch a new view. We took reflection shots, motion shots, skyline shots, each other shots. We acted like we were that train's only passengers and people tolerated us. Once in Manhattan we headed for Central Park. Trump Tower, St. Patrick's Cathedral, cherry blossoms, stone bridges, kickball games, lakes... nothing missed our fine-tooth combing lens'. Eventually my battery died, the sun set and the temperature dropped. We stayed. The brother has an incredible eye, ridiculous equipment, and we had night shots to capture. Finally my wimpy girliness won out and we made our way to yet another Starbucks to warm up and recharge.

From the warmth of our cozy coffee shop chairs we planned our next move. The night was still young and we were hungry. I had yet to meet the brother's gorgeous girlfriend. We chose a classy French restaurant and were quickly seated. At the mercy of our sweet waitress, we ordered a perfect bottle of red and several appetizers. Things were perfect. Almost. As soon as we started sipping the $64 bottle I knew it was about to get awkward.

My whole childhood I was plagued with daily nose bleeds. As a teen I even had surgery to fix the issue. As an adult they are less frequent and usually associated with climate or stress. Since landing in New York I had dealt with the issue every morning. Obviously stress was not an issue, sooooo I'm blaming air pressure or something equally lame.

Anywooooooo, I spent the next 45 minutes gushing in the most beautiful bathroom, in the classiest location of my vacation. Furthermore, I had literally only spoken to this gorgeous girl, that is important to my brother, for a whole 15 minutes. I had no cell coverage to let them know what was up. Agghhhhhh, great first impression Collene! The worst part is that we all knew she had only about an hour before she had to get home for a deadline. I rejoined the table as she was saying good-bye...

By the time the brother and I savored the remainder of the red and mosied our way to the subway, it was nearing midnight. Neither of us were ready for Bachelor Kingdom by the time we reached Brooklyn so we dropped of the massive lens' and camera and headed back out. Armed with only my camera/phone we made our way along Bedford Ave, this time on the far side of the street. I had not even begun to scratch the surface of unique businesses here and my brother was eager to show me more of his places...

We settled in at a turn of the century themed oyster bar. The decor was flawless, the staff impeccably dressed, the menu absolutely perfect. We started with juleps and chatted up the mixologist and his barback. They were knowledgeable professional and kind. This place could be dangerous! The sippers are smooth, maybe too smooth. The atmosphere is fun, but refined. The men are dapper. Sixty dollars got us each two beverages- well worth every cent. In unrelated news, I can see why everyone walks everywhere around here...

Tuesday

Once again the bottle sorting in the alley woke me up. Because the view from the window in the guest wing of Bachelor Kingdom allows little to no daylight in, I had no idea what time of day it was, nor what the weather would be. By the time I mustered up the energy to put my feet to work again, it was late morning. I haven't slept in like this since... well, high school? It feels guilty and fabulous. I made enough noise to make sleeping impossible for the brother- this was my last full day here and I had already wasted almost half of it!

We chose a new place for brunch. Our waiter was eager and extremely attentive. I like that. Over coffee, mimosas, eggs and biscuits we people-watched from our corner window booth. Weekdays are bustling on the streets of Williamsburg. Who are these people? Where are they going? There were a dozen firemen in their dress blues crossing the street out my window. There were beards and mustaches galore. The tall ginger man and his messy bearded side-kick that just sat down across from us have to be musicians, we decided. We high-fived each other as we overheard them discussing sound-checks. I know for a fact that we are not sitting behind a one-way mirrored window, so I have no idea how to explain the elderly man that stood for literally 45-50 seconds, shading his eyes, as he peered at our table from outside. We could not stop giggling. I think it was my snapping a picture of him that broke his gaze and sent him on his way.

As we left the cafe, we passed a "girlie" boutique. Earlier in the week the window display had caught my eye. "That dress is fantastic!" I had exclaimed on that day. Today my brother asked, "aren't you going to at least go in and look at that?" Uh, okay! As I browsed clothing and jewelry I suddenly realized, he's a dude. Dudes are not patient when it comes to this stuff. I apologized for being selfish and said we should leave. "Nope, shop," he replied, "I have nothing to do but be with you today." Wow. That literally is the first time I've ever heard those words cross the lips of a man. My little brother is quite a catch. I bought myself a token ring to remind me of my time in Hipster Central and bought my daughter a gift too... we continued on.

Over brunch we had decided we needed to be more organized with our touring today. There were specific places we wanted to shoot- the light had been wrong yesterday and there were still locations unseen. Again we hopped a train into Manhattan. Central Park would dominate our day, but we would shoot Grand Central Station, the Chrysler Building, Washington Square Park, a boathouse... Oh, and canolis, there would be amazing canolis and coffee, New York style pizza and hot dogs from a cart...

For hours we silently, together, wandered. Individually we worked, framing both the macro and the micro things that caught our eye. "Ooooooh, look!" I would point. "I LOVE leading lines," he would reply. "Even better is softly lit leading lines," he would laugh as he directed me towards a row of benches. More than once, one of us caught the other rolling around on the ground to get the perfect angle... We bobbed and weaved our way, criss-crossing the city. Taxis, musicians, flowers, carriages, water, boats, a Tuesday wedding (It's not so weird, mine was on a Tuesday too...), clouds, reflections, buildings, panoramas... We shot. It. All.

Today was different than the other days in Manhattan. The Boston Marathon had just been bombed and the police presence had been majorly stepped up. Every major intersection, subway platform and landmark building had teams of police milling around. That part of life seemed surreal. We had been very disconnected from the news for days. It wasn't until I returned to Montana that I really understood what had happened. Crowds of people simply do not exist where I live. Blissfully, I was ignorant enough not to fear the threat.

As the day turned into early evening my brother's girlfriend called with a plan. Thoughtfully, she knew my feet and legs were absolutely aching, so she booked us all massages. Furthermore, she knew that I had wanted to see a comedy show- she did some research and had a plan. Would we meet her in Chinatown? The twisting of my arm was nearly unbearable... The answer in a case like this, is always YES!!!

The brother and I cut our itinerary short and worked our way toward the narrowing, uneven streets of Chinatown. The address we had been given looked iffy. The spa was apparently located through a narrow, littered hall and up the steep, peeling stairs. I wonder what kind of massage we ordered. Well, what's the worst that can happen, right? The brother and I did a shot of coffee with a piece Chinese cake in the shop below before heading up. As we reached the landing at the top of the stairs, we turned to see the cutest, coziest little spa! I think both of us finally exhaled. We would wait for the rest of our party there, while uncomfortably answering Chineglish questions to the best of our ignorant ability. I had no idea what we ordered before it all started, but it turned out to be a 90 minute-ish hot rock massage. FABULOUS.

We finished our green tea, got our bearings and headed to the Lower East Side for our next adventure. Every Tuesday night the Slipper Room hosts Seth Herzog's "Sweet". Seth writes for Jimmy Fallon and uses his show, Sweet, as a dry run/comedian hang-out/talent search. The show is flexibly booked- comedians may be added to the line-up minutes before going on stage. The cost? Seven whole dollars.

As we climbed the creaking, narrow stairs, it became obvious that there would be little room inside the club. There was a tiny balcony and less than a dozen small tables on the main floor. If you're late, you might find a place to stand at the back of the room. We easily found a table and chatted as we waited for the show to start.

My brother and I have developed a new game over the course of the day. I think it's called "Find Collene a Boyfriend". It has gotten downright ridiculous as the day has progressed, but I am amused by my brother's interest in "my type". He's actually getting very good and picking them, although he's not incredibly discrete. Have I mentioned yet: New York is the land of the beautiful people. Seriously, even the "average" looking people are beautiful, unique, put together- not in a snobby kind of way, just in a "I still care" kind of way.

As we waited for the show to start, my brother started checking out the men in the room. He'd elbow me and ask about this one or that one... Now there were two men standing to the left of the stage. "Which one would you take home Collene?" he asked. "Ummmmmm, both," I joked. I'm not sure if they were reading lips or what, but the one on the right was definitely starring at me. I didn't bother to look away, so he winked. I started smiling, so he did. Then I laughed. He laughed and half-waved then turned away and went back stage. As my brother and I giggled about the exchange I told him that I'd probably have to pick the guy on the left instead... The brother's girlfriend joins the discussion: "That's the guy!" she says. He's the host. "Wellllll, he's mine tonight," I joked. I'm not sure my brother's girlfriend knows when I'm joking, but she'll learn... I hope!

Anywhooooooo, the curtain goes up. Sure enough, the guys by the stage are Seth and his pal, the winker, Josh Charles (from The Good Wife on CBS). Seth introduces the line-up tonight: Josh Charles, Mike Doughty (Indie Rock Musician/Writer), Kate McKinnon (SNL), Zach Galifianakis (The Hangover), Tom Shillue (Comedy Central), Jordan Carlos (The Colbert Report), and Sean Patton (Comedy Central). Oh, and his own mom, Kera, too!

We. Laughed.

I laughed and slobbered and snorted and cried. My abs may still be sore. I'm not a pretty laugher any more than I'm a pretty crier...

After the show, we took turns in the restroom. As I waited for us to regather our group, Mrs. H walked by. During her set she had made some comments about her hair and the current hair trends she's been seeing. I was dying through her whole set- she's freaking hilarious... but I was the only one laughing a time or two, and they knew it. Sooo, I took a minute to tell her how much I loved her set. She was dang cute. Somehow my comments turned into a full on hair consultation right there in the back of the Slipper Room.

As we spoke Sean wandered over. He asked me a few questions about where I'm from, I commented on a few of his jokes, he bought me a beer. Now my brother has rejoined the group, as well as two men from the audience. They kept trying to talk to Sean, but he kept his answers short and directed his attention to the brother and I, with Mrs. H joining in the conversation too. Eventually Seth moved over to our group. He told his mom he had called her a car and it was time for her to leave. She thanked me for my advice and left. Now our group is fully assembled, the two audience men have left and Seth is looking to us for where to go next.

"Wellllllllllllll, you guys decide, I'm in," I told them. Sadly the brother's girlfriend had to get home, so Seth, Sean, the brother and I headed out to the street to figure out a plan and let Sean take a smoke break. As we stood there making decisions a black SUV pulled up next to us, let out its passenger and sat there idling. The driver had his window down and was becoming irritated with a taxi that had stopped in the middle of the street in front of him. He shouted something racist at the men in the cab and included the word "bomb". THAT was a bad decision. Simultaneously all four doors of the taxi opened and out stepped four of the biggest men I've ever seen in person. They just so happened to be undercover NYPD officers. The had the guy out of his vehicle and up against the building before I could blink. Then they proceeded to dismantle the SUV. Our little group was roughly 10 feet away, soooooo I took a few discreet pictures. After the officers hopped back in their cab and left, we headed to a nearby arcade bar.

I really have no way to accurately describe the conversations that ensued over games of Pac-man and Frogger. Two professional comedians, my little brother, and me. What happened next, I will not likely forget: Somehow we got on the topic of me dating. I mayyyyy have told them, jokingly, that I plan to write a how-not-to book and base a chapter on each of the failures I've dated since my divorce. (As a side note, my book will be very short, but verrrrrry entertaining). As I told horror stories these two guys were rolling. Apparently, I've "arrived" and can die satisfied now that I've been on a date with the guy that BOTH Letterman and Leno used in their monologues. Oh, good. That's a relief. But, it sure felt good to make them laugh. We wrapped up the dating conversation by turning our attention to my brother and his girlfriend. Seth is incredulous, "Why is a woman that hot dating you?" he asked. My brother laughed and told them he constantly asks himself the same thing. I see why... my brother is amazing.

At the arcade Seth asked for my business card. He would be bringing his mom by for her new style he said. He had assumed I was a stylist on set somewhere and was confused as to how we even found the comedy show when I told him I wasn't. I have no idea, but give him my card anyway- because you just never know when Mrs. H would have a desire to visit MT. He didn't stop there, she's obviously going to need my email address too- she can't text. As I re-zipped my purse, Sean pretended to be offended. "How come Seth gets your number and I don't?" I obliged and we finished our beverages.

We managed to close the arcade down and were back on the street in search of the next adventure when Seth decided to head home. In dramatic, goof-ball, NYC style he grabbed me by the waist and said "baby, I gotta go" and kissed me- before I even turned all the way toward him. He waved and jumped in the cab, leaving us all giggling on the corner.

Next we headed to a quieter club with a cozy window booth down the street. As we walked in we all recognized the two audience men from the Slipper Room that had tried to strike up a conversation with Sean after the show. They invited us to join them, we happily obliged. As it turned out, both were in the industry- one being a director who seemed very interested in my little brother's cinematography. Information was exchanged and I sat listening as these four men discussed pitching show ideas to networks in L.A. Actually, although our conversation was goofy and loud, they've got some great ideas... I can't wait to see what comes of them.

I had spent the last hour or so quietly taking pictures and editing while Sean interrupted his conversation with the guys to flirt with me in a ridiculous over-the-top way. I have never had that many hours in a row of such hilarity and laughter. I was exhausted, my phone battery was almost dead- I switched it to airplane mode to preserve what little life it had, and I was conscious of the fact that I had to be at the airport in five hours. After "last call" we spent another half-hour on the sidewalk wrapping up conversations. Sean was determined to get the brother and I home safely, so he grabbed a cab for us and we all headed to Brooklyn.

As the cab drove away I reached in the outside pocket of my purse for my phone to check the time. Not there. Weird, it's where I keep it. I checked pockets, nope. Inside zippers of my purse... NO! I left it, along with over 3,000 pictures, in that cab. My heart is siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiick. My flight information is on that phone. My alarm clock is on that phone. I. AM. SICK. I beg my brother to get it back, knowing he can't- at least not at this hour.

Morning doesn't make anything better. In a panic, I pack the 45,000 pounds of hair show stuff- in the checked luggage bags, of course. It seems that TSA is still not keen on us carrying on precisely sharpened, miniature, hinged, ninja swords- no matter how much they cost or how convincing we are that they're just for haircuts. They're also not super amped about containers of aldehydes being stuffed under the seat in front of us- even if our trays remain in the upright and locked position during take-off. I'm frazzled. I have the nagging feeling I'm forgetting or overlooking something MAJOR. Oh, yeah, I am. My phone, and its 1,076 business and personal contacts. My 7,000, give or take a few, music choices. Don't underestimate the loss of my love, Google. I no longer have reading materials, reminders, schedules.... pictures- 3,000 from this week alone.

I will tell you the rest of the story later. I'm tired now, and a little sad. The pictures I have shared with you up to this point are the only ones that I have now. Thanks to Instagram, the ability to take a screen shot, and an app that lets me crop out the nonsense- I have tried to salvage them. Also, I have great friends- who re-texted me photos I had sent throughout the week.

Today my amazing little brother sent me a couple hundred of the pictures he took with his camera on these two days. He invited me to share a few with you. Some are raw/unedited, but you get the drift: It was an amazing, irreplaceable, perfect vacation. It may take a few days, but I'll likely feel compelled to share more of his work...

Playing around with, but not quite mastering, backlit shooting.

My Hipster Central token ring

Getting his shot.

Shooting the shooter

He's #nevergoingtocallback

Shooting strangers is almost never awkward. Nope, I'm a liar. This guy was a good sport and he took one of us.

The view from my bed, were all the bottle sorting was carried out.

Possibly our favorite Monday photo shoot location

Our favorite Tuesday shoot. Somehow people thought we were legit. We had hopped a fence and shot with confidence, as if we belonged there... A small crowd gathered. A couple of men offered their dog for the shoot. Absolutely the most ridiculous hour of the week!

We easily spent 45 minutes at this tree. There was a domestic disturbance issue unfolding a few feet from us the entire time. I am very easily entertained.