New York City is all about sex. People getting it, people trying to get it, people who can't get it. No wonder the city never sleeps. It's too busy trying to get laid.
The trip begins with four of us (Bernie Toale, Dennis Duffy, Tom, and I) boarding America's best train at some ungodly hour. Upon arriving to New York City, we were greeted in the Soho Grand by a strikingly female yet fashionable boy who stares at us as we check in. Within the first hour of being on the island, we are in an art gallery. (My trips seem to happen like this). For the next two days and even a little on Saturday, we walked into every contemporary art gallery in Chelsea. A lot of the art was impressive. The New York scene is totally different and every time I go I am sadly reminded of this. The first dinner with the four of us was a fantastic little French restaurant where we sat outside in their garden and drank 5 bottles of wine. French speaking waiters. Enough said. On the walk home, I had my palm read along with everyone else by a drag queen/diva/palmreader. She was incredibly accurate but that is another blog. Tom desperately needed to go to the bathroom right before we walked past Stonewall, so Bernie takes him into some random Chelsea bistro and distracts the waiters as he waves Tom to the bathrooms. She was incredibly accurate but that story is another blog. Tom and I were then given a gay history tour of the Village and Chelsea by Dennis and Bernie who lived there in the 70's-80's. For the first time ever, a boy that I was cruising on the very drunken walk in the rain home, turned around, stopped, and then waved. Why I chose to do nothing, is beyond me.
Our second dinner was with Greg and Tom's boyfriend Eric who came on Friday and stayed for the rest of the weekend. (See Pics). It was at Tao. A restaurant that had a brief moment in Sex and the City. It was unbelievable. Jazz players playing to the lounge music spun by the DJ, a huge 2 story Buddha above the diners, enough security to protect the White House, and a hott crowd. It was followed by a bar crawl through the East Village to a place called Opium and Starlight. Both were fun for the punky hot New York crowd. For some reason though, I felt for the entire weekend, that I didn't want to go anywhere near a gay bar so once I got there, I was almost already done.
Saturday, my 23rd birthday, was spent lounging around, eating a great breakfast, shopping some more (Lounge in Soho is unbelievable. My future boyfriend works there or one of the 14 I found that weekend. Even Jerry bought clothing), visiting some more art galleries, (Tom bought this photo piece, titled Hong Kong, from a series called Neon Tigers) running into Boston boys (gag) and then going to our third dinner. My birthday one, was where I found out I wasn't worth a $4500.00 bottle of wine in some conservative but tasty French place. For dessert, Goat cheese souffle with basil. For the first time I remember, I wasn't depressed on my birthday. Which, in itself, is a pretty good birthday present. My lil sister called me to wish me a happy birthday.
On Sunday, after a solo walk to Dean and Deluca through Soho, we decided to try waiting in line for lottery tickets to see Wicked, the musical. About 300 or so people showed up for 25 tickets and when they called out names, it just so happened, that mine was called! I was thrilled yet the next 2 hours turned into a big debate/argument about who I wanted to go with me. The funny thing is; is that before I heard my name called out, I said to the boys, "I have a better chance of seeing Justin around me than winning these." The show was amazing from a production point. It was artistically beautiful and funny but it was light and fluffy unlike the book which said a lot about society and the world. The fourth dinner was at Nobu. (See pics). One of the best restaurants in the country. It was incredible. And that was the restaurant, not the hot as fuck waiter. The only thing on the table in the beginning was a black volcanic rock and chopsticks. A trip to XL showed us how someone steals a bike followed by a chowing down of an entire bag of cheese puffs. Ha Ha!
On our last day in the big apple, we decided to stroll through some Chelsea stores where anything from wine glasses to lube can be found. We decided to eat in funky restaurant called Rocking Horse where a couple was sitting on the side of us with there dog. It just so happens that this couple leaves without there dog. Once the waiters realize it, one screams out, "Sir, do you want your dog?" It was a riot. We then headed to Penn Station to wait for our train home. This was an out of control experience since as soon as the train gets a station number, everyone makes a mad dash for it. So basically, you need to throw old women out of the way, slice open throats of others, and hope that you can even get a seat somewhere on the train which is already packed with people from D.C. But in the end you get to experience Freak Monkey and is antics
Upon arriving to Boston, the streets looked like there was a nuclear holocaust. No joke. I think I saw one person on my entire walk home from the train station. It was a quick realization that I was no longer in Boston and now 23 years old.
