May 2007
Four
years ago, one of my clients, promised me that when she got her master's
degree, she would bring me to the East Coast to attend her graduation. I
had very much enjoyed working with her, as well as with her mother, who
needed a copy editor for a couple of books she was writing.
Because there are no good flight connections from Fargo to
New York City, I arrived at La Guardia on Saturday afternoon, which gave
me an extra day in town, since the graduation festivities didn't begin
until Sunday afternoon. The Michelangelo Hotel in downtown Manhattan is
a few blocks from Rockefeller Center, where the Sunday evening
"desserts, drinks, and dancing" were to take place, and a few
doors down from Ruth's Chris Steak House, site of Monday's final
reception and luncheon before everyone headed home.
The driver
was standing, as I'd been told he would be, at the entrance to the the airport's baggage claims area, holding a
sign with my name on it. I
enjoyed visiting with him during the drive to the hotel. Very nice
man! The plane landed at about 2:30 in the afternoon, and I was at the hotel an hour later.
I had time, once I'd checked in at the hotel, to unpack,
take a shower, and settle in for a nap before supper. A
writer and Internet acquaintance had volunteered to have supper with me
at her favorite Greek restaurant. I recognized her when she walked in
the lobby door, which pleased me. I truly appreciate her choosing for
me, since I am unfamiliar with Greek food. We went to Molyvos Restaurant, where I had avgolemono soup,
yuvetsi (lamb stewed in a red pot, with tomatoes and orzo), and, for dessert, baklava.
She ordered saganaki, which, to her delight, was brought flaming
to the table, lamb chops, Greek coffee, and retsina (a Greek wine).
My husband had spent the previous evening searching Fargo-Moorhead
bookstores for a copy of a recent book of hers, since we had loaned
our copy to a friend, so that I could ask for an autograph. The search
took him all evening, and I am sure he got the last unsold copy in two
towns.
One thing that strikes me again about meeting and visiting with writer folk I have met through SFF Net (and similar spots on the Internet) is that they are so familiar to me when I meet them face to face. Another is that the conversations are so absorbing, it is hard to bring them to a close. There is never enough time.
On Sunday morning, I set out for Central Park. Found some
good coffee along the way, which was one of the things that the hotel was
lacking. I should add, here, that I have respiratory allergies
(in addition to food prohibitions) and fragrance/chemical sensitivities.
My wanderings in the park were not so extensive as I'd planned on. Tree
pollen, combined with the fumes of the previous day's plane ride, left
me with breathing problems. I did spend about 45 minutes, though,
walking the paths and taking photos--not necessarily "New York" photos,
but scenes that struck me. Buildings seen through the tree branches,
folks sitting on the rocks, lots of distance between one another, the
foot bridges . . . and I took some shots of people walking along the
streets and the horse-drawn carriages, even though I was not up to
taking a ride in one at that point. I am determined to return, though,
someday, and get that carriage ride.
Back at the hotel, having changed from t-shirt, blue jeans, and
moccasins into "proper" attire, I met Mo and her husband and assorted
family members in the lobby, including her mother, for whom I had done
some editing. Having seen so many of their family photos over the
years, I felt as though I knew many of them. It was nice. Felt
comfortable.
That was an odd thing about not just meeting Mo's family and friends,
but also visiting with my Internet acquaintance, walking through the streets,
traveling: It all felt so comfortable, as though I had been going
places and doing such things all my life, rather than mostly living
between these four walls, seldom going out of our yard except for
Meeting and for storm spotting.
Anyway, we took motor coaches to the Hilton at Newark Airport,
where the graduation ceremony and celebratory dinner were held. Best
guess on the meal: green salad, petit filet mignon, carrots, a couple
of broiled shrimp, and grilled potato wedges. Very, very nice! I
looked longingly at the dessert, but did not indulge.
We went from there to the Rockefeller Center, where there were drinks,
dancing, lots of visiting, and much time spent looking out the windows
at NYC at night. I did take one photo, and I danced for the first time
in over 30 years. For long enough to get more people out onto the
dance floor, anyway. The view was fantastic, and the desserts--I have
never spent so much time quietly lamenting my allergy to wheat! Having
cheated on my diet while out on Saturday evening, I dared not do so again so
soon, which was just as well, considering the calorie count.
On Monday, there wasn't much time. I found a street vendor
and bought fruit for breakfast, and then packed and checked out of the
hotel. Lunch at Ruth's Chris Steak House. Petit filet mignon, again; dry salad (being very careful of what I
ate); asparagus and broccoli; and a flourless chocolate cake with
strawberry sauce. Very tasty! There was a lot of good food on this trip.
The doorman at the hotel let me know that my car was waiting, 15 minutes
before I had been told to expect it. Turns out that there had been a
miscommunication with the service, and either he or the event
coordinator was given the wrong pick-up time.
I really
could get used to being treated with such courtesy by "customer
service" people as I experienced with the doorman and the car-service driver (both of
the drivers, actually). Everyone was helpful and friendly. The drive to
the airport took longer than the drive into Manhattan, thanks, I
suppose, to workday traffic, but that was not a problem, because I was
enjoying the conversation. I felt so very well taken care of!
The trip back was relatively calm, other than our getting off the ground at
LaGuardia over an hour late, which meant that I had to run to make my
connection in Minneapolis. It had been raining, there, and the walkway from the plane into
the terminal did not seal, so there was dripping water to get through.
I had barely enough time to call Al, once I'd
boarded the flight to Fargo, to tell him that he should meet the
plane, before I had to switch it off, again, for take-off.
Spent all the next day doing laundry and napping. Al took the dry cleaning
with him at noon. By the day after, I was ready to do the whole thing
over again. If only I could!
Liz