Manhattan One Street at a Time... First up: BROADWAY

Last night I passed out reading at 1 AM (only 10 in CA). This is amazingly early for me in the summer, but makes sense considering the only sleep we had gotten was 4 hours or less on the airplane. This morning we got up at 10, took showers, and headed off to the metro stop, which is conveniently located just around the corner. 

We got off at Bryant Park without knowing, so that was a pleasant surprise. It was lunchtime, so it was very crowded and took us a while to find a table to sit at and drink our coffee while I examined a map and tried to figure out how to get to Broadway. Well, I did figure it out, and we set off, only to realize a couple hours later (walking all the way, I might add) that the Theater District is actually north of where we were and not south.

Shit.

We found a metro stop and took it to Rockefeller, which is really close to Broadway. Then we bought tickets to Rent, ate a hot dog (OH MY GOD THEY ARE AS GOOD AS EVERYONE CLAIMS), took a cab from 43rd street to 41st for $3 (don't question us), walked around aimlessly, ate pizza (ALSO JUST AS GOOD AS EVERYONE CLAIMS), and then sat on the steps in front of the Nederlander Theater on 41st for about an hour waiting to be seated for Rent.

We could have done more in the 3 hours between buying the tickets and seeing the show, but after our several mile walk down Broadway earlier in the day, our feet couldn't take it. Let's just say I wore the wrong shoes. Meh. But hey! You know you're in a magical place when burning feet can't ruin anything about the day.

New York City is everything I thought it would be. The buildings are all made of brick or stone. They have amazing windows and even fire escapes (we thought this beautiful building with revolving doors and huge windows was a 5 star hotel, only to discover it was a Macy's. whoa.). Everyone honks, ambulances get stuck in rush hour, street vendors yell, and everyone walks very fast (except tourists) and sometimes people cross the street when they shouldn't.-- Pretty much, even if the red hand is up, if one person steps off the curb, the crowd automatically follows. A car will hit one person, but probably not 15.

A special moment occurred when a foreign woman thought we were locals and asked Patricia where 6th was. (We were already on it). We felt proud.

Creepsters abound, of course. Among the sleazy comments we got were: "I like your legs. They're sexy." "*inhale* ahh....sexy sexy....." et-cetera.

Then on the metro ride back to Queens a Creepo McCreepster started hitting on me. The conversation went something like this:

"Hi, how are you doing?"

"Fine."

"Just get off work?"

"No, just spent the day in the city."

Please, Patricia get me out of this...

"Manhattan?"

"Yep."

Ew ew ew ew ew.

"What's your name?"

"Amy."

We still have 5 more stops till we get off!

"Where do you live? You live here?"

"Yeah. Queens."

"Oh, I live by Queens."

"Mhm."

"Are you going to the Terminal?"

What's the Terminal?

"No."

"Where do you get off?"

No answer.

"I get off at 71st, then I take the R."

"Oh."

Here Patricia chimed in when I looked at her desperately with "Je ne comprend pas." YES. A way out.

"Where are you from? Italy?"

"No."

"Spain?"

"No."

Patricia-"Je ne comprends pas."

"Oui. Je sais."

I then focused all my attention on Patricia as she, looking lost and confused, asked me numerous questions in French and I pretended to explain things to her in French. Of course, we were just using simple phrases over and over, but it worked. Sort of.

Then, "Do you have Myspace?"

"No."

"Facebook?"

"No."

"Email?"

"No. I have a boyfriend, sorry."

"Oh, ok."

Me and Patricia continued our fake French conversation and I thought it was over,

Then, "Just as a friend, can I email you?"

"No."

Finally, our stop! We booked it out of there.

My god.

Other than that, the day was great! Central Park tomorrow, and when my camera and Patricia's camera cord arrive in the mail, pictures will be up. And hopefully videos when I have the energy to upload. There are some really good ones, so get ready. (Thanks Mom and Dad!)

Goodnight, lovelies.

P.S. We are no longer sharing a twin bed. Now you don't have to feel sorry for us.