A bird's still gotta bathe

Feeling satisfied that there were trace amounts of poo in the pipes of the theatre's sink, I made my way to Battery Park.

Battery Park is at the southern most tip of Manhattan. There are several monuments and lots of green space. I'd heard of it, but never been.

I wandered around for a bit, and it wasn't before long before I came across this:

Leave it to me to come all the way to New York to sit and watch some birds. But really, it was one of the most memorable moments of my day. When people saw that I had stopped to watch them, they stopped to watch them, too. Amidst all the hustle and bustle, a bird's still gotta bathe.

Leave it to me to find this next:

Yes, a turkey, schritching around for some grub.

I left the birds behind for more adventures. On my list of things to do in New York were get on the water and get above the water. The Staten Island Ferry is free you, say? Ok! On the water!

the pier by ferry

on the harbor

everyone scrabbles to one side of the ferry sardine-style to see her

there she is!

Now for above the water...

PAWF!

Technology has greatly advanced since I was last in New York 3 years ago. Many of the subway trains have been outfitted with an electronic tracker that displays the next 10 stops, and there is an iPhone app called HopStop what provides precise walking/subway directions. This saved me a lot of time and brain space and looking like a lost tourist.

This turned out to be my only full day without rain on the trip, so I'm glad I spent it out and about on foot. I had bought a ticket to a Fringe show before my trip, and after a lovely brunch with Michelle and her boyfriend John, I HopStopped it over to the East Village for the show. Time was tight, but I knew that with HopStop on my side, I would skip right over. I got out of the subway station, got my bearings, and headed off. I was looking down at my phone to confirm that I was going in the right direction when PAWF! My right foot had found something warm and custardy. And brown. I howled an expletive (you can do that in New York) when I looked down and saw my toes (I only packed sandals, if you'll recall) covered in fresh and creamy dog poo.

A nearby construction worker offered me a paper towel.

"I saw the lady who left that," he said.

I'm assuming her dog left it, but I knew what he meant.

"Well, she'll get hers," I said. "Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but she'll get it."

"Yeah," he said. "She will."

He suggested that I could go into the pizza shop across the street to clean up more.

Into the pizza shop. Which of course didn't have a bathroom. When I explained what I stepped in, the guy said I could come behind the counter and use the sink. So there I was, behind the food counter, where food is prepared, near food, removing my sandal, touching the faucet, washing off my foot and hands, and did I mention that I was behind the food counter? This couldn't have been sanitary.

I finished up and raced towards to theatre. I was 6 minutes late. That's about how long it takes to step in a pile, discuss the principles of karma with a construction guy, and violate sanitary codes in Vinny's Pizza. It's Fringe policy not to admit latecomers. I couldn't see the show.

"I'm late because I stepped in a pile of dog *@%#."

The box office does not make exceptions for poo encounters. Not even a look of sympathy from the box office.

I stewed in the lobby. I silently cursed the woman and her runny-butt dog. Then I went into the theatre's bathroom and gave my sandal another rub down for good measure. Back to the lobby for more silent cursing. This time the box office got it.

Then I took a breath.

I started to wonder if I had left any piles for other people to step in.

I decided not to to let the Pile of 2010 ruin this otherwise perfect New York day. I had plenty of other things I wanted to do. But what about the money I had already spent on the ticket, a cornerstone argument in my silent rant? My donation to the arts that day, I decided.

HopStop and I were off on other adventures...

My pleasure

This year on Father's Day, Dad sent Christina and me a gift. Each of us got a check with specific instructions. Mine were to use the money for my personal pleasure. Of course I was tempted to doing something practical like put in into savings. As smart as that sounded, it did not seem pleasurable. I thought about new clothes or taking some kind of class. What really sounded pleasurable was getting out of LA for bit. New scenery, old friends. Voila! New York.

Checking baggage did not sound pleasurable. I endeavored to pack everything into a backpack and purse for my 5 day trip. As it was August, and not, say, January, I was able to do this with room to spare. Mom wanted to know what on Earth I packed, so here 'tis:

1 pair sandals

1 pair jeans

1 dress

1 skirt

1 over shirt

6 tank tops

2 scarves

undies

jewelry

Next time, I'm bringing one more pair of shoes :)

My first night there, I met up with Jenn, a friend from grad school. We had dinner at a dynamite vegetarian restaurant near Union Square.

Jenn & my trusty backpack

Then I joined my friend Michelle and some of her friends at a secret bar on Restaurant Row. It's a secret because there is no sign or advertisement for it--you just have to know it's there. The place is small and cozy; you'd think it was someone's apartment if you didn't know better. Sean Hayes knows better, and he sat at the table across from us.

I stayed with Michelle in Astoria that night, and slept like a rock. Good thing, because the next day I would walk countless miles...

Bullseye!

Zach took me on a surprise trip to an archery range on Saturday. Not every girl's cup of tea, I'm sure, but I loved it. I used to do target practice with my dad in the backyard, oh, about 20 years ago, so I had a lot of brushing up to do.

There was a mandatory safety and technique class. Here Zach demonstrates proper form as he takes aim.

Once you've taken the class, you can come back any weekend for free. Think I'll have to go again!