Day Two in New York City, and I’m pleased to report that we’re beginning to settle into life as sophisticated Manhattanites.
Well, sort of.
We started our morning wandering through Midtown, grabbed some coffee and New York bagels, and found ourselves a spot in Bryant Park to enjoy breakfast.
And what a wonderful little oasis it is.
There’s something magical about parks in enormous cities. Just steps away, thousands of people are rushing to work, taxis are honking, delivery trucks are blocking traffic, and the general madness of Manhattan continues at full volume. Yet somehow, you find a little table beneath the trees, sit down with your coffee, and the whole world seems to turn down its volume.
Not off, mind you. This is New York. But perhaps from eleven to a respectable six.
I could have sat there all morning watching the world go by. Unfortunately, we had an entire city to explore, and apparently New York wasn’t going to see itself.
Our next stop was the magnificent New York Public Library.
Now, when I think of a library, I generally picture people quietly reading, studying, or trying to figure out how to use the printer. This place is something else entirely. It’s less a library and more a palace that happens to contain books.
Grand staircases, marble everywhere, enormous ceilings, and enough architectural detail to make you wonder whether anyone actually gets any reading done.
We even got to see the original Winnie-the-Pooh and his friends, which was a delightful surprise.
Of course, being inside such a magnificent building, my mind immediately wandered to the movie The Day After Tomorrow, where everyone takes refuge in the library as New York freezes over.
I found myself looking around, mentally deciding which room I’d claim and which pieces of furniture we’d eventually have to burn to stay warm.
Probably best not to share those thoughts with the librarians.
By the time we emerged, it had started raining.
Now, we’re from Seattle. Rain doesn’t frighten us. We practically have gills. A few drops of water weren’t going to derail our New York adventure.
Although I will say that rain in Manhattan has a unique feature: the drops falling from the tops of skyscrapers seem to have several stories to gather momentum before hitting you. One landed on my head with enough force that I briefly wondered whether someone had dropped a water balloon from the Empire State Building.
So we decided to seek shelter somewhere sensible.
Naturally, we chose the former private library of one of the richest men in American history.
The Morgan Library & Museum.
Good Lord.
If you’ve ever wondered what you can accomplish when you have more money than several small countries, this is an excellent place to start.
The rooms are extraordinary. Elaborately painted ceilings, richly decorated walls, magnificent bookshelves, priceless manuscripts, and enough gold detailing to make Versailles feel slightly underdressed.
And this was someone’s PRIVATE LIBRARY.
Meanwhile, back home, Matt and I are still working on making our house look like people actually live there rather than two men who moved in six years ago and haven’t finished unpacking.
But I found the visit tremendously inspiring.
I’ve decided we need to make a few modest decorating improvements.
First, I’m going to commission marble busts of Matt and me. Nothing ostentatious. Just a couple of tasteful sculptures to remind visitors of the distinguished gentlemen who reside there.
Then, of course, we’ll need a life-size oil painting of me to hang over the fireplace.
Perhaps something regal. A dramatic pose. One hand resting on a globe, the other holding a glass of wine. A faithful Darby at my feet.
Matt can have a smaller portrait somewhere in the hallway.
I’m sure he’ll understand.
Feeling sufficiently cultured and financially inadequate, we continued on to Grand Central Terminal.
And yes, it really is as grand as you imagine.
That enormous main concourse, the beautiful celestial ceiling, the grand staircases, and thousands of people streaming through in every direction. It’s one of those places you’ve seen in countless movies, yet standing there in person still manages to take your breath away.
There’s something about Grand Central that makes you feel like you’re standing at the center of the universe.
Although I know a few people who manage to feel that way regardless of where they’re standing.
From there, we made our way to St. Patrick’s Cathedral.
Absolutely magnificent.
I’ve visited some impressive churches and cathedrals around the world, but I don’t know that I’ve ever been inside one quite this enormous. The soaring ceilings, towering columns, stained glass, and intricate stonework are breathtaking.
Mass was underway while we were there, which made the experience even more interesting.
There were people quietly praying, a priest conducting the service, and hundreds of tourists wandering around taking pictures of absolutely everything.
I suppose when your church is one of the biggest attractions in New York City, you just learn to carry on while someone photographs the ceiling above your head.
Maybe the hope is that somewhere between the selfies and the sightseeing, a little spirituality manages to sneak in.
Directly across the street was Rockefeller Center.
Now, I need to discuss something.
Every Christmas, millions of us gather around our televisions to watch the lighting of the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree. There are celebrities, musical performances, enormous crowds, and sweeping camera shots that make the whole place look like the grandest public square on Earth.
Well.
I have news.
It’s tiny.
Not tiny tiny, but certainly not the vast winter wonderland television has led me to believe.
The famous skating rink? I swear it’s barely bigger than an Olympic-size swimming pool. Those television cameras deserve an Emmy for making the place look like it could host the Winter Olympics.
Don’t get me wrong. Rockefeller Center is beautiful. I absolutely love the Art Deco architecture, the sculptures, the details, and the elegance of the entire complex.
But apparently, television has been catfishing me every Christmas for decades.
We wandered through the buildings and passageways, and I kept my eyes peeled for a celebrity sighting.
Rachel Maddow? Jimmy Fallon? Anyone?
Nothing.
In my imagination, Rachel was out on the skating rink practicing a quadruple axel before heading upstairs to deliver a brilliant political analysis.
Sadly, there was no Rachel, no Jimmy, and no quadruple axel.
Frankly, disappointing.
We continued up Fifth Avenue, where Matt finally got his chance to visit Uniqlo.
Now, if you’ve ever watched a child enter a candy store, you have a pretty good idea of what Matt looks like walking into Uniqlo.
He was in heaven.
Unfortunately, the prices were decidedly less heavenly than what we’d experienced in Tokyo. Apparently, the exchange rate doesn’t work quite as nicely when you’re shopping in Manhattan.
But he did find himself a new jacket, so the expedition was declared a success.
Further along Fifth Avenue, we passed Trump Tower, and right next door was the Louis Vuitton building, currently wrapped to look like an enormous stack of suitcases.
Naturally, my first thought was that Melania had finally packed her bags.
It’s quite a lot of luggage, but I suppose when you’ve accumulated that many designer handbags, you need somewhere to put them.
We continued on to the Plaza Hotel, another New York landmark that feels instantly familiar even if you’ve never set foot in the city.
Of course, we had to take pictures.
Home Alone 2 is one of my brother’s favorite movies, and I couldn’t possibly visit the Plaza without documenting the scene of Kevin McCallister’s rather extravagant unauthorized hotel stay.
Although, given what hotel rooms cost in Manhattan these days, I suspect Kevin’s father is still paying off that credit card bill.
Finally, we made our way into Central Park for a little taste of New York’s most famous green space.
And once again, I was struck by how extraordinary it is to have this enormous stretch of nature tucked into the middle of one of the busiest cities in the world.
Trees, winding paths, people relaxing, dogs everywhere, and the skyscrapers rising just beyond the greenery.
I love it.
In fact, I’ve made a decision.
I’m quitting my job and moving to New York to become a professional dog walker.
Think about it. Fresh air, Central Park every day, adorable dogs, and presumably some wealthy Manhattanite willing to pay an absurd amount of money to have someone walk a miniature schnauzer named Winston.
I’ve already got experience with Darby. How difficult could it be?
Please don’t tell my employer.
And then came perhaps our greatest accomplishment of the day.
We took the subway.
Successfully.
Now, this might not sound like much to those of you who routinely navigate public transportation, but after yesterday’s observations about Tokyo versus New York, this felt like a major breakthrough.
In Japan, the train system is incredibly complex, but beautifully organized. Everything is color-coded, numbered, and clearly marked. If you need the red line, you follow the red line. Even if you can’t read Japanese, you can generally figure out where you’re supposed to go.
New York seems to prefer a slightly different approach.
There are letters. There are numbers. There are express trains, local trains, uptown trains, downtown trains, and platforms that apparently require a minor in urban transportation studies to understand.
I miss my red line.
But today, we managed to find the right train, get on it, and actually emerge somewhere near our hotel.
No wrong boroughs. No accidental trips to the Bronx. No need to call for rescue.
I consider that a tremendous victory.
I’m fairly confident that by the time we leave New York next week, I’ll have the subway system completely figured out.
Just in time to go home.
And that was Day Two.
From a peaceful breakfast in Bryant Park to the grandeur of the Morgan Library, the soaring ceilings of St. Patrick’s Cathedral, and the beautiful chaos of Grand Central, we covered a lot of ground today.
I’ve come away with some ambitious decorating plans, a possible new career as a Manhattan dog walker, and the beginnings of what I hope will become a functional understanding of the New York subway system.
It’s a lot to accomplish in one day.
And I’m falling a little more in love with this ridiculous city by the hour.
But our day isn’t quite over.
Tonight, we’re heading to Broadway, where I’m about to come face-to-face with a woman I’ve been sleeping with for years.
Matt knows all about her. In fact, he’s been there for most of it.
And before anyone starts questioning the state of our marriage, I promise there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation.
Well, mostly reasonable.
Let’s just say tonight has the potential to be one of the highlights of my trip. Or the beginning of a very embarrassing conversation with theater security.
That adventure deserves a story of its own.
Stay tuned. Broadway, here we come!