Autumn in New York

 

I have a conference in New York City tomorrow.

I'm honored and (always) a little nervous about serving as the moderator for Hunt Scanlon's gatherings around the world. Yes, I can say "around the world" because of the numerous events in New York but also San Francisco, and (coming in 2022), London.

To that end, my passport arrived yesterday, a mere three weeks after I applied for it. I'm always amazed at the "gloom and doom" of those who warned me of "running out of time." I applied officially three weeks ago. I got it yesterday.

I'm going to London in April. I shudder to think about keeping "Project 365" kicking during that stretch as the Renegades will also be back in season and there are a ton of things to organize between now and then. "Come for the bad writing, stay for Rob's nervous breakdown." We should make T-shirts.

But, back to New York. I'm expected to be in the Harvard Club (site of said conference) before 8 a.m. but, given trains and always wanting to be ahead of schedule, I'm normally in the building by 7:30.

I think I walked in last time at 7:00.

So, do the math for a soul leaving from Mahopac. I need to be up and on the road by 5 to go to a train station (Croton Falls or Mount Kisco or somewhere else) and go from there.

Early start, indeed.

I've also taken a train from Greenwich but, unless I can leave my car at WGCH and hoof it, parking is otherwise an issue. Plus WGCH is limited on parking so this plan isn't ideal.

A few years back, I began considering staying the night before the conference in the city. 

Now, it's somewhat counterproductive, no? I'm going to NYC to make money but I'm going to drop money to stay the night before? In my initial research, the prices were, well, they were New York prices.

Ah but enter the always-budget-conscious Paul Silverfarb, who found a good deal for the last conference and told me about a deal for a hotel near tomorrow's gathering.

Seriously, Paul is savvy with that stuff.

And so, friends, your friendly neighborhood moderator shall hang with the hipsters tonight in the Big Town.

I'll be a mere block from the Harvard Club. Also, not too far from some Krispy Kreme.

I hate the thought of rolling a suitcase around but I'm willing to take the chance for once. 

Tomorrow is a long day, stretching from that early arrival until well after the post-conference gathering and leaving around 6 p.m.

So one night in a hotel while Sean holds down the fort in Mahopac (and keeps a watchful eye on Rascal) seems like a good investment.

New York -- while we're not always on the same page -- is truly a special place. I can't say I'm an expert on it but I have my fair share of stories and experiences. 

It has been more than a (New York) minute since I've experienced some of the good and great and grim that New York has to offer.

We know what we are. We're big and bold and obnoxious. We don't always see eye to eye for that very reason.

Still, we have our things that only New Yorkers know. Think of the Automat and Toots Shors and THE Garden and THE Stadium and Chock full o'Nuts and Manufacturers Hanover and the Ritz Thrift Shop.

We have knishes and the black and white cookie (Look to the cookie!) and bagels and hard rolls (and hard "R's") and...sorry, world...pizza.

Between you and me and the Staten Island Ferry, I'd still take the noir-induced New York of another time over the spit-polished Times Square that exists now.

New York, like other places, inspires creativity. Songs, poems, movies. You get the idea. Heck just thinking about leaving today was the inspiration for this post (and, to that point, negated the need for my computer to travel with me!).

I wonder if it can be quantified. Seriously, what city has inspired more? I'm genuinely curious. London? Paris? LA? 

Oh, don't get me wrong. I still love the suburbs and, in my case, the Hudson Valley. I'm just as content with summer in Highland Falls (figured I've quoted Billy Joel once so why not keep going?) as I am with summer in the city (Lovin' Spoonful, anyone?).

Thus New York City becomes a treat. An often overpriced, Saks Fifth Avenue/Breakfast at Tiffany's kind of treat.

So give me your tired (which I won't be as tired thankfully) and your poor (which I probably will be) tonight, Big Apple. 

Or, more than likely, find me in my room, ironing my shirt for tomorrow and letting my suit hang.

Wrinkles are bad.

New York, New York, isn't everything they say and no place I'd rather be.

I'm in a New York state of mind.