Highlights from Dragonia’s Birthday

Breakfast in Bed: Coffee with sugar-free hazelnut syrup and cream, served in a Lenox Kelly china cup, with matching silverware (fresh out of its original packaging!) Yogurt, and strawberries, and apples. And bacon. Lots and lots of bacon.

Presents!: Soaps and socks and dresses. Sarah McLachlan’s new album. Sarah McLachlan could sing the phone book and make it sound passable, probably.

State Transit Can Smell Your Fear: Starting off on a shaky foot by running to catch the bus before it pulled away from Sealand’s Acme bus stop. Got the last two seats, all the way in the back, then compared notes on the buses of two coasts. Explained all the highways and tunnels. View of the City from the Helix ramp, across the river. Yes, we’re going UNDER the river.

Times Square: First taste of the blazing sun and stultifying humidity that I usually manage to avoid by being inside all day along. Melting in the street, surrounded by as many languages as cameras, and worth it to be in the beating heart of the True City. Cold air blowing from the open doors of mammoth stores to entice shoppers, despite the threat of fines by the City. The New Year’s Eve ball sitting quietly above it all. D’s first impression: “There’s a LOT of advertisements.”

6^th Avenue: Hot.

Godiva: A brief respite inside, savoring the sight of huddled rows of truffles in the cool air-conditioning. D joined the Godiva rewards club and got a free Key Lime truffle. Picked up a Dark Chocolate Decadence shake, so thick the pieces of chocolate clogged the straw, and fortified ourselves with it on the go.

Rockefeller Center: Art Deco shields on the outside of Radio City music hall. Hanging over the rail above the skating rink to look at the statue of Prometheus, and discovering that they turn it into a restaurant in the summer. Standing on the small stone walkways between the dolphin fountains and listening with delight to the splashing water. Recurring theme: it all looks bigger on TV.

5^th Avenue: Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaht.

St. Patrick’s Cathedral: Lighting a tea light for D’s Mom. Sitting quietly in the awesome space, wondering at the cobalt blues of the stained glass. Picking our way quietly around the outer chapels, looking at statues and relics of St. Theresa and St. Patrick and St. Anthony, and thinking about Mont Saint Michel in Second Life. Staring past ropes and closed doors into the Crypt beneath the altar, where the only stone visible had dates in the 17 and 1800s.

Jekyll & Hyde Club: Four-floor horror-themed cheesy, exorbitantly priced tourist trap, worth every penny for the huge smiles it put on D’s face. And also for the spectacle of a desiccated corpse and Frankenstein’s monster singing “Summer Lovin’” together, from Grease. Animatronic props talking, sometimes repeating canned routines and sometimes interacting live with the crowd. Long weird moment when a duplicate version of the souvenir glass I had for so many years in the house and then broke was placed on the table by the waitress. Ravioli for her, burger for me. Waitress bought me a Blue Something or Other instead of a Blue Moon, so they comped it and D got to drink it in addition to her Red Something or Other.

Politeness: People laughing. People smiling. People being helpful, and excusing themselves, and saying nice things about D’s tattoos, in blatant defiance of everything everyone has ever told her about this area, including me. The only rude guy was from out of town, and French!

Central Park: Stumbled around and into the southeast corner of it, lagging again from the still merciless heat. Passed at least two weddings: brides and grooms and bridesmaids beading and mopping themselves, and flashing moist, shiny grins for the phones and cameras. Stone bridges too hot to lean on, and all of the horse-drawn carriages mysteriously disappeared, replaced by an endless number of taut-muscled men biking pedi-cabs. Finally tracked one that passed us by back to its starting point, and took our first ever carriage ride. The horses are still stabled on the West Side, and they get 6 months off on a farm after spending 6 months in the City. Declined to have our picture drawn by 400 different caricature artists.

Columbus Circle: When did people start hanging out in the circle itself, and not just under the Spanish-American war memorials?

Cosi: Across from the Wintergarden Theatre, on the ground floor of the Paramount Plaza building, where I used to work. Crossed the property line for the first time in a decade, thinking about playing arcade shooters with Special K down in the basement of Mars 2112, and mostly just wanting to sit down someplace cool and out of the sun. Ordered blueberry pomegranate and mango smoothies, and liked each other’s better, so we traded them.

Mamma Mia!: At the Wintergarden.  E-ticketing. The aforementioned rude French guy and his family physically pushing D forward into the theatre lobby so they could get inside the doors. Orchestra seats, smack in the center, 8 rows from the stage; nearly impossible to beat. Teenage girls in the seats next to us filming themselves talking and singing ABBA songs with their camera at every opportunity. Advanced critique on the show itself certainly possible, but only worth it for the theatre-savvy: way too much fun!!

Times Square redux: second round, this time at night, and finally liveable with the sun long gone. Strolling hand in hand down the car-lanes turned to pedestrian-walkways, following the crowd. D amazed by the sheer number of people out so late at night. Ran across the Free Hugs people (this is a thing, apparently?) and stopped to hug them, then wound up drafted, standing in the middle of the throngs with them, holding our own Free Hug signs, trying to get 10 other people to hug us apiece. D made her quota; I only made six, but they let me go with her.

Escape from NY: Passed the new Shake Shack on 8^th Avenue on the way back to Central Terminal, line still out the door. 11:30 PM bus packed so full there were standees. Go Figure. At least we didn’t have to use the mythical 300 gates.

T minus 10: Walked very slowly through the streets of Sealand on the way home, then stopped at Dunkin Donuts for a Mocha Coolata and two Boston Cremes, and finished the journey, laughing all the way. Coolata seemed thin after the Godiva shake. D reduced her doughnut to a crescent moon with a single bite, with only 120 seconds left in her birthday. A fitting end.