The Visible Woman...February 28, 2003

Our lunch is long. When we part, one friend walks with us back to the Iroquois. As we approach it, we here the amplified chants of some protestors and have our first encounter with the union wonks we will come to call the rat people. They have a big (ten feet tall?) inflatible rat and they are protesting our hotel because they aren't hiring union housekeepers and such. I guess. They are loud and rude and I refuse to listen to them. I've paid in advance for my room and I'm not about to move out because a bunch of people want to unionize when others are happy to work for the wages offered.

We go up to our room and rest and read for a while and get ready for the evening's fun.

We leave the hotel, accosted again by rat people who yell 'shame on you' at guests, even little children. With bullhorns. Hey, dudes, your cause isn't getting a good rap here. Maybe I'll move out...and go home to a 'right to work' state.

We decide to walk to the Village. We walk south. We walk through the garment district, through Chelsea, by Madison Square Garden and Penn Station. We see a smart little restaurant called Cafeteria and stop for a meal. I had tomato basil soup and FFP a Caesar salad with a 'one-eyed susan' (an egg poached in pastry) on top. I had some rare tuna and he had some other entree.

We soldiered on and were soon in the Village but, alas, too early! We wandered into a bookstore called 'Partners & Crime' and browsed and listened to people practice a simulated radio play. We walked some more, window-shopped, checked out clubs and stores and, finally, were the first to queue up in front of the V V. At eight they opened, we paid and got a table up front.

Joe Lovano's show (a tribute to Dexter Gordon) was fantastic and we were so close to the music. At one point a guy who looked homeless wandered up with an alto sax and was worked in credibly although he really did seem to be dressed like a homeless guy. Joe seemed nonplussed. He introduced him but I didn't catch it. I thought it was 'Lyons' or something like that. Not Jimmy Lyons, I guess. He's dead I think.

We grab a cab after the show. We go up and read a bit before sleep.

			tourists but hip? We are not up early. The room doesn't get much light from that air shaft. There's the time change. We don't have anything pressing. Finally, we are showered and dressed. FFP needs a muffin and I need more coffee. We wander a bit and end up on Fifth at an Au Bon Pain. (We avoided Starbucks all together in New York but lost count at about two dozen locations we could have gone to.) We have one coffee and one muffin. FFP eats the muffin and I drink most of the coffee. The Empire State Building is nearby. We have some time before our appointed lunch. We decide to do it. On the way, FFP stops and buys a shoe horn. One more thing he didn't bring and missed having. We stand in a couple of lines, the first one for security screening and then get to the elevators that take you up. I enjoy the views but the wind on the north side is biting. I shoot some digital pictures. We enjoy being in a place famous from the movies although the top seems mostly to be about the gift shop. We look downtown where the WTC seems palpably missing. We go back down and still have lots of time. I see a little metal Flatiron building in a gift shop. I stop to buy it for a friend. The shop owner is a slick guy who says he is from Israel. We see the actual building in person (the Flatiron, that is) down the street so we walk down there and walk around. It is beside Madison Square Park and next to a clock tower that was once the tallest building in New York. We wander back toward Park and 32nd where our lunch is to be held. But we are too early. Pitifully, pathologically punctual. We go to a nearby Hallmark store and wander around buying cards for some future, unspecifed occasions to pass the time. On the way back, we are looking in the window of a wine store when the first of our guests finds us. We go to the restaurant and start checking coats. Another couple shows up, then another single. One person we invited is missing, can't make it. Artisanal is a wonderful cheese store and Bistro. We eat bistro food (except I have a cheese plate) and drink some Burgundy. The place fills up fast. None of the New Yorkers we invited has actually been there before. One talks about new media jobs and trying to find a job with a Master's Degree. One talks about being out-sourced so that you don't work for your company anymore but for IBM albeit doing the same work. One talks about managing people's money and how a turnaround is coming in between trying to think up embarrassing stories from my past life with her, many years ago. One talks about looking for high tech work and making do teaching PC classes and such. The whole world seems nervous and scared, not just these friends of mine. I probably should be, too, but I'm not. "What is the most touristy thing we could have done this morning?" I ask. Some guess going to the top of the Empire State Building. Yep. Our lunch is long. When we part, one friend walks with us back to the Iroquois. As we approach it, we here the amplified chants of some protestors and have our first encounter with the union wonks we will come to call the rat people. They have a big (ten feet tall?) inflatible rat and they are protesting our hotel because they aren't hiring union housekeepers and such. I guess. They are loud and rude and I refuse to listen to them. I've paid in advance for my room and I'm not about to move out because a bunch of people want to unionize when others are happy to work for the wages offered. We go up to our room and rest and read for a while and get ready for the evening's fun. We leave the hotel, accosted again by rat people who yell 'shame on you' at guests, even little children. With bullhorns. Hey, dudes, your cause isn't getting a good rap here. Maybe I'll move out...and go home to a 'right to work' state. We decide to walk to the Village. We walk south. We walk through the garment district, through Chelsea, by Madison Square Garden and Penn Station. We see a smart little restaurant called Cafeteria and stop for a meal. I had tomato basil soup and FFP a Caesar salad with a 'one-eyed susan' (an egg poached in pastry) on top. I had some rare tuna and he had some other entree. We soldiered on and were soon in the Village but, alas, too early! We wandered into a bookstore called 'Partners & Crime' and browsed and listened to people practice a simulated radio play. We walked some more, window-shopped, checked out clubs and stores and, finally, were the first to queue up in front of the V V. At eight they opened, we paid and got a table up front. Joe Lovano's show (a tribute to Dexter Gordon) was fantastic and we were so close to the music. At one point a guy who looked homeless wandered up with an alto sax and was worked in credibly although he really did seem to be dressed like a homeless guy. Joe seemed nonplussed. He introduced him but I didn't catch it. I thought it was 'Lyons' or something like that. Not Jimmy Lyons, I guess. He's dead I think. We grab a cab after the show. We go up and read a bit before sleep.

	I didn't try them missing something Another famous building with a bundled up FFP "On any person who desires such queer prizes, New York will bestow the gift of loneliness and the gift of privacy." E.B. White
	JUST TYPING I love to walk. In a city that's meant To be walked. With sidewalks and 'walk' lights. And vendors to sell you an umbrella or a cold drink. A city where others walk. And provide a part Of the Entertainment.

Friday, February 28, 2003