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Day 2

Written on: Thursday August 16th, 2007

A journal entry from: New York, New York

While my mom is going on a morning jog down to the secret half-price ticket booth we found yesterday, I take this seat and prepare to embark on the laborous recording of yesterday's numerous events. It was a big day, the kind that by the time you reach dinner, you can hardly believe that morning was only a few hours before. We both slept in till about 9:30 or so, but I felt I could have slept at least five hours longer. We ate a delicious yogurt granola breakfast we'd picked up the day before, and set out into the streets as soon as we could. Our first destination was Times Square where we knew we could get half-price broadway tickets for later that night. We took the subway there and rushed to the location, only to discover that it didn't open until 3:00pm. A man standing nearby suggested that we return at 2 to get a decent place in line, so our new agenda became finding entertainment until that time. Actually, "choosing" would be a better term. New York is a world of entertainment.

We started off walking down Broadway through Times Square, just taking in the funky bulidings, flashing lights, blaring advertisements. We stopped at a little pretzel stand, one of many scattered through out New York's streets, thinking it was important to try out the classic New York pretzel as part of the whole experience. Well we purchased it, took a few bites of the stale, hard, half-warmed bread(?), promptly disposed of it in the nearest trashcan, and that was that. You don't need to actually finish it for the experience, do you? 

We stopped by the original Hard Rock Cafe and ordered drinks at the bar, a shirly temple and a lemonade to be exact. Then we hopped on the subway and got off at an uptown stop, passed Trump Tower, and found our way to Central Park. The fountains, statues, and greenery reminded me of Europe, but what really got me hooked was the cute foreign boy that approached us with a small bicycle buggy, demanding that we take a ride. It would have been nicer to have our own bikes, but I could hardly resist the offer, and my mom, smirking, accepted. We hopped in and he drove us through the winding paths of Central Park, making small talk and throughing in a little commentary here and there. It was a bit hard to follow with his thick, Russian accent, but as if I cared. Man, I'm going to be in trouble in Europe...

We got back to Times Square a little after 2, returned to the ticket booth, and were horrified by the enormous crowd of people already there. The line was at least 200 feet long and 3 rows thick, and this was just for tonight's shows. We drudged to the back end of it, and stood there in perfect stagnation. We knew of another ticket booth across town and better hidden, and decided, after about five minutes of deep contemplation, that our current position was near pointless and the other booth was worth a try. So we left Times Sqaure for the second time that day and took the subway to South Street Seaport, wondered around the streets with our maps, and finally found the obscure little booth, marked by a line of a wopping three people. Bingo! We bought orchestre seats for Chicago for that night.

The day before we'd seen a hair salon near ground zero, and being only a few blocks away from there, we decided it was prime time for my haircut. Of course it took us a good amount to wondering, circles, and backtracking to find the place. I flipped through a magazine, found a couple pictures of appealing styles, and let my barber get to work. So I now have bangs and a shoulder length layered cut. I don't like it very much, especially the length, but oh well...I've had worse. No regrets.

Unsure of what to do next, we decided to go check out a clothing store Caron had said good things about the other day. We figured we'd just peak in, maybe pick up some cheap pants for me (that's one thing I'm low on) and be done with it. How silly we were. The next three hours were spent riffling through three stories of rack upon rack of discounted designer garments, trying to keep the fitting room visitations to a minimum. The line was so long, and the rooms so crammed (about the size of the smallest possible shower without being illegal), that at one point my mom and I resorted to trying on things in a semi-unpopular corner of the store. Well, it was just me actually. My mom pretended to be fascinated by a very large shirt and held it up to half conceal me, while I tried on jeans. It didn't help that I was standing infront of a mirrow, or that people kept wondering by, or that we were both cracking up the enire time. And of course none of the jeans fit.

We had no time to deposit our purchaces back at the apartment before the show, and arrived at the theater adorned in our day clothes, shopping bags, and all our splendor. The seats were good and the show was enjoyable, but not phenomenal as I'd imagined a broadway musical would be. If anything, the show made me want to go watch the movie version of Chicago again...I think I liked that more. We got out around 11, picked up some NY pizza which was a much better experience than the NY pretzel, and decided to hit the Empire State Building before crashing at the apartment. We went up to the very top, floor 86 I believe, and looked out over the enormous city of lights, stretching to the horizon. Looking out, I felt serene, caressed by the warm, gentle wind and the melody of a lone man's saxophone. There were no stars. How amazing it must be to grow up in the city and then go the mountains for the first time, to see all those lights move from the earth where we have installed them, into the untouched sky.