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Last August as I got ready to embark on my week in my favorite city in the continental United States; yes New York City, I realized I was nervous.  I was nervous I was never going to want to leave.  NYC is like my mistress – it is and always has been the greener pasture to my LA, and the short little visits leave room for my heart to grow fonder and fonder every time.  It is for this reason, that I have decided to take action on my  move to new york  plan.  And mean it.  While I may not be able to pay my taxes, have any new clothes for years and live on ramen and lean cuisines a. I don’t care, and b. I’ll be thin right?

I started off the trip with a very refreshing message from the pilot: “ I don’t know if all of you have been watching the weather channel, but Hurricane Bill is on the Eastern Seaboard, and it is going to be raining in New York when we arrive and for the rest of the weekend.”  Must be my Leo luck.  Sigh.    I would be sick on my birthday trip and it would be horrible weather.  I actually prayed on the flight, and while I am not sure to whom, it seemed to work. It only rained for 20 minutes on my birthday.  And my sickness went away.  So thank you higher power.  Unfortunately, that higher power did not prevent my bag from being abused by the Virgin America baggage handlers.  They ripped a clear hole in my bag.  But I got past it.  (mostly because I convinced them to give me a $50 credit towards my next flight. . . )

We began my birthday celebrations at Lupa,  and while put in the back dining room ( not very birthday ish) the food was fantastic.  I was hoping for a hottie waiter ( I always do) but instead we got a middle aged woman with a VERY bad body odor problem.  As we sat down I noticed a faint scent of disgusting, and as our waitress leaned over I got a HUGE waft of what could not be anything but human b.o.  Angela thought so kindly it was a vinegar dressing  It was NOT.  That being said, the food was great, the tuna unbelieveable and the prosecco very effervescent.

Ella ended up being such a perfect place for such a party and there were even some surprise guests!    You really can’t beat that.  The bartender downstairs had the most unbelievably aggressive shake when he mixed his drinks.  It was so good in fact that we did not stop talking about it for the entire weekend.  It  rocked his whole body and should be a true inspiration to all aspiring bartenders.

As I stood against the bar, I felt someone brush up behind me.  I said something along the lines of “oh, are you turning on the mood lighting?”  He was not.  He was turning the lights back on.  Because it appeared that  my hair had turned ALL of the  lights off upstairs.  This prompted a conversation about what would happen if someone had turned on all the lights in a dark bar before everyone was wasted enough to care who they were talking to, and if the coupling at the end of the night would be any different.  We think yes.

Although it was my birthday party, I did not find any love connections.   One guy came up to me towards the end of the night and informed me that had had seen 8 guys hit on me and he didn’t want to be the 9^th.  He then changed his mind and proceeded to hit on me.  I  should have asked him what 8 guys he was referring to.  Because if there were that many guys hitting on me that I didn’t notice, then I must have been reaaaaaly drunk.  I ALWAYS notice.

My friends not only took me out to dinner, threw me a party, took me out to brunch, but they also got a room at the Chelsea Hotel.  Pop Culture sidenote -  this is the hotel where Sid is said to have killed Nancy.  The murder was said to have gone down in Room 100. Room 100 does not appear to exist anymore.  Coupled with the murder vibes we also had a creepy creepy next- door neighbor.  He left his door open the whole time we were there.  There were smells coming from his room that one could only think was rotting flesh.  There were also trash bags hanging from his walls.   Interesting choice of décor if you ask me, but to each their own.  Angela made the mistake of peeking into his room and she received a beady -eyed stare that scared her into next week.

And then we hit the Standard Hotel opening of their beer gardens.  I was hoping for some naked people in the windows.  We got Hugh Grant dining instead.  NOT a tradeoff.  At all.

New York gets me every time.  Really.  And I never seem to get enough.

This year’s 2 week fling with New York to be continued next time…

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