Boulevard of Broken Streets

SO WE WENT to New York. Yes we did. This is a corned beef on rye from the Stage Deli, the Wifey's favorite. We went there the first night, showing up about five thirty. By the time we left, a little after six, the joint was packed.

What you do not see in this shot is the first of two beers I had with this meal. The sandwich-- this is half, by the way-- was fifteen bucks. The beers came to sixteen bucks.


This is me just a shade below Times Square. I include this mainly to counter the Wifey's assertion that I didn't take any pictures outside of the hotel room. This is actually one of the many pedestrian plazas recently created along Broadway, in the name of alieviating traffic. The first couple of them kind of baffled me, but the further we went Uptown, they more they grew on me. And, strangely enough, they seemed actually to be working. Broadway used to have some of the most egregious traffic jams, all the time, and in the 25 blocks we walked up and back, we didn't see a one.

(But I actually didn't take any pictures outside the hotel, for the rest of the trip. I didn't want the camera to slow me down. Union Square, Madison Square Park, Washington Square Park, Chealsea, Greenwich Village, the Hudson, Chealsea Pier Park-- I think that's what it's called-- East side, West side, all around the town.)

And here's the Wifey setting up her Command Center. (Laptop.) She was so entirely into it that she didn't even notice me taking the picture.

And this was lunch. A coupla of Carlsburgs from a bodega a coupla blocks up and a pastrami on rye from the, literally, corner deli. (Actually named the Corner Cafe.) This was the third day, by which point I had tweaked my left knee, shocked the sinews of my shinbones, and beat my feet all to hell. My reasoning was that I had better take it easy for the rest of the day. (I didn't. That was the day I stepped out the door of the Hampton Inn on 24th Street at Sixth Avenue and walked straight out west all the way to the Hudson, and Chealsea Pier Park.)

Speaking of the Chealsea Hamp, this was our view, or really as much as I could get of it through the window. (I got what I thought was a better shot, but the Wifey suggested, correctly as it turns out, that the bar in the middle of the window ruined it. It really did.

And here's where they lived. (Monty Python reference.) This is the bitchin' high rise apartment builing across the road. I didn't actually see any of the tenants during the stay. But I did toast them with my Carlsburgs.

And here's the view colored by the sun setting over the Hudson river. On this day, I believed in God.

And this is the view at night. Good night, New York.

And this is my plane home. I thought it was a kind of pretty view, for an airport. An album cover maybe. Anyways, the plane got me home, which is good. And sad. The shuttle van took us across the Queensboro bridge, across Rooseveldt Island, with a great view from Midtown all the way down the island. The plane banked high and hard getting out, giving mostly a view of the sky and the sun, but as I looked back I got a shot of the middle of the island, clear from river to river, with the Empire State Building right smack dab in the middle. Good bye, New York. I love you.