New York, New York

(I was too pooped to try and summarize/post this on Saturday, so here it is a day late. It's a wee bit long, but jam-packed with fun adventures and pics, so persevere!!)

Twelve hours. We had twelve hours of New York today. And it. Was. Awesome. Are you ready?

We started out the day with bottomless mimosas and french toast covered in Nutella (Nutella!!) with bananas on top. Needless to say, this was a fantastic beginning to my first Saturday in New York. We left the restaurant satiated and the teensiest bit tipsy (it's not everyday I have bottomless mimosas with breakfast). From there we took the subway to Court Street so we could walk the Brooklyn Bridge.

For those of you who are un-NY savvy like myself, this bridge takes you from Brooklyn (which is more affordable, less NY-esque, and has adorable shops and brownstones like the Cosby's lived in everywhere) to Manhattan (which is an actual island, savvier, very New York-y, and full of recognizable NY sites). Coo-ul. The pedestrian walkway is a wide, wooden boardwalk elevated above the traffic. This in turn makes the fantastic views even more accessible to the walking (or biking) commuter. I caught my very first (ever) live and in person glimpse of the Statue of Liberty and the Empire State Building. It wasn't like seeing The David or anything, but I did have that similar tingle of familiarity - ohhh, I know you!!

Aside from the views, the bridge itself is pretty awe-inspiring (and made me wish I wasn't such a lazy photographer; but with the wind, it was so cold. I really wasn't into having my hands out in "the elements" any longer than necessary). These pics clearly don't do it justice, but you get the idea.

After the long and numbing walk over the bridge, we hopped back on the subway toward the Upper East Side to check out Central Park a bit. When we exited the subway, I finally started to feel like this is New York. The buildings were getting taller, the crowds were getting denser, and despite seeing everything for the first time, things started to look a little more familiar. As I was busy gawking at all the enormous and magnificent stores, I spotted FAO Swartz. Normally this wouldn't merit a second glance, but it suddenly occurred to me, "Isn't this where the huge piano from Big is??" I say as much to Mary and Dylan and without another word, in silent agreement and wide-eyed frenzy, we collectively make a bee-line for the entrance.

As we walk in, we are momentarily stunned by the sheer volume of toys and activity happening around us. But I quickly snap out of it, ignore the sudden surge of sheepishness I feel at asking what I know must be the most frequently asked question to every employee in the store and say, "Uhh, this is kind of silly but, is the Big piano here? And where is it?" to the first employee I can snag. "On the second floor, past the cash registers on the left." Aaaand, we're off!! A few moments, a million toys, and one life-sized Lego Batman later, we are standing directly in front of THE piano. It's almost too much to take in: There it is...and we are totally going to dance on it. Mary and I are immediately about 7 years old and giddy. We hand Dylan all our crap, rip off our shoes, and shove some little kids out of the way so we can have our turn.

Yes. It was as awesome as you are right now imagining it to be. After about 10 minutes of play time we were informed there was going to be a show. A show!? This is our lucky day!! We collect our things and watch the two store employees perform (of course) Chopsticks and Heart and Soul, followed by New York, New York and that song by Bach that is commonly referred to as the Organist Duel. Those peeps earn their keep - they did a fantastic job. Wondering what it would take to own one of those puppies? A mere $250,000. That's right: the Big piano costs more than my house. Yikes.

From here we actually did head to Central Park. I had my eyes peeled for Law & Order film crews, or dead bodies among the bushes, but I'm sad/relieved to tell you we didn't see either. But we did discover an ice-skating rink. Seeing as we didn't come prepare with skates, we settled for observing from a rock perch above the rink. But my Spidey-senses were working their mojo and I realized it is the skating rink from Serendipity.

By this time we were getting hungry (and were pretty frozen), so we got back on the subway and headed for Little Italy (which, if memory serves, is near/in Soho - yet another trendy area in Manhattan, which in itself, is a trendy area...really.) Our destination? Lombardy's - the nation's first pizzaria. As in, the first one in the US...ever. Yeah, no joke. If anyplace was going to have true-to-Italy pizza, it would be this joint. (I've been hesitant to have pizza in the US since being home, but this sounded like a safe risk.) I don't really think you need the play-by-play of our meal, but let it suffice to say, the pizza was definitely up to snuff: legitimatly authentic. (And I'm told quite similar to Tutta Bella in Seattle, so if you're interested, check it out.)

From here we headed to a bar called McSorley's (which if you watch How I Met Your Mother, the pronunciation sounds much like "Swarley" and had me snickering to myself all night.) This was the destination I couldn't remember in the previous blog. (While Mary was doing laundry at a laundromat last week, she overheard some people talking about how this was a super cool bar.) We decided to take the unsolicited, eavesdropping recommendation and give it a shot.

Turns out to be an Irish pub founded in 1854. They didn't even allow women inside until 1870. It's still a very manly place. All the furniture is oak-y and heavy and burly. Every inch of wall space is covered with framed, old (1800s) pics/articles/nudie pictures of women. We manage to squeeze our way to a table and a man comes to take our order, "All we got is light or dark, so what'll it be?" The three of us are like deer in headlights, so we quickly rattle off our answers: Dark! Light! Dark! In what feels like about 5 seconds, he comes back and slams SIX mugs of beer on the table. Apparently when you order one, you get two. We shrug our shoulders and dig in.

In the mean time, an argument about the Jets seems to have broken out to our left, the table of frat boys to our right is singing a number of different oldies (from My Girl to that song Tom Cruise sings in Top Gun - I can't think of it at the moment), and a table of professorly looking old dudes are deep in discussion. For fun we start "naming" the people around us: the really, really drunk girl, the fat guy, the guy who seems to be partying with every table in the room, and (our favorite) the self-absorbed New Yorker. This guy was at our table and had numerous memorable quotes including (insert NY accent here): "I rode the subway all by myself today for the first time*," and "Both of us is wearin' a shirt with diamonds**, one of us has to change. I tink it should be you." Eventually we get the feeling this is the kind of place that, if you aren't drinking, you aren't welcome. So after two rounds, we head out.

As we head to the next bar, we're waiting to cross the street, and I happen to look up and make eye-contact with a guy a couple of people away. I immediately gasp and elbow Mary, "I think that guy is Paul Giamatti" I say. Mary replies, "Who is Paul Giamatti?" I tssk her dismissively and then say, "Dylan!! I think that guy is Paul Giamatti!!" He scopes it out and absolutely confirms it. By this time we have to cross the street and I am walking away from Paul Giamatti. But it was totally him. I wish I had shook his hand and said, "Hey man, I just watched Lady in the Water and you were wonderful and I cried. Absolutely amazing. You rock. Thanks man." But I didn't. (It was thrilling nonetheless though!)

I won't bore you with our second and third bars, but I will tell you that between those two stops we went to a Belgian fry place. Yes, this place only sells fries. And they are incredible. They're thicker than McD's fries, but smaller than jo-jos. They're salty and delicious and are served in paper cones with a choice of at least 30 different dipping sauces. Roasted garlic mayo, lemon dill mayo, pomegranate teriyaki, BBQ, ketchup, parmasean peppercorn mayo....and on and on and on. It was fatty deliciousness at it's absolute best.

After bar number three, we were dead on our feet and finally headed home (at about 12:30am, in case you were wondering). It had been a very successful first day in NY.

(I bet you thought that list of stuff we were going to do today was mostly rubbish, right? (Especially the meeting someone famous part.) Ha! Little did you know...)

*Dude, I have been in New York one day, and even I have done this.
**This means argyle.