...have Paris come to New York! Hail the almighty bagel!
Yesterday I picked Sébastien up at JFK for three weeks of family, fun, sun, and vacation...with my grandparents. Oh yes, it's happening. We all know that my family is a crazy bunch, but on vacation, it's no holds barred. Flashbacks of last year's trip to the Bahamas are starting to resurface. My favorite was when a church volunteer came to the door of our rented condo looking for donations. Nevermind the fact that my grandmother was openly miffed that they would dare knock on the door at 6pm, a time when "everyone" is sitting down for dinner, but my grandfather refused to write a check. The volunteer instead got a 45 minute lecture about community before he was sent off with enough Italian grub - some items unidentifiable - to feed Tony Soprano for a year. The volunteer made no efforts in hiding his disappointment, or rather irritation of our offerings which to me, only discredited his role at "the church". "What do they need cash for?" my grandfather asked no one in particular as he shuffled back to the table, "Soppresata from Da Vinci's Trattoria, that's as good as gold!" In our family, food is currency. That is just a slice of what Séb has ahead of him next week.
This is his opportunity to back out.
As usual, picking him up from the airport was an adventure. Since I didn't have access to a car and the weather didn't even seem safe enough to drive, I took the convenient air train to get him. I arrived 45 minutes early, and instead of standing in the terminal longer than necessary, I sat at the "café" located inside the air train station to kill time with an iced tea. I would have had a glass of wine at the adjacent bar but thought better of sitting at at a bar with seven other drunk men who were sloppy and speaking over each other. Nothing brings out your inner snob than being sober and listening to useless drunk jabber. Seriously, what is it about having a few drinks that completely disables our ability to listen? We all do it.
Thanks to this bar, tourists getting off their long flights were welcomed to New York with a sing along of "Don't Speak". Of all songs...Not only were drunk grown men trying to make their voices sound baby sweet like Gwen Stefani's, but the Latina bartender was chanting shots during each beat of the song. For example: "You and me - SHOTS! - We used to be together - SHOTS! - Everyday forever - SHOTS! - I really feel - SHOTS! - like I'm loosin' my best friend - SHOTS!" And so on...
The look on these traveler's faces only confirmed my suspicion that the rest of the world really do think that New Yorkers are out of their damn minds. While I'm sure they appreciated the kick off to their vacations, who weren't exactly on board with the glee was the disgruntled flight crew who were undoubtedly taking the railroad back to Flight Attendant mecca; Kew Gardens. Comments like "I didn't even want this turn but I needed the hours.", "Our number 2 on our trip was useless!", and "I left a note in my trip trader's mailbox to drop my Coracus trips this month but..." could be heard from passing airline personnel scurrying home.
After waiting two hours in the terminal, as six international flights came in at the same time, I finally ran into the arms of a disoriented Séb who had been traveling for 15 hours and came armed with European delights (WINE!). I'm looking forward to the next few weeks of adventures that we'll be sharing together, and as usual, I'll keep you all posted!
I hope everyone is enjoying these dog days of summer!
