Thought I forgot about ya, huh?  Thought I forgot how to blog?  Thought I’d been struck by a speeding commuter bus and sent to an early grave, unable to bring you the thrilling conclusion to our NYC trip? Well, stop being wrong. Also, stop fantasizing about my death. That’s messed up.

When we left off, it was our last day in New York. I made the grand misstep of planning a number of meet-ups at once, some more premeditated than others, on the very last day of of our trip. My downfall was not so much in the layering of plans as much as it was my drinking and staying up late the night before.

As such, we did not get to meet up with our friend Megan for lunch. This was sad. Megan is one of my old school homies from the Port City of Shreve. She now lives in New York, where she serves as the Associate Artistic Director for the Women’s Project, “the nation’s oldest and largest company dedicated to producing and promoting theater created by women.”

You can put your logo wherever you want. I still know there are boobs there.

It’s a shame they only produce and promote theater created by women because I wrote this wonderful musical about the cervix that I’ve been shopping around. I guess I’ll have to settle for a company dedicated to producing and promoting theater created by men for women. That’s a thing, right?

Luckily, we got to see Megan and meet her beau at Morgan and Bryan’s wedding earlier in the year.  Thus, it was only mildly heartbreaking that we would not cross paths during this trip.  I woke up late, called Megan, and regretfully informed her that Alyssa and I would not be able to trot up to Hell’s Harlem (or whatever weird new name they have for the neighborhood where her office is located) because we had karaoked too hard the night prior and overslept.

The buttered salt bagel I ate while phoning Megan.

While it had only been a matter of months since we’d last seen Megan, there were a few folks I had not seen in quite a while. And it would be just a little while longer before I would see them again.

Luke, Alyssa, and I hopped on the train and went into the city. Destination: High Line.

Times Square: Day

We stopped at Mood, a fantastic fabric wonderland that is regularly featured in one of Alyssa’s all time favorite shows, ProJo RunWaah. You may know it as Project Runway, but I’m cute and clever and like to come up with precious nicknames for things.

Alyssa, understandably overwhelmed by fabric.

We then headed toward the entrance to the High Line. But first, my gullet demanded a hot dog. And who am I to deny the wants of my gullet?

Luke and I, chowing down on some dogs.

Gullet sated, we head to the High Line. I snapped retro phone pics along the way.

A few blocks later, we reached our destination.  The High Line is…well, I’ll let this placard tell you:

More specifically, it’s an elevated pathway that’s part urban nature trail, part sculpture garden, part public park, and all awesome. Here are some shots…

The signage for the elevator that took you to and from street level.

Luke Jackson, one of Manhattan Island’s most ardent and sexiest supporters of the High Line.

Alyssa enjoying a refreshing cucumber-lime paleta.

After a volley of phone calls, we met up with Ben, my dear old friend, ex-roommate, and oft-rumored lover. Ben is from Texas, but lived in NYC for a while before we met. He’d been in Dallas for a while, but then returned to New York a few years ago and is now working in the showbiz, currently working on production of MTV’s upcoming reality series Teen Wolf Mom 4.

(left to right) Alyssa, DJ Geoffy D, and Benji

We finished strolling the HIgh Line, Alyssa purchased a Cher Guevara shirt, and then the four of us retired to a beer garden where we each enjoyed a mug and some conversation.

We finished our beers, parted ways with Ben, and made plans to regroup later in the evening. Back to Luke’s place where Alyssa and I changed for our dinner date with the oldest of my old friends. Luke arranged after-dinner plans, and Alyssa and I headed uptown for some t0p-notch family-style Italian dining at Carmine’s with Oscar, Marco, and Peter.

Oscar, Marco, Peter, and Me

Oscar, Marco, and Peter. These were the guys I grew up with. They were around for all the formative moments of my youth; my first black eye, my second black eye, the first time I asked out a girl (swiftly followed by my first rejection by a girl), and so forth.

We met Oscar and Marco’s lovely wives Stacey and Leigh Ann, they met Alyssa, and these three women (four, if you count Marco and Lee Ann’s beautiful daughter ) patiently withstood our rambling reminiscences. One story bled into the next. We bounced from one childhood memory to another in a non-linear Slaughterhouse-Five-like storytelling pattern.

After dinner, we walked down to a bar for a quick drink, met up with Ben, and exchanged goodbye bro-hugs.  It was all over too soon. It’s not like I need a good excuse to visit New York.  If I did, it would be going to a Mets game with these guys and our respective better halves. That would be the beginning and end of my bucket list.

Meanwhile, Luke had reserved a table for us at the Comedy Cellar for that night’s show. Ben, Alyssa, and I hopped in a cab and headed downtown, taking us through a bustling traffic-jammed Times Square.

Times Square: Night

The show was great, the drink minimum not exorbitant, and I was afforded the opportunity to accuse Ben of being an Eskimo (one of my favorite pastimes) in front of a bunch of people.

It’s not uncommon for relatively famous comedians to stop by the Comedy Cellar unannounced. On this night Dave Attell was on the bill, but 40 Rock‘s Judah Friedlander was not.  Attell was funny, if a bit under-prepared. Friedlander slayed with  laser precision.  After the show we got to meet the man himself.

Alyssa, Judah Friedlander and me, apparently in my third trimester.

Freidlander was very nice and engaging. However, he seemed to get a bit defensive during the following exchange.

Me: Last time we were in town we went to ASSSCAT at UCB and —

Judah Friedlander: Well, that’s sketch. That’s not stand-up. It’s different.

Me: Uh….yeah.

I KNOW THAT! Don’t you think I know that, Judah Freidlander? What kind of bumpkin do you think I am?

Not sure why it bothered me, but it did. The ultimate comeback would’ve been something like, “Well, you both whore out for those VH1 clip shows. How would I, a common peasant with absolutely no insight into your mystical comedy world, know of such a distinction?”

This was around 2 a.m. so I was understandably cranky. We bid Ben a fond adieu and made nebulous plans to hang out in the future. I wanted to go grab a slice at the nearby pizza place that’s featured in the opening credits for Louie. But, as you can tell from the above photo, I already had plenty to eat.

We headed back to Luke and Tania’s place and crashed hard. We woke the next day, packed, and enjoyed one last delicious bagel breakfast before Luke drove us to the airport.

It was a whirlwind adventure jam-packed with good times, great food, and the best friends you could ever ask for. *Triste*

EPILOGUE

Ok, so this all happened about four months ago. I have been less than expedient with the blogging. Stay tuned while I try to play catch-up in the coming weeks.

Since our last post, the good Reverend Russ Heller, who is a photographer when he’s not marrying cool people, posted a gazillion photos on Facebook. These shots were taken at the the sweet ass photo “booth” Russ set up in the reception area at John and Hil’s wedding.  Straight-up zaniness ensued and was captured on camera to be documented for the ages. Behold!

Rev Russell and Action Jackson

Antonio makes any photo he appears in 175% more stylish. That’s just simple math.

Tania & Luke

The sexiest improv troupe ever.

Good times. Good times nearly erased by mass consumption of alcohol. But thanks to Rev Russ and his photo-shoot-booth, the memories will survive even the most rampant of black-out drinking.

Moving on. The day after John and Hil’s wedding, we met our friends Jason and Tory in Boerum Hill for Sunday brunch at the Clover Club.

Smith St.

Alyssa, Tory, and Jason sippin’ on some speakeasy beverages before brunchin’ it up.

Jason and Tory are rad peoples. Jason does post-production media…or media post-production…or video something-something. I don’t know the exact term, but it’s way super cool. Tory is a health and wellness expert who makes chocolate awesomeness on the side. She was nice enough to bring us a big ass jar of homemade chocolate fantasy.

Get some chocolate awesomeness at ToryMarshChocolate.com

Clover Club was nice and brunchy. I started with a bacon sampler that featured maple bacon, black pepper bacon, and duck bacon. Yes, duck bacon.

The fancy bacons.

Consumption of the fancy bacons.

We had a great time catching up with Tory and Jason.  In a trip that felt constantly rushed, our Sunday brunch was a wonderfully mellow meal.

After brunch we touched base with Luke. Previously laid plans to hook up in Manhattan and run around drinking crazy juice out of flasks had been cancelled on account of the wedding venue needing to be cleaned up.  Thus, Alyssa and I were left with a free afternoon.  So we hopped on the F train and headed into Manhattan to rouse about the Village.

Washington Square Park

We stopped by the Lomography gallery store on W 8th St, soaked up some of their air conditioning, and perused the plastic cameras that inspired many a retro camera phone app (including the one I was using to take most of the pics on this blog).

Then we headed up 6th Ave. to catch the 7 train back to Brooklyn.

Alyssa, visibly irritated by my constant picture taking. Both of us were unaware that we had overshot our stop. 

We met up with Tania and Luke at their place, took a break and then headed out for dinner. We stopped in at a nearby bistro, had a few drinks and munched on appetizers while Luke and John coordinated dinner over the phone.

Tania had to work the next day, so she had to bow out before the late night activities.  We met John, Hil, Hil’s sister and Hil’s sister’s dude (I’m terrible with names) for tapas and sangria. Then we headed up to d.b.a. for after dinner drinks, merriment, and storytelling.

We wished John and Hil happy travels during their honeymoon in Spain and parted ways. But we barely made it to the curb before I demanded karaoke. I demanded it. “Karaoke,” I demanded. Luke consulted his phone and five blocks later we were drinking and singing.

Alyssa sings The Smiths.

Luke emulates Elvis Costello.

I Might Be Giants.

We drank and sang and sang and drank into the wee hours. 4 a.m., to be exact. We got back to Luke & Tania’s place and Alyssa, quite responsibly, went to bed. Less responsibly, Luke and I retreated to the roof of his building for a nightcap courtesy of his best man gift, a big fat bottle of Johnny Walker Blue.

We only had about a finger of JWB each. Otherwise we probably would’ve fallen from the roof and stained the sidewalk with our gut stuffs. Thankfully, that was not the case.

The next day would be our last day in NYC and we had more places to go, more things to do, more old friends to see, more food to eat, and a prime time sitcom super star to meet, however briefly.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Ok, so where were we?

Oh yes, I insinuated that I was going to do a blog post about our NYC trip and then hit you over the dome with a TO BE CONTINUED… as soon as we stepped off the plane.

So, let’s pick it up where we left off. Luke picked us up at the Newark Airport, we hit the highway and, thanks to my expert navigation, instantly got lost. But that didn’t stop us from taking pictures. Behold, the grandeur and opulence that is Newark, New Jersey.

How majestic!

Breathtaking!

Ok, that’s a bit unfair. Those two pictures are not representative of the entire state of New Jersey. Just most of it.

Eventually, Luke got us back on track and we were Brooklyn-bound.

Cutting through Tribeca, we stopped at Hook & Ladder #8, a.k.a the firehouse from Ghostbusters. Why? Because it was the firehouse from Ghostbusters.  C’mon!

We hopped back in the car and cut across lower Manhattan.

Freedom Tower

Once in Brooklyn, we stopped in Red Hook and Luke took us to the Red Hook Lobster Pound for a light late lunch. Alyssa and Luke ordered lobster rolls and I ordered a shrimp roll because I’m a devil-may-care non-conformist who plays by his own set of rules, especially when it comes to seafood sandwiches.

Red Hook Lobster Pound

We grabbed our lunch to-go and Luke took us down to the waterfront where we ate, took a nice walk, and, having spent the last month living with daily temperatures exceeding 100 degrees, enjoyed weather that did not make you want to stab yourself in the eyes and throat with a knife made out of ice.

We hopped back in the car and headed to Luke and Tania’s place in Brooklyn Heights.

Luke Jackson: firefighter, marathon runner, and cross-borough chauffeur.

We freshened up at Luke and Tania’s place and got ready for dinner. John and Hilary were nice enough to invite us to their rehearsal dinner at a nice Mexican place in Astoria.

On the way to dinner.

We happened to pass 5 Pointz on the way to the restaurant. It’s an aerosol arts center in Long Island City, a wall writer’s refuge and urban art gallery that nurtures and hosts some of the best graf artists in the world.

You can check out a Flickr set of some quick snaps I took at 5 Pointz here.

Below are a couple of pictures I took using this fancy phone photo filter that makes sunny outdoor pictures look all cool and retro, but nighttime indoor pictures make everyone look like they suffer from a mild case of rosacea.

Luke & John

Tania & Alyssa

Alyssa & I

Hil & John

Luke, Alyssa, & Tania heading home.

We went back to Luke & Tania’s place, had a few beers, and wound down for the evening.  The next day, Alyssa and Tania went and got their nails did for the wedding. Meanwhile, Luke made me breakfast and we listened to NPR. I think we’re married now.  Not only did NYC legalize gay marriage a couple months ago, they made it so easy that all you have to do to make it official is cook eggs for another dude while listening to Car Talk.

Tania and Alyssa got back from their manny-peddies and it was time for Luke and Tania to get ready for the wedding (John and Hilary’s wedding, not my gay wedding to Luke).

Alyssa and I headed out in search of the greatest food ever created by anyone ever; the triangular wonderstuffs that make me sob like a war widow. Oh, just the thought of consuming its cheesy, greasy greatness is enough to send me into fits.

Put it in my face hole.

The most beautiful photo I have ever taken.

I wept with each bite. Tears of joy and orange grease.

We headed back to Luke & Tania’s, got ready for the wedding, and hopped in a cab. The cabbie was nice enough to explain that we would subvert the BQE in favor of taking us to the wedding’s venue in Long Island City via Manhattan, the Bronx, Albany, and Quebec.

Part of being a cabbie is being able to spot an out-of-towner from six blocks away and take full advantage of their naivety and ignorance. Who am I to upset the natural order of the crooked cabbie? Especially when we got a few neat pics out of the trip and still got to our destintation on time.

We arrived at the Metropolitan Building for the event of the season. The bar opened at 3 pm, the ceremony started at 3:30, dinner was served about 6-ish, and then the dance floor was absolutely ablaze until 11:30 pm. There’s a Flickr set of the evening’s festivities that you can check out here. Below are a few highlights.

Tania reading a section from the Postal Service song “Brand New Colony”.

John and Hil sealin’ the deal.

Hilary: “We’ll pay for the glass!”

I particularly enjoy the facial expression on Reverend Russ here.

Eat, drink, and get dancing.

Continuing my streak of not getting a good shot of Hilary, John throws a right uppercut in front of his new wife’s beautiful face. Gracias por nada, Juan.

Alyssa munching on some dance fuel, otherwise known as cannoli and chocolate balls.

The dance floor ignites! Everybody clap your hands!!!

Mr and Mrs Dr. Hil’ohn

Mr and Mrs Jackson-Sterl being silly and naughty, as is their wont.

Tania with her good friend Antonio Marquez.

Antonio is an insanely talented designer and, quite frankly, the MOST FABULOUS MAN IN THE WORLD!

(Sorry, Dad.)

Don’t get more sexy than this, does it? No, it does not.

Get that camera outta my face. We have drunken yelling to do!!!

Damn, it was a wonderful evening. We had a great time, partied with some awesome people, ate amazing food, and danced our lily white Texan asses off all night. At the end of the evening we passed on the after party (we are old and lame) and jumped in a cab back to Luke & Tania’s place to rest up. We were gonna need it.

The trip is just getting started. We have two more days chock full of fun, friends, food, more friends, and even more food. Who will show up? What delicious NYC delicacy will I cram into my gaping food cave of a mouth? You’ll have to stay tuned to find out.

TO BE CONTINUED… 

~ Geoff

It’s been quite a while since our last formal blog update. Not much to report, really.

Alyssa is still busy at Cheerleading Company, taking ballet/power barre classes at the local rec center, crafting/canning/jamming with her crafty, canny, jammy girlfriends, and trying to get me to do yard work.

I quietly quit freelance writing in favor of a day job as a technical writer at a company that develops vehicle tracking technology for csoj’;][ dlkhfelfhj &)@#Esoi hsbanklvn dijpi[dnjx k … Sorry, I got so bored describing what I do that I instantly fell asleep and collapsed onto the keyboard. Anyway, I’ve been busy getting settled at this new job, routinely suppressing hair-trigger rage, and finding excuses to get out of doing yard work.

Buster has been busy being Buster.  Let’s check in with him now, shall we?

Still at it.

So, what brings us back the blog?  More travel. We’re fresh (and by “fresh” I mean “unwashed, wall-eyed, and weary”) from a recent trip to NYC. Before I continue, let me swiftly thank the four people most responsible for allowing us to return to the Apple that is so infamously Big.

PROPS TO OUR PEEPS

Hil & John

The recently betrothed John and Dr. Hilary Vidair-Giuffo (celebrity couple name: Dr. Hil’ohn) were super-mega kind enough to invite us to their nuptials. This event was the crux of our visit and one of the most memorable evenings in recent years. You may remember that we met John and Hilary during my friend Luke’s wedding, back in 2009. They are two of the coolest, funniest, smartest, Queens-y-ish people we know and we are very lucky to know them and call them friends. Hopefully the future will find us traveling together and having worldly adventures. In fact, tentative plans have been floated for a trip that would have us converge on d.b.a. in New Orleans.

Tania & Luke

Luke and I met in high school and he is one of my oldest, dearest, bestestest friends. He’s a fan of good music, the best buddy anyone could ever wish to have, and an American hero. Tania is funny, sweet, beautiful, fabulous, awesome, and all sorts of wonderful. We love them both very much. They hosted our stay, lugged us around town, picked up tabs, paid cab fares, and were generally awesome throughout our stay. We hope they come to visit soon so we can return the favor. However, it is a bit difficult to convince New Yorkers to make a recreational visit to the South. Tired of constantly being surrounded by fantastic things to do all the time? Why don’t you come down to see Christopher Cross at the Choctaw Casino? You’re welcome.

THE BRONX IS UP AND THE BATTERY’S DOWN

New York City has been dutifully noted by theologians, historians, theologiorians, and musical recording artists as a fairytale land where they have cars big as bars and rivers of gold, where you can gather all the news you need from the weather report, and, most recently, a concrete jungle of which dreams are made.

I grew up in Queens and spent many afternoons in the city with my family. It is my favorite city in the universe. No contest. I know some people will try to convince you that some of the outer quadrants of the Andromeda Galaxy have better gyros, but those people are filthy liars. Filthy, dirty, sexy liars.

Thus, we find ourselves arriving at Newark Airport.

Luke swept in, piloting a forest green Honda, picked us up and exclaimed, “Welcome to New Jersey. Now let’s get the hell outta here.”

TO BE CONTINUED…

~ Geoff