What a drag (pun intended)

You can’t really be in New York City and not be sentimental (read: touchy-feely time). There’s something about the city that slaps you in the face with cliché. Everything really.

We stayed in what typically would be a cute and also swank little hotel nestled away in one of the city’s side streets. If you were to walk up the street half a block, the Empire State Building is glowing in its nighttime splendor, probably closer in appearance than actual distance.

I roomed with and next to some of the AVP interns so a couple of us decided to brave the city at night – our shuttle didn’t arrive from New Jersey until close to 11 p.m. Jay even said, “If Mcauley Culkin can survive in New York, then we can do it.” Except for the whole Hollywood thing, that’s fairly true. But NYC does seem to be a big, ruthless city that sucks you right up. Especially if you’re – as I said in the last post – crap with directions.

We wandered a few blocks and found a stereotypical 24 hour diner inviting us inside. The decorations were really eclectic, modern and very New York urban. It was called Moonstruck Diner if that says anything.

But on our way back after midnight (us being two other female interns, one male, and myself) we beheld quite a sight. Waiting at a typical New York street corner many people hurriedly tried to cross the street (remember it’s Sunday at midnight). A taxi swerved without regard to any of the pedestrians and slammed its breaks at the corner right by my vulnerable toes, since I was donning sandals then.

Just as the passengers start unloading out of the cab, to our right comes this loud, lispy (a little too lispy if you know what I mean) voice. This man whose eyes were nearly popping out of his head was strutting his stuff down the street. And like the taxi, he too was swerving quite a bit. At first we ignore it because hey, we’re in the middle of Manhattan. But then he starts calling out to Jay, peppering in the N-bomb whenever he could… in a ridiculous lisp!

At first he started calling him Charlie and none of us were sure why. We keep watching him, like little children excitedly watch a large animal safely behind a pane of glass at the zoo.

“Damn, n-----! You’s like Charlie over there with all them angels. And I know this n----- is straight but he’s surrounded by three divas. You go on boy.”

All the while Jay is cowering behind us, trying to hide from this wreck, but at the same time trying to be protective of us. Nice work.

The pedestrian signal alerts us that we can cross and our lovable friend continues to swerve down the street, still calling at us and praising Jay’s heterosexual ability to pull ladies.

When a taxi was waiting for us to cross to turn, said character stopped in the middle of the street and struck a pose like he was on the catwalk – ass out to the cab and his hands on his hips. Think the Mango skit on SNL.

Exactly like that.

But all in all, New York is very European. Well at least our little corner of it was for one night. For the remainder of our journey, we kept passing grocery stores tucked away in between sky scrapers and all night lounges. In each of the store was a small floral display, open right there on the streets. And you could smell the beautiful flowers from a few feet away as you passed.

Again, I’m going to sound excruciatingly repetitive, but there are so many reminders here on American soil of Europe and its fabulous decadence.

Or maybe I’m just making myself see it in everything because I’m counting down the seconds in my head.