I've been home from New York for a week (almost) and I still haven't recovered. From the trip through the tunnel and the crazy drive through the streets of Manhattan to our hotel, I sucked in a big breath and held it for a couple of hours. Arrive someplace that is so familiar and yet completely new is an amazing feeling.

We said goodbye to the lovely JenB at the curb, and headed into the hotel.

After checking into our, um, interesting hotel room (no wireless!) and testing out the toilet (no room to wiggle, let alone wipe!) Jenifer passed out face down on the bed for a quick nap, Yvonne made evening plans to meet a friend and I hailed a cab and headed off to meet my brother and sister-in-law for dinner.

Well, no. I walked out in front of the hotel and saw a cab and he waved me over and I got in the back. And buckled my seatbelt like a dork. The drive to the restaurant was fairly brief, about 10 minutes I guess, but I was on the edge of my seat the whole time. Or I would have been, had I not been buckled firmly into position.

The honking! The veering! The gesturing!

I always thought that was a pretend, television version of New York City. Maybe it really is, and me being buckled into the backseat of a cab made all the other drivers want to put on a show. Whatever. I was soaking it up.

I arrived at the restaurant, Esca, which was lovely. My brother and sister-in-law already had a table and we enjoyed a glass of wine, a gorgeous plate of pasta (I had gnocchi with lobster) and then shared a dessert. I talked them into joining me for a cab ride (where I butched up and left the seat belt dangling) down to the bar where the singing was going to be taking place.

At 2nd on 2nd, we grabbed a fresh drink, screamed introductions over an earnest couple howling Bridge Over Troubled Water and then headed to the private party room.

My bro and SIL hung in there for a few group-sung renditions of Madonna songs, and then headed out to their own hotel. I hung back, unwilling to leap into the fray until I was possessed by the need to be holding a microphone, and joined Stefania (who can saaaaaaang) on some Shania Twain number. Who knew that is all it would take to get me up and yowling?

After several hours, I allowed myself to be pulled away from the microphone and we caught a cab back to the hotel AKA the dirty studio apartment of that friend you used to know in college. We crawled into bed and slept for what felt like 4 minutes.

In the middle of the night, we all woke up roasting. Apparently we turned on the heater or something before bed, and it was 900 degrees. We also went to sleep with all the lights on. After thrusting the windows open (14th floor baby!) we collapsed back into bed and slept for another 4 minutes. Then the church bells started ringing. And kept ringing. Yvonne provided some heartfelt commentary about that.

Finally, we dragged our sorry carcasses up and showered and dressed for our lunch date with Rich from fourfour. We were just a little excited. Just...T H I S M U C H. LIke that.

We grabbed another cab (again, no seat belt! I didn't even flinch much when the driver honked!) and headed through some picturesque neighborhoods to the Grand Sichuan restaurant on St. Marks.
Y, Jenifer and I were joined by HeatherB, who is also a big fan of fourfour.

Rich is amazing. I won't blather on here. I will, however, share this little piece of funny:

Um, one of these days, I may take a straight photo. (Not likely.)

After lunch, we reluctantly said goodbye to Rich and headed to a Starbucks for fortification. Next stop found us in a cab for a long anticipated meetup with Chris and Susan at Babycakes.

Of course, we walked the wrong way (by a lot) and I stumbled into Papabubble, where I purchased lollipops larger than my childrens's heads for them.

Not the smartest purchasing decision for my own sanity, but was met with critical acclaim.

We bid Yvonne adieu so that she could get a cab to go play beer pong. No seriously. Beer pong.

Once we discovered that we were walking the wrong way, we did an about-face and finally found the bakery. Babycakes smelled like heaven but it was hot as hell, so we ended up camping out on the next-door stoop.

We took some soft-core photos of Jenifer eating a cupcake and HeatherB eating a biscuit for the first time in forever, and then Chris and Susan arrived, and we did it all over again.

Susan decided some shopping was in order, and we walked. And walked. And walked. And then we couldn't find the store, so we took a cab to H&M and got our shop on. Happily armed with a bunch of cheap, cool stuff, we headed back to the hotel and bid Chris a pleasant evening.

You see, my brother had made arrangements for us to join him and my SIL at Gotham, where we saw a hilarious comedy show featuring Chris Titus. We laughed ourselves sick. After the show, I gave my brother and SIL a big hug and sent them on their way back home. Y, Jenifer and I were SO NOT DONE. We walked back to the hotel, changed into warmer clothes and headed down to Times Square for a little look-see.

Y and Jenijen were snapping photos right and left. Me? I was just wandering around trying not to get run down by a cab. We had so much fun, and once again, we didn't get to bed until the wee hours of the morning.

Sleep be damned, Jenifer and I had plans. We wanted to see The Met and Central Park. I also had marching orders to eat a hot dog from a cart. So we went took a cab to the Met. And we ran from Van Gogh to Monet to Picasso and Matisse. We took in some art at top speed, and then walked next door to Central Park.

Oh wait. No, first we bought NYC sweatshirts (in hot pink, natch) and hung our cameras around our necks. THEN we walked into the park.

I also ate a hotdog. Jenifer took photos to commemorate the occasion.

A final cab ride back to the hotel got us back just in time to meet up with Yvonne for our cab ride to the airport.

I was exhausted. It was worth every second. I can't wait to go back.