The other side of the tracks?

"Why do you need a coat check in the lobby of an apartment building?" my wife asked.

I'll apologize for this posting in advance. It is both exciting, interesting and a little bit vulgar, but it is entirely honest.

Let's start at the beginning. Tonight was a cocktail party where my employer had a book signing for his new book, a retrospective on his career. We were literally right across the river from our apartment. While we live in Brooklyn, looking at Manhattan, tonight we were at 1st avenue and 49th street, on the 12th floor looking up at the Chrysler building and the blue glow of the Empire State Building. Looking down, you can see the Secretariat Building.

The view was gorgeous. Breathtaking, in fact. But the interior design was opulent beyond words. I've been temping in a design firm that has worked with numerous famous clients and this was one of my boss' favorite homes. An apartment at UN Plaza that overlooks the East Side of Manhattan. His client? She collects Japanese art from the 18th Century that is framed in formal, yet fun, shades of green, red, and pink. There are streiee, mouldings, hand-painted columns and custom-quilted day beds to flesh out the home. It sounds like something inappropriate, but believe me, it is a work of art. The project began as a small (3 bedroom) apartment, but the clients then bought the next door flat, tore down a wall and redid the whole darn things. Not being appreciative of the intricacies of interior design, I have learned that their are details and touches of true art that can touch a home and bring it to an almost sublime level. I've worn two types of plaid simultaneously, so I think I'm learning a lot!

This apartment could have cost upwards of seven million for just the real estate. The decoration alone was worth at least a million. To see it and share in it was an unbelievable experience.

And then there were the guests. They varied from the eccentric to the fun, yet unapproachably rich. My colleague, The Dancer, my wife and I were roaming the rooms of this apartment meeting guests of unimagined wealth who all enjoyed homes designed by my boss. Let's call my boss, The Scottsman. The Scottsman is a (somewhat crotchety) man of his mid-seventies. He has designed for people who you would know from history class, the society papers and people who very quietly control most of the wealth of the nation.

The party began with waiters in tuxedos circulating around with wine and taking cocktail orders. When my wife and I asked for a red, we were politely informed that nothing more than "off -white " was being served. Insert foot in mouth.

Circulating around the apartment, we met a range of people who had all enjoyed working with The Scottsman over the years. My wife and I had switched to white wine by then and our glasses were never less than half full.

At the end of the night, we were in the process of saying goodbye to the Scottsman, Chippy (his wife) and The Host and Hostess. The Host was an older man who remained seated for the party. He had a slight tremor in his left hand and the devil in his eye. My wife was chatting with him while I was speaking to The Hostess across the room.

As she leaned over to hear him a little better, she felt something brush against her backside. She wasn't quite sure what it was, but then she felt it brush by the the other cheek, where it remained. As she described it, time started to slow down. All of a sudden he said, "Do you mind it when people touch your bottom while they talk to you?"

Her only response was, "MR. HOST, BEHAVE." As she took a step away from him, he gave her a devilish grin.

The Bear comes to New York City

Yesterday morning I discovered a voice-mail on my cell from my brother-in-law, The Bear. It began with our favorite Beastie Boys anthem, "No Sleep 'till Brooklyn" and after he yelled that out we heard, "What are you doing for dinner tonight? Call me!"

Having visitors in New York is a nice thing. Obviously, it is a good bit nicer when The Bear's employer is picking up the cab fare and the hotel at Times Square.

All this brings me to the point of this entry. Times Squre. It is the heart of our city yet it is not a place that many locals go to voluntarily. Crowded with people who generally look up, rather than where they are going, it generally takes a Broadway show to entice a New Yorker to its bright lights. I've never had a friend say, "Oh, there is this great cafe at Times Square, why don't you meet me there at 7 p.m. on Friday night." -- (7 p.m. is when the theater rush begins.)

In our effort to blend in as true city folk, my wife and I avoid Times Square like the plague, deride it in conversations with aquaintances and, when forced to go there, hurry past with our eyes glued to the ground.

The Bear's arrival threw that all off, though. He was staying at the Marriott, a hotel so grand that there is has a Broadway show running in the theater on the ground floor. This being his first trip to the city, my wife took him to his hotel and I met them their after rehearsal for a late dinner.

Besides the great pleasure we took in seeing the Bear outside of his natural environments, his visit also gave us a chance to actually see and take in a small portion of Times Square and the Theater District. It was great to just take a moment or two to stop and let him absorb the massive scale of the place and to see the Picasso-smear of lights and colors. The place is vibrant and even on a Tuesay night, it is chock full of interesting people to look at. People who, like The Bear, seemed stunned by the excitement of it all.

Having visitors in the city is a great way for us to be reminded of what a cool place we are living in. It also gives us a chance to do things that we would not normally do, simply because we live here. So, come on and visit us! We have a pull-out in the living room and we are dying to take the "Sex in the City" Bus Tour, the Circle Line Boat Ride around Manhattan, and grab a cocktail at the Rainbow Room (Straight up AND on the Rocks). More importantly, we want to do it with you!

It's the day of the race, y'all!

There is a party right in front of my apartment building and 40,000 people were invited. Today is the day of the New York City Marathon. I'll probably get in trouble for not mentioning it was sponsored by ING. Ah well, such is life.

My wife and I have participated in races before, the largest being the Bolder Boulder 10k. For those of you who don't attend races, there are some very specific cultural idiosyncracies. First off, it isn't just people running. There are bands along the raceway playing all types of music. There are vendors at the end of the race giving away free samples of everything from the latest carbohydrate racing goop to ice cream bars to keychains to visors. The world of road races are as commercial as anything else.

My experience with the Bolder Boulder included all these things. Like my experience at Halloween, though, New York City takes things to the logical extreme. While the BB featured belly dancers, garage bands, Elvis impersonators and a mix of music, the NYC Marathon (sponsored by ING) is a slick setup with some incredibly professional bands with back-up singers, choreography and full-stages set up along the route. Checking out the website, in addition to the requisite vendors giving away freebies, there is a full buffet at Tavern on the Green at Central Park for race participants and families.

Please be assured, I do not mean that the Bolder Boulder is in any way a lesser event. Rather, this city seems to have an obsession with being the biggest, brassiest, and boldest of them all. I wouldn't trade either for the world.

Now I have to figure out how to get my car off the one-way street where it is parked so that I can get to my show this afternoon. Does anyone know any way to distract cops who guard the race path?