Despite liking the Real Housewives, being obsessed with Broadway shows, and loving the new show Bethenny Getting Married?, and also having visited New York ever since I was little, I could never live there, and much prefer Philadelphia, DC, or Boston (as far as bigger northeastern cities go). Yet, most of my friends from college have settled there, and my brother, sister-in-law, and my nephew are there for the next two years, so I have to put that icky feeling aside, man up, and visit more often. Though my friend and I had no concrete plans for the day, we started off by crossing some errands off of her list, Macys and Sephora.
We got to Macys around 9:45, tried the door, and figured out (all be it a little slowly) that they were not open yet. To pass time, we made a quick coffee stop before heading back in the little "vestibule" to wait for the doors to open. Little did we know, even on a freaking wednesday morning, away from all shopping holidays, at the side entrance, crowds of determined shoppers began to line up to get in. As a people watcher, this was fantastic for me, and I took joy out of each and every person who attempted to open the door to the store, even though we were all patiently waiting in a herd outside the door to get in (as if we were just chilling). It also was a little slice of heaven to witness the mad dash when the doors finally opened (after we were told by security it would be a few minutes longer and the mood in the room dropped). To get in, I felt like I was competing for the last Furby or Beanie Baby, but, in actuality, I was just entering the men's store and could merely snatch up some tighty-whities.
After a lot of bedspread looking (which mostly consisted of me sitting on these chairs by the beds that looked like they would feel horrible on your bottom, but actually were the best, most comfortable, pillow-type chairs ever....Thank you Martha Stewart), we finally left the store via a long descent on the elevator. What is normally a boring experience (or awkward due to over, or under crowding issues), was fascinating to me the minute I realized Macy's had a button for floor "1 and 1/2". Now, if my friend didn't look at me like I was crazy for how excited I was about this button, I undoubtedly would have gone exploring as I felt like it was some hidden platform that would take me somewhere fantastic...like Hogwarts. In my head I began rocking out to the imagination song from Willy Wonka ("Come with me...and you'll be...in a world of pure imagination...), but, since she gave me the...only you...face, I knew we should probably just leave the store before someone got hurt, or before my hopes of the magical "1 and 1/2" were ruined when I discovered it was really just a floor of lingerie.
We then spent the rest of the morning shopping and walking around Soho. This included many people ramming into me and not apologizing (oh thanks, I only just had surgery on that arm), a journey to a store called Calypso run by French speaking women from St Barth's where I enjoyed understanding everything that they were saying to the French speaking customers and was sincerely hoping to catch them talking shit about us, as we really couldn't afford anything there (Side note, once in France at a chocolate shop I caught the saleswomen talking about my parents taking too long to order with some "stupid American" comment, and I responded to her, in French, and felt like a million bucks), and a tiny bit of dress shopping (probably just because it was half off and cute, as I hate to shop, I bought a dress). Finally, after my friend left, I took a little detour to catch another friend on a 15 minute coffee break from her high-powered banking job and then met my bro, his wife, and the baby for some good QT bonding time and dinner. All in all, my heeby-jeeby's about NYC aside, the company made the trip worth it.
Oh, and on my train back (which ended in me being the only person on the train, and in me blindly walking down our driveway that has no lighting, praying that a deer or a bear didn't come out of the woods and eat me), I spent a good hour watching the kid in front of me attempt to fold back his note (a la middle school gossip notes), and was insanely jealous.
I kept wondering what was on the note...was it love or gossip?, how did it fold up and am I behind on the cool folding techniques? (I remember I always folded mine into a ring and wore it until class was over to give to my friend and felt SO cool that mine was actually wearable), and when is... too old for note writing?? Then, after reminicing over middle school and fighting back the desire to grab his note and try to refold it myself, I decided I need to bring this old-school fun (and a little bit of danger) back for medical school. Hey, I am sure there is some disease in Psychiatry that I can blame it on if I ever get caught.....
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