Time Out

Ok, so I know I'm supposed to be finishing up blogging about our honeymoon before blogging about anything else that's happening in real life (or at least that's the rule I have for myself), but I just had such a lovely New York day that I had to write about it. This is going even more against my rules, because I don't even have pictures to go with it. Its fine if some of you stop reading at this point. I'm even posting this with the real date on it. So next time you check back to see if I've blogged more about Florence or Rome (and I promise I will soon), don't forget to scroll down past this post.

The day started with bagel sandwiches from New York Eats and iced coffee from Starbucks while I sat with Geoff on the couch and he watched College Football and I read though old Entertainment Weeklys (I'm way behind). Bagel sandwiches aren't exactly on my diet, but since I'm just getting over being sick (thank you, antibiotics) and Geoff is in the midst of it, we're allowed. Spent a little time this morning running to get drugs and gatorade for poor Geoff who is, even as I type this, shooting a wedding down in Battery Park, despite his aches, chills and sinus pressure. Everyone pray the DayQuil Sinus kicked in.

I left him around 2pm to head into the city for a haircut at the fancy place that specializes in people with curly hair, Devachan. Got off the subway in SoHo and amidst the throng of tourists and shoppers, spotted Christian Siriano, the winner of last season's Project Runway, looking just as fierce and tiny as you'd imagine. I love him and think he is crazy talented. (It's almost more fun for me to spot a Project Runway designer than a movie star at this point). I ducked into the salon and emerged an hour later with some great curls. They did, however, refuse to do my bangs, since they apparently don't believe in any part of a curly-haired person's hair being straight. So picture the bangs a little wonky for the rest of my story.

I headed uptown to meet my best friend Alison for dinner between shows, as she is currently in previews for A Tale of Two Cities on the Broadway (go buy tickets). By the time I get to the theatre, the matinee has already let out and the stage door is swamped, but I run into a few actor friends I know and get caught up chatting so Alison has to come down and fetch me. We go into the theatre and walk up the crazy flights of stairs to her dressing room so she can show me the opening night dress she just bought. Speaking of fierce. On our way out, she walked me onstage to show me the set, (since I'm SUCH a good friend I haven't even seen her show yet), and even though the actor in me has long since passed away, it is still a magical experience to stand on a Broadway stage and look out at the empty theatre. I'm not even ashamed to say that, no matter how much of a theatre geek it makes me seem. It's just really, really cool. Romantic and inspiring and...magical. There, I said it. And I've only done it three different times, even though I've been in NYC for seven years and casting Broadway shows for over half that time. One was when Alison was in Fiddler on the Roof, and now both other times have been for a show in which James Barbour is the lead (the first was Jane Eyre and now, Tale of Two Cities). Maybe he's my lucky charm. I do love him. Or maybe Alison is. They're neck and neck at this point.

We got to dinner, and had one of those amazing conversations that you have with your best friend, especially when you haven't REALLY talk-talked in weeks, where we both cried a little and were reminded of who we really are and left feeling much better about life. Not that anything was even wrong with either of us going into the conversation. But we were so long overdue for a real chat that when Geoff and I had dinner with her and Stephen last weekend, we often left the guys out of the conversation quite by accident. After which Geoff STRONGLY encouraged us to make a date. And we did. And it was good for our souls.

After dinner I walked her back to the theatre for her evening show and then walked up 9th Avenue to meet my co-worker Stephen (different Stephen - who everyone in my life refers to as his nickname "Button", so as not to get my two Stephens confused) who was going to loan me a movie I wanted to watch tonight while Geoff is shooting this wedding. I had my iPod on and that 10 block walk up 9th Avenue was pretty awesome. Walking anywhere in NYC with your iPod on makes you feel like you're in a movie. You've got a great soundtrack, and you're watching those NYC movie montages live and in 3-D around you. The girl in a strapless print dress and spiky red hair hailing a cab. Couples dining al fresco and drinking wine at multiple cool restaurants. The old lady in a straw hat with her groceries. A girl with a pony tail walking her dog, and his expectant look as he waits for her to unlock the door to their building. A bus boy running from the bodega on the corner with a loaf of french bread back into the restaurant where he works, because they've clearly run out of bread. Parking lot attendants in navy blue uniforms watching the girls go by. Tourists (though they rarely make it further west than 8th Ave, another reason that 9th Ave is a much better place to take this walk) discussing the finer points of Phantom of the Opera or Wicked or whatever other brilliant piece of theatre they experienced at the matinee. Guys sitting at a sports bar way too early in the evening. Hot dog vendors making a deal. Three girlfriends emerging from a shop together, laughing. The dancers rehearsing at the Alvin Ailey School. And the amazing photos at the Alvin Ailey building that actually move as you walk past them. Picture all of this going on around you while Bruce Springsteen (Thunder Road), Melissa Etheridge (Breathe) Frou Frou (It's Good to Be in Love), Death Cab For Cutie (Your Heart is an Empty Room), MercyMe (Here With Me) or Kelly Clarkson (Gone) play in surround-sound just for you. It's one of those things that I love about New York. That I can have such a full and vivid and romantic and interesting 10 block walk and feel like I just wrapped a scene from Gossip Girl (if I was far younger and ridiculously good looking) or Sex and the City (though I would have had to be in the Meatpacking District or the Upper West Side and in much more enviable shoes). And no one can even tell what I'm thinking. To them I'm just the girl with the yellow purse and wonky bangs smiling slightly to herself while she listens to her iPod. They don't know that I've just had my own personal movie montage. And I didn't even have to pay $10.50 for it.