Saturday Night

Saturday morning, I got up bright and early and trekked over to the Upper West Side. They have a HomeGoods there, which as the equivalent of TJMaxx for ...homegoods, was promised to have all the decorations I needed to transform my once plain room into something worthy of Martha Stewart.

There was brunch at Viand, a cute little cafe whose brunch specials were quite good - though I wish I had asked for some tomatoes in my omelet. Fall makes me crave ratatoille. I might try to make some later - there's a Mark Bittman recipe that promises easy and minimalism. There's some promise in that.

Home Goods was like a mish mash of argyle pumpkins, and garden things. I got a ceramic fish, a box in the shape of war and peace, some fake plants (to go with my earthy rabbit lamp-jar), and a few desk items. Afterwards, I tried to take all this on the subway. Have you ever tried to carry branches in a small encramped space? It was wonderful - no one sat next to me, or even tried to stand near me. The only price was that I poked myself in the eye with a branch when I tried to fall asleep. Note to self, don't fall asleep near branches.

There was some napping, some setting up, and then I trekked back to into Manhattan. I watched the sunset on the Met rooftop, enjoying the sculpture gardens. Due to subway incompetence, I almost missed it. But at the last minute, I ran upstairs to find myself basking the last 45 minutes in the subset, reflected off Central Park nearby.

Dinner was at Burger Joint. I wish I had taken a photo. Imagine a classy, beautiful hotel. Le Parker Meridian, all tall glass and marble, and 60 degrees all summer long. And inside, are tall red drapes that should you walk into, contains a burger joint straight out of the East village. Small, cramped, full of writing on the wood panneled walls (full of scratches, and outdated pop culture movie posters.) It's considered one of the best burgers in New York. And I? I think it's better than Shake Shack. I know, blasphemy, but it is succulent, and tender, and diet free. It was a greasy, messy burger, and it was glorious.

We decided to walk down Manhattan after that. Let me put this in perspective. The Met is in the low 80s. The burger joint was in the 50's, and we ended up in Meat Packing and the West Village, which was past 1. So we walked most of Manhattan - and even more because we stopped along the way to walk along the Highline.

Highline park is a fantastic piece of urban architecture. It used to be a railroad that was converted into an urban park/walkway. Hipsters, seniors, tourists, and my coworkers and I walked through just as it was about to close, getting a beautiful look at the city as we walked the entire length.

Which dropped us off near Meat Packing. It's literally a district where meat is processed. But nestled near by are couture fashion houses, and dinky places that open up to amazing clubs. This sort of mish-mash is also paralleled in the population. For every dirty Jersey shore Jersian, you also have models, and places where exclusivity means you must show up before 11 unless you're on a list.

We stopped by Brass Monkey, got a drink, and when the place began to fill it was time to go.

West Village. By far the place I've spent the most time. It's quieter than the East village, full of cobblestone roads, and a history of artists tripsing about before it became one of the most expensive places in NYC. There was a Belgian bar with an outside courtyard hiden by pizza joints near by - and we sat and had some framboise. Enjoying hte last bit of heat in the night.

By then we were just a bit tired, which meant - fried chicken. Bon Chon was decided upon, and we went - with chicken so spicy even I teared up.

And then I began to pass out, waking up to a new coworker putting a glass of water in my face, and me clearly disagreeing with that. And the night was done. I put myself on the subway, and woke up one stop before my stop to a nice gay hipster waving at me.

And then I slept.