Reading: A Severed Head

Moving: walked a lot

Garden: none of that either

Watching: oddly, lots of the usual Sunday stuff

24 November 2002: Sunday in New York

Another leisurely morning--we'd eaten with Kymm after the play the night before; I felt like I was in Spain--and taxied to our other hotel, just north of Times Square. RDC wanted to return to Carnegie Deli. It was like Durham Park or whatever that hellish place in Faneuil Square is called. When EJB came up to Boston to visit RDC once, his brother-in-law suggested going there; RDC asked me about it and I hurled. The servers at Carnegie are not rude, but the portions are much more outrageous. RDC ordered a turkey sandwich, and what arrived would have put Dagwood to shame. It was breakfast, or a breakfasty time, so I ordered Challah French toast. I expected a couple of thick slices of, well, you know, French toast. Slices of challah bread, dipped in an egg batter, and lightly fried on each side. No no no. Three extra-big slices of challah, dipped in an egg batter, and then, OMFB, deep fried. Our server--a waitress just as old and exclusively female as those at Durham--patted my shoulder and congratulated me on a job well done when she cleared my empty plate. I also ate a couple of bits of bacon from RDC's sandwich because I am a sicko with a stomach the size of my right lung.

The walking, it was then essential. We walked down to Macy's, which I had never seen at all let alone at Christmastime. Its windows were all Muppeted and several thousand Kermit clones haunted the store. That's pretty much why I don't like character animals. All those cloned critter personalities. The first floor of Macy's was just beautiful, looking, except for its Weasley garden gnomes quantities of Kermits, just as I would have hoped. However, Macy's has clearly lost its soul. We climbed eight escalators--some of them looking as old as the store--nine floors worth of stuff--and found not a single toy display. "Miracle on 34th Street" can mean nothing to Macy's anymore. Beasts.

Macy's is just a block or two from the Empire State Building. I had never been up in a skyscraper in New York. I looked a long time from all sides and eventually straight up. A pair of peregrine falcons danced in the wind overhead. Frightful's descendents, stalking pigeons.

We climbed the last six flights to the observation deck, and down again. The woman directly below me on the stairs--not much, if any, older than I--had to hold on to both right and left railings and I wouldn't let myself push by her. Not without better cause.

That brunch was a little much. We ordered salads from room service and stayed in with the Simpsons and the Sopranos.