Family of One Celebrates Christmas in New York, 2010

As I looked forward to my annual New York trip to celebrate Christmas, I realized that I needed some serious downtime without my usual spreadsheet approach to the city wherein every hour is filled in with some fun activity. I decided to do something unprecedented and just go where I felt like going at the time. I made a couple of restaurant reservations, made an appointment with my beloved Meme at Think Pink for mani, made plans to see a new friend, and anticipated a few days at a brand new hotel, the Gansevoort Park.

I am happy to report that this approach was a great success.

When I travel alone overseas, I always make sure that I have something planned every day lest I end up lolling the day away over espresso in the hotel dining room. And, now, I think, what exactly would be wrong with that?

But, I digress. The New York trip was filled, of course, with fabulous meals at places new like db moderne where I loved the energy and the coq au vin and Oceana where I had the delight of having the same wonderful waiter that I had met at Toqueville earlier this year and where I had the pleasure of a perfect, if simple, meal—exquisite East Coast oysters, Maine lobster, striped bass, and housemade gnocchi—in a bustling, but warm, atmosphere. I saw the tree at the Met, I reflected at the stately Temple of Dendur, I shopped, I had a mid-morning Coke at the newly-revamped Plaza Hotel, I drank fabulous champagne sent over by the manager at the Modern bar where I have enjoyed so many wonderful meals this year. I had a memorable meal at Eleven Madison Park, prepared for me by Chef Humm, and was given a most marvelous gift by my friends there—the largest bottle possible of Woodford Reserve.

But, I must share with you two of the four days which were so remarkable, one in its almost magical connection with a great love and one in its almost magical connection to new adventures.

Just before coming to NYC, I heard from my former partner, G, with whom I have had sporadic communication for the past year. He was going to be in New York where he lives part-time, so we agreed to have dinner on Sunday evening after I arrived there in morning. I called him when I got to NYC to confirm our dinner date and he asked if I would like to join him for brunch at one of our old favorites, EJ’s Luncheonette. At first, I demurred, but then I rethought it—what would be the harm in having brunch? I jumped in a cab and headed to his Park Avenue address. In the taxi, I reminded myself to stay in the moment and just go with whatever was presented to me. There would be time later to think over what happened and I had three more wonderful days to explore NYC.

On the surface, it appeared that we had a wonderful late breakfast at EJ’s where the corned beef hash is real corned beef, not from a can; we tried to see a movie, but it was sold out; we had a lovely dinner at Café Boulud; and we savored every second of The King’s Speech.

But, below the surface, the things that I learned were of Christmas gift proportions.

Two things that drove me crazy about G—and him crazy about me—were his penchant for doing last minute doodads that perpetually made us on the cusp of being late and slow response time in conversation. For the former, I would be on the verge of a small stroke by the time we finally left the house to get to dinner or the movie and the number of times that we had to revise our original schedule made me insane. As for the conversation, I was always convinced that what I was saying must not be interesting enough for him, so I would say something, wait about a minute, then try another conversational tangent. Christ, it was exhausting!! Because he would, of course, respond, to what I had originally said.

With no stake in a relationship, it was easy to sit back and observe how this could play out under less pressure-filled circumstances. Sure enough, soon after arriving at his lovely apartment overlooking Park Avenue, the phone was ringing and he was taking the calls and having 20 minute conversations. Today, I just smiled to myself, put my feet up on the couch, and read the NY Times. Soon enough, he was hungry enough to limit the calls. I noticed the conversational lull at dinner more than at brunch in the loud EJ’s, but, sure enough, the same old pattern started up. This time, I just stopped and let him take his time. Even if we sat there for three or four minutes. What did it matter? We were in a lovely place, enjoying world class cuisine (peekytoe crab salad with green apple gelee and crispy cod with Tandoori spices). And, it was just conversation, not earth-shattering confessions.

When we arrived at the afternoon The King’s Speech to discover that it was sold out, I had to suggest that we purchase tickets for the evening show. So, after the perfect amount of time at dinner, we were off for the movie with time to loiter in the lobby and choose seats with no sense of urgency. To me, perfection!

I wonder if you feel this same way about an ex. There are some moments that you long to re-create if only for just a few minutes. To re-experience one or two of the quotidian things that you naturally take for granted would be such a gift, you think. In this case, the moments for which I longed were to sit in a movie theater with G and to hear him call out as he was grading papers on a Sunday afternoon to come into the study with him and watch TV while he graded because he needed my presence in the room with him.

The aforementioned The King’s Speech provided the perfect venue for the movie as G and I were both completely enthralled and immediately fell back into our interpersonal code of raised eyebrows, muted laughs, and various facial expressions to convey our great affection for this wonderful movie. Earlier, I had returned to G’s apartment for a little while before strolling to Café Boulud. He invited me in and, as I headed for “my” sofa in the living room, he whisked me into his study, handed me the TV remote, and said, “now you sit in here with me while I answer some emails”. In a moment, I was back at his apartment in Stoughton on a Sunday afternoon, feeling cherished. But, now, it’s ten years later and we have both lived lifetimes that we could never convey to each other. But, for that hour, I remembered why I loved him so much and how many lovely times we had enjoyed.

I suppose it looks very foolish to admit this, but, I finally realized that, no matter what or who comes into our lives, G and I will always have a place for each that no one else can touch. Would I want him back? Probably not a good idea. But, to know that I can return from time to time to the places with him that were warm and positive is, indeed, a wonderful gift.

Monday was cold and sunny, the perfect day to explore New York. I asked the taxi driver to drop me off at the IFC Center where I was going to see Tiny Furniture. I had envisioned an inexpensive Asian lunch, the movie, coffee at someplace fab, then off to meet JP at the John Dory Oyster Bar. Instead, I spotted one of my perennial favorites, Lupa, from the taxi. Within minutes, I was perched at the bar with a glass of Prosecco, sunchoke soup with truffle oil, those fabulous sardines that Batali does so well, and freshly baked focaccia. And, chatting with an attorney from DC who had been to Lupa the night before, but was returning prior to a court date in Brooklyn, for one more helping of the bucatini.

Amazingly, the theater was about half full and it was divine to sit in an early afternoon movie with other like-minded folks enjoying the quirky and surprisingly heartfelt film.

Afterwards, I got about half a block before spotting the Pearl Oyster Bar where I immediately perched at the bar for a half dozen along with crispy fried shrimp and a glass of Sancerre. This time, I met the editor of the wonderful film The Kids Are All Right and I enjoyed talking movies and LA restaurants with his wife and him. So much fun to hear about the shooting of the film and the work that he did on it and to share that I, too, was an editor, but of a completely different sort.

I met JP at the way-too-hip lobby of the Ace Hotel where every conceivable seat in the lobby was taken by a twenty-something with at least two wires/machines attached in some way to his/her body. I barely had time to get out my blackberry and iPod when JP came over to escort me to the John Dory Oyster Bar, a nicely cavernous space with floor to ceiling windows looking out on the slightly seedy atmosphere of Broadway at 29th. We shared lobster chowder, Parker House rolls, littleneck clams, and mussels stuffed with chorizo and marvelous conversation about the professional, the personal, our dreams, our regrets. Off with JP with his brand-new iPad and I to my next stop.

I finished the evening at the Mandarin Oriental lobby bar where I always go for not only the pink cosmos and the stunning view of the East Side of Manhattan, but the company of my friends C and F who take very good care of me. On this night, F revealed that his best friend and new beau were also in the house. I smiled and continued pushing shuffle on my iPod. Suddenly, there appeared before me John Travolta’s doppelganger and a lovely Filipino fellow. The former kissed my hand with great authority and introduced himself as T, F’s best friend along with B, the dentist beau. They asked to join me. In minutes, we were laughing and screaming in the way that always annoys me when other tables are doing it.

I finished off my pumpkin spice cocktail and returned to my dream room at the Gansevoort Park South with its huge space, its Juliet balcony overlooking Les Halles as well as a huge swath of sky, its brand new bathroom with soaking tub and splendid shower, its sitting area, its giant TV. And, all within a walk of Madison Park and a quick, accessible cab ride to anyplace in the World’s Greatest City. What a fantastic day I had to savor!

Merry Christmas, 2010!!