The wife and I are in New York for an overnight trip. We went last night to see Ricky Martin in concert at Radio City Music Hall. That's right, Ricky Martin. Go ahead, giggle a little--I did when I first heard we were going (that's right, it was her idea). But you know, it was an awesome show and we had a lot of fun. No U2, but it was pretty good.
But what I kept thinking about last night were the little signs that life throws at you, and that I'm glad I've learned to notice and follow them. We'd been planning this trip for a couple months, but just booked our hotel a month ago, and hadn't made dinner reservations till Sunday. I chose a place based largely on its website, proximity to our hotel, and the fact that it looked cool. We got here yesterday afternoon, checked in, then walked up to Central Park to look around a bit. We had early reservations so we'd have plenty of time to eat before the show. I knew Diana wasn't 100% about the restaurant I'd chosen, so we looked around at other places as we walked, and considered changing plans. At 5PM, pretty much everywhere looked empty. So at the last minute we decided to stick with our plan and go to our original choice. We walked in and were literally one of two couples in the restaurant. The place was empty except for us and the wait staff--awkward! We sat down and looked at the menu, and while I was fine with it, Diana wasn't sure. Then our waiter came over and was really nice, and then told her what she'd been dying to hear--yes, they have baked potatoes even though they're not on the menu. After 2 weeks on Jenny Craig, that's what she was craving. So we decided to stay, and chose a bottle of wine called "Three Legged Dog", which seemed extremely apropos for a couple of dog lovers like us. It was excellent, as was the meal, totally decadent and indulgent, and our waiter was really really nice, which always makes things enjoyable. So dinner was fantastic, and the reason we stayed was the "Three Legged Dog", which reinforced our instinct to always follow the dogs.
We're staying at the Warwick Hotel, which is a place we've stayed before, a bit on the pricey side, but very nice. We debated about whether to stay here again or to try someplace cheaper, but we decided to stick with what we knew and play it safe. Totally worth it--the room is HUGE by New York standards and very nice and clean and comfortable. It's worth it to have a nice, welcoming sanctuary to come back to after being out on the mean streets. And of course, "Warwick" is connected to the town I grew up in and we lived before in Rhode Island (West Warwick), and also happens to be the place where we going to see Pavarotti perform in England (Warwick Castle). Just following the signs.
And the show was terrific. I really was indifferent about seeing Ricky, but I was psyched to see Radio City for the first time. It's absolutely fabulous, all Art Deco luxury and poshness. The crowd was the most diverse I've ever seen--lots of Latin folks, lots of young/middle-age women and their reluctant husbands (that's me), lots of gay men. We happened to have seats in the upper balcony with a great view and three of the drunkest and gayest men (I mean that in the most loving way, I swear) I've seen in a long time sitting in front of us. It made it that much more enjoyable--I've realized that seeing live music is as much about the people around you as the performer. One of the guys really knew how to salsa, so he kept getting up and dancing in the aisle, and even though surprisingly few people around us stood to dance, we actually did a couple times. The show was great, the music was totally infectious and impossible to not get carried away with, and frankly, that Ricky Martin is one sexy guy. And he kept talking about how he's all about not caring what people think, not judging or worrying about being judged, which is exactly the idea I'm trying to carry with me now, so I thought it was really great for us.
All in all, a great little break from the world. And now today, we get to laugh at all the suckers at work today!
It's damn cold here. Hard to get the chill out of your bones. Fortunately for all of us, I am man! I bring fire! Actually, there really is something viscerally satisfying about knowing how to light a good fire. I've definitely gotten the hang of it this year, and that cast-iron fireback we added really amps up the heat. This evening Diana and Trixie and Lucy got nice and toasty in just a few minutes in front of it. Alas, it's downstairs, and our warm, cozy bed is upstairs, so we only get to enjoy it for a little bit. But it's still worth it to see the dogs go over one by one and park their little butts in front of the fire and get all warm and happy.
