Tuesday, March 07, 2006
The houseguests keep rolling in. Anthony, in search of the urbane New York experience, arranged to come here with a friend from Chicago and meet some friends of his from Montreal. So he and Monique stayed with me while some the remainder stayed in a hotel.
It was my responsibility to arrange some fairly significant details for the eight of us around dinner clubs, brunch, etc. So I booked us into dinner in Chelsea and brunch in the trendy Meat Packing District and some dancing in clubs nearby.
The Canadians arrived on Friday at my apartment to wait for Anthony and Monique’s flight to get in. For some reason having five French Canadians show up at my doorstep threw me off guard -I was nervous. (I’m not the self-confident person I like to think I am, after all.) And after three of them entered the apartment I closed the door.
Effie: Where are the rest of them?
Me: Their flight has not gotten in yet.
Effie: What are you talking about?
Me: Their flight hasn’t gotten in yet!
Effie: No. Eftehita and John!
Horrified, I opened the door to find them on the other side looking stunned. Let the social atrocities begin.
And the rest of the weekend as a bit of a blur. Not that it’s so different than what I usually do hanging out here, but I had the responsibility of coordinating eight people, finding stuff to do in the daytime, and not being able to sleep in all day contributed to sheer exhaustion.
Nonetheless the weekend was a lot of fun. Anthony’s friends were gracious and fun-loving. Monique, an aspiring model who never passed a billboard without saying “It’s going to be me on that, just wait!” seemed infatuated with the city. I hadn’t the heart to dilute her dreams by explaining that she’s one of thousands that come here only to end up waiting tables in the Upper East Side or temping in a payroll department. (Who and I to be so jaded?)
So after great meals, shopping in SoHo, trips to museums and to the ER (don’t ask), the weekend ended. I was exhausted.
On another note, I saw Traviata again. God, it was good. You see there are those that enjoy the trendy nightlife, dancing and drinking of this city. Then there are people like me who simply want to enjoy its culture. Trendy and cool I am not. . . I’m out of my element booking trendy restaurants and clubs. Cultural experiences are more my shtick.
It was my responsibility to arrange some fairly significant details for the eight of us around dinner clubs, brunch, etc. So I booked us into dinner in Chelsea and brunch in the trendy Meat Packing District and some dancing in clubs nearby.
The Canadians arrived on Friday at my apartment to wait for Anthony and Monique’s flight to get in. For some reason having five French Canadians show up at my doorstep threw me off guard -I was nervous. (I’m not the self-confident person I like to think I am, after all.) And after three of them entered the apartment I closed the door.
Effie: Where are the rest of them?
Me: Their flight has not gotten in yet.
Effie: What are you talking about?
Me: Their flight hasn’t gotten in yet!
Effie: No. Eftehita and John!
Horrified, I opened the door to find them on the other side looking stunned. Let the social atrocities begin.
And the rest of the weekend as a bit of a blur. Not that it’s so different than what I usually do hanging out here, but I had the responsibility of coordinating eight people, finding stuff to do in the daytime, and not being able to sleep in all day contributed to sheer exhaustion.
Nonetheless the weekend was a lot of fun. Anthony’s friends were gracious and fun-loving. Monique, an aspiring model who never passed a billboard without saying “It’s going to be me on that, just wait!” seemed infatuated with the city. I hadn’t the heart to dilute her dreams by explaining that she’s one of thousands that come here only to end up waiting tables in the Upper East Side or temping in a payroll department. (Who and I to be so jaded?)
So after great meals, shopping in SoHo, trips to museums and to the ER (don’t ask), the weekend ended. I was exhausted.
On another note, I saw Traviata again. God, it was good. You see there are those that enjoy the trendy nightlife, dancing and drinking of this city. Then there are people like me who simply want to enjoy its culture. Trendy and cool I am not. . . I’m out of my element booking trendy restaurants and clubs. Cultural experiences are more my shtick.
# posted by otas : 7:01 AM
