NYC sous la pluie....

It rained every day for one week straight.

I reckon the theme of this trip was 'No Plans Allowed.' I had plans to spread out a picnic blanket in Central Park and work on my novel. I had plans to ride the Cyclone at Coney Island. I had plans to take the bus to Atlantic City to win one million dollars.

The morning of Atlantic City, Ryan bro-bro and I woke up early and headed to the cornershop to board our bus with the old gamblers. We even had matching outfits that day and were looking forward to finding gaudy sparkling Atlantic City visors for a thousand more photo opportunites of sequined pizazz. But the owner found us outside and told us there was a 'problem' and that we needed to hightail it down to 179th and Broadway to catch the bus. We hopped on the subway, never a thought of discouraging words passing though our minds, and found our fellow travelers waiting outside the Dominican cornershop.

When the bus driver arrived, there was a long pause as we saw him walking back and forth through the tinted windows of the bus and rearranging passengers. He opened the doors with a look of discern on his face and announced, "I have some really bad news. I can only take four of you. There are only four seats left."

There were about eight pushy old ladies who shoved up close to him and he was forced to select the Biggest Looking Spenders.

A big old New York City Waaaaaaaaaah, waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah seemed to rattle the George Washington Bridge and Ryan and I hung our heads low and shuffled into the cornershop for our $34 refund.

Regardless of losing out on my millions, I managed to have a grand old time anyway. I'm a fly-be-the-pant-of-my-seats kinda traveler anyway and it's all part of the big adventure of life, n'est-ce pas?

Some highlights included:

* August Osage County, a play originally from Chicago's Steppenwolf, starring Phylicia Rashad. Wonderful performances, though it's closing in two weeks.

*Vieux Farka Toure at the Highline Ballroom. A spirited Malian guitarist, son of Ali Farke Toure. If you have an opportunity to see an African performance, I guarantee you spirits will be lifted. They may sing of sad topics but rarely will you find a minor key.

*Screening of a Youssou N'Dour documentary "I Bring What I Love." A very important film for all Westerners to see...follows his journey of pushing boundaries in Senegal for singing about his Sufi-Muslim beliefs and proceeding to win a Grammy.

*Walking across the George Washington Bridge at night in the wind and rain singing Bon Jovi as we entered New Jersey.

*Attending the Mermaid Parade at Coney Island.

*Endless wandering.

Then I come home to Michael Jackson mania. Regardless of your opinions of how his life became a farce of the media, what a spirit. I hope they bring him back home to Gary. Build a new Graceland there.

Back to work....