Bagpipes in Grand Central

I woke up this morning wishing there were a way I could phone in my lab work.

It’s one of those Mondays where I need to go to the Cancer Center only to have my blood drawn and tested. I ride the train into the City, walk the ten or so blocks to the doctor’s office, get stuck with a needle, turn around and walk back to Grand Central for the ride home. It’s a lot of effort for such a short process. If any of you have figured a way to do this via email, please let me know!

Today was special; New York displayed its finest “something’s happening” vibe in honor of St. Patrick’s Day. The inbound train was full of people wearing green t-shirts, some printed with very clever sayings like “Irish Whiskey Makes Me Frisky.” Grand Central acted as pre-staging area for uniformed groups of marchers to meet before heading over to their actual parade staging stations. And of course, Irish of all nationalities and ethnicities were out in full force.

Back in Grand Central, there were indeed bagpipers in kilts prolonging the festivities, taking advantage of the tremendous acoustics, and getting photographed with and for the tourists.

I love the way New York can party right in the midst of daily life.

I love/hate New York

In a recent email, a friend reminded me that I hate New York City. That was true many years ago, when he lived on the east coast. My relationship with the City has gone through many phases over the years, and in the last decade, my feelings have swung more and more toward “like” than “dislike.”

For a long time, I lived in the suburbs, and traveled into the City not more than once or twice a year. But now I have clients in Manhattan, a daughter who lives and works there, and a medical team I must visit regularly. It might be different if I had to commute every day, but for now, I relish my trips in to soak up the complex City atmosphere.

Last night I attended a very NYC event with my daughter, an event that showcased the best and worst of the City. She had received free tickets from TimeOut New York magazine, to a SHOWTIME screening of two upcoming television season premiers: Weeds, returning for a third season, and Californication, a brand new show. Where else but maybe California can you expect to preview two such sophisticated-trashy shows in a theater, be served drinks and food afterward, and leave with a gift bag including a DVD of an entire season of Weeds?

That was the positive, I-love-New-York, side of the evening.

On the flip side, free giveaways tend to encourage the most careless, stepping-on-toes, behavior, and New Yorkers take that me-first aggressiveness to rude heights. The after-party felt more like a wrestling match.

The disregard for personal space in crowds is something New Yorkers come to expect, but it always offends my senses. We emerged from the theater into the humid, sticky night, and didn’t find much relief as noises, smells, and flashing lights bounced off all surfaces in the concrete canyon.

This is starting to sound like complaining, and I don’t really mean it that way. Cranky as I am, I had fun last night. I loved being able to share the experience with my daughter, and the shows were funny and enjoyable.

Everything has so many sides….