…and not in the New England/Boston sense of ‘wow!’ or ‘awesome, dude!’.

Think evil. Think awful. Think sickening.

Rotten timing comes to mind as well… Her birthday was last May, but it took until November to get tickets to the Broadway production of ‘Wicked’ as her birthday present. It also seemed to take forever for the day to arrive, but finally the weekend was upon us.

I left work and drive down, trusting to my husbands GPS toy to get me down the familiar path most expeditiously, adventuring along new routes if it so directed me to.

And they were different indeed! Had there been no rain, no construction, and no traffic in all of New York City (like that has EVER happened???) the route it took me on might have been quicker. I’ll never know because the last two items are a constant in and around NYC…but I digress …I did get to Susan’s eventually, and it wasn’t my longest drive down. That record is still held by the nine and a half hour nightmare with Phil back in 2000, I think.

I unloaded, we gabbed, and then we hit the sack. The alarm was set to allow us a comfortable leave time of 9AM for lunch in midtown Manhattan before our 2PM show.

The morning news show gave us the bad news. A strike was called by the stagehands that began at 10AM that morning. It affected 22 out of the 27 or 28 Broadway shows, and yes, ‘Wicked’ was one of them.

We went to the theater anyway. The picketers were very polite, and even offered to take these pictures for us, handing us a sign as proof we got there, if nothing else. They caught me showing how I really felt about the whole mess.

There were a lot more adventures awaiting us in NY. Finding a place to eat was top of our list. We wanted a real restaurant, not a street peddler or a fast food joint. It had to be something with prices NOT in the stratosphere…and then we added things like…not in the mood for Italian, Chinese, or Thai. The Bubba Gump Shrimp Restaurant was packed wall-to-wall with a waiting list and time into the dinner crowd. My wonderful new boots began to inform me in no uncertain terms that a day of wear in a carpeted office was NOT the same as strolling the concrete of 42nd Street.

I walked gingerly on… we did find a suitable dining place where I collapsed and immediately ordered a glass of wine. It helped restore my spirits and my feet, but not my brain. I left my gloves there.

I insisted on taking the bus downtown to the ferry (the why we needed to take the ferry to get to the car is another story for another time) to admire the buildings and architecture. This also allowed us to get off at Ground Zero and check on the progress of the new building. I admit I saw only construction equipment, no actual ‘building’ a’ tall.

At this point we were halfway between 2 subway stops of the ferry. We decided to walk. My feet were NOT happy. I told them to stuff it. They retaliated by making my camera take many fuzzy pictures.

As we went through Battery Park, we saw several ‘living statues’— people covered in paint and drapery imitating the Statue of Liberty. They called out to us in heavy Mexican and Italian accents to come take a picture with them. As we got closer, we realized that they wanted to charge us $5 to have us use our own cameras to take pictures with them. How New York!


The real thing.

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