A McTour of New York City—Part 2
First, we needed breakfast. We’re so used to only staying in hotels with free breakfasts (one of the necessities of having a big family) that it threw us for a bit of a loop to actually have to go buy our own. Fortunately, we found a place only a couple of blocks north of the Sheraton:
The Tisserie.
This was a tiny little pastry-and-coffee shop attached to a different hotel. Let’s see if I can remember why we chose this place.
Oh, right. That. Anyway, we placed our orders: I couldn't decide between an apple turnover and a chocolate croissant. So I got both, plus regular ol' coffee. Julie got a cinnamon roll and a mocha-frappalattespressaccino something-or-other. She was excited because they did the “draw a shape in the cream” thing that I guess the fancy places do now.
Then we dove in. Everything was excellent. Great coffee, and pastries that were so light and flaky and melt-in-your-mouth delicious that it seemed a crime to eat them. We were seriously loving life, wondering how the rest of the day was possibly going to top—
Hold on.
Is that…?
Oh, no. No! Not this place, too! I dug through the rest of my apple turnover and had my worst fears confirmed.
Dead grapes! They did it again! Why on earth do people feel the need to ruin perfectly good apple pastries with dead grapes?? Once again, I was forced to perform emergency surgery in order to remove every last raisin and save the pastry. Thankfully, they at least didn’t feel the need to put dead grapes in the chocolate croissant, so the meal was saved.
From there, we walked another two blocks. Our friend had wanted to give Julie a birthday gift during her visit, so she’d made an appointment for Julie to have her hair done at a salon, just for a little pampering. On the way, we finally answered the age-old question: How do you get to Carnegie Hall?
Easy. You walk.
Now I had a choice. I could sit in a salon watching Julie get her hair done, or I could wander New York City in the morning sunlight.
I started walking. I’d never seen Rockefeller Center before, so I figured: why not? The walk was easy—several blocks east and a few south—and the weather was fairly warm, so it made for a gorgeous morning in the city. I enjoyed exploring the city.
Just before I got to Rockefeller Center, I saw S
t. Patrick’s Cathedral. The doors weren’t open, but the light and shadows were playing some neat tricks on the façade.
I turned the corner and found the famous Rockefeller Center skating rink, still going strong even in mid-March.
Nearby was a
Lego Store, and although it wasn’t open yet, I could see a giant Lego re-creation of Rockefeller Center in the display window. Why would you want to look at the real thing when you could see the Lego version nearby?
I figured Julie was almost done with her appointment, so I started walking back. On the way, I noticed that the doors to St. Patrick’s Cathedral were now open, so I figured: what the heck.
It’s amazing inside. Incredible stone work and stained-glass windows. They don’t build places like this anymore.
Even though I only lingered inside for five minutes or so, it was time well spent. I was glad I got to see it.
I made it back to the salon and rejoined Julie. She was looking as gorgeous as ever.
Our next order of business was to get on the subway. You may have heard horror stories of the NY subway in the past, but it’s not a bad way to get around the city at all. It’s just an old system, so the stations themselves feel a little dark and dingy. But we had no issues whatsoever. The hardest parts are deciphering the map in order to figure out which train you want to take, and then entering the station on the correct side of the street, depending on whether you’re going uptown (north) or downtown (south). We did well with the first task, but messed up the second. In the smaller stations, there’s no way to cross the tracks to the other side. So you have to go back up to street level, cross the street, and find the other entrance to the station.
We caught the R train heading downtown. As we rode, I noticed a sign on the train I’d never seen before. Apparently this is a problem in New York?
I’d mentioned earlier that the last time we’d visited New York City, we’d been to the top of the World Trade Center, back in May of 2001. Now we were here to pay our respects to the people who had died in the terrible attacks in September of that same year.
We got off the train at the Cordtlandt Street station and had to walk a couple of blocks west to get to the WTC site. We could see the new One World Trade Center building now standing proudly over the memorial site.
That weird-looking…thing…at the bottom is part of the new train station they’re building. It had a special name, but it’s escaping me now.
The
9/11 Memorial encompasses several blocks, covering the area where both towers previously stood. There is a museum devoted to the history of the attack and the recovery, but unfortunately we didn’t have the time to go in and explore it. But we did want to see the memorial and just reflect on that horrible day and the lives lost.
I’m sure we all remember where we were when we got word of the attacks. I was at work—I didn’t even have any kids yet (Julie was pregnant with Sarah at the time). At first, I’d heard a plane had hit a World Trade Center building, and I thought it was probably a little two-seater propeller plane that had gotten too close and glanced the building or something. Not that they allow those planes over Manhattan, but what did I know?
Then I remember hearing word of a second plane, and suddenly the world shifted on its axis. I remember trying to get on CNN’s website, and it was so overloaded that it was completely shut down. Clearly, something major was happening.
Some of us in the office found an ancient tube TV and plugged it in, manipulating the antenna until we could get the over-the-air feed from ABC. And there we all stood, transfixed, as the news just got worse and worse as the day went on.
It’s weird, the things you remember at times like that. I distinctly remember watching the news when one of my co-workers asked out of nowhere, “Is Peter Jennings dying his hair?” I remember staring at her, incredulous, for several seconds.
Eventually, the office sent us home. Julie was teaching at the time, and her school dismissed early as well. We met at our house, still watching the news, wondering what kind of world we were bringing our baby into.
The 9/11 Memorial is a masterpiece of simplicity. They preserved the footprints of both towers, marking where they once stood. In place of the towers is a massive square, forever leaving the space empty. Water flows down the sides of the square foundations, collecting into a pool and then draining into the center, flowing down and out of sight. Etched on the sides of each foundation are the names of those innocents who lost their lives on September 11, 2001. I found it incredibly moving and appropriate. In several places, family members and friends had left white roses within the names of their loved ones.
I was going to continue on, but I don’t think there’s any way for me to gracefully or appropriately continue on in my usual goofy tone. I’ll pick up the next chapter with the rest of our NYC visit.
Coming Up Next: A bit more WTC area wandering, lunch, and Aladdin!