I’m back from my trip to New York. I went to drop off my 18 year old daughter to an internship at Putnam. (You can see her blog here) Now she’s off all by herself–well I mean she’s not technically by herself, since there are approximately a gazillion other people living in New York, many of whom sing karaoke songs in the subway terminals and ask you for money. Some of those singers, by the way, are darn good which I think should be worrisome for all those people who go to New York to make it in Broadway musicals. Listen up guys, you’re just one bad audition away from singing in the subway.
But I digress, here are my thoughts on New York City.
The cool parts:
1) Madame Tussauds wax museum where my daughter took multiple pictures of me snuggling up to George Clooney until she finally said, Mom, would you let go of George. You’re obsessing over him.
2) Meeting my editors and all of the cool publishing people. After getting hopelessly lost on the subway system, I took a quick tour of Putnam and met a legion of marketing people. I suggested that they rough up any bookstore owners who wouldn’t stock large quantities of my novel.
The next day I went out to breakfast with Walker people and got a tour of that office. One of the editors had brought her dog with her to work. How nice is that? If I ever get a real job I want one where I can bring my dog with me.
3) Riding the subway is oddly like being on an amusement park ride. I always had to stifle the urge to raise my hands and yell, “Wahoo!” (My daughter had already informed me to stop acting like a tourist.)
1) Mile after mile of skyscrapers. It reminded me of being in one of those corn mazes, but without the refreshing smell of corn, and with a whole bunch of aggressive, angry drivers.
2) Crossing the streets. For some unknown reason no one in New York pays any attention to traffic signals. Crossing the street is like having a death wish, really.
3) New York seems to have an overabundance of strange people living there. I met several of them, like the guy who wore a napkin on his head in our first restaurant, the woman who for no apparent reason yelled, “What’s wrong with you people?” while we walked past her, and the guy in the airport who cornered me and tried to convince me that George Bush had personally taken explosives to the twin towers and blown them up. I wanted to tell him that, No it couldn’t have been George Bush because I know for a fact that it was aliens. But I thought he might believe me.
All in all a fun trip, and suddenly that scene from Disney’s Hercules makes perfect sense