Took the Amtrak 172 NE Regional train on a Wednesday morning from Washington DC to New York City. The last stop on my 3 week travel odyssey. This city would be a little different; no hotels necessary. I have 2 beautiful, wonderful nieces living in NYC, Tara and her sister Megan. Tara just relocated a few weeks earlier but Megan is a big city veteran, having lived here 4 years. So she was gracious enough to let me bunk at her place for 2 nights on the Upper East Side. Here are some typical UES apartments, complete with those magical fire escapes we’ve all seen in the movies.
I got off the train in massive Penn Station, and stored my luggage for a few hours. Took a walk to Madison Avenue and met Meg to get her keys. Then I hopped on the Big Red tour bus to tour Manhattan for the afternoon. The free tour bus headphones talked about the city and the history while we drove around. I loved the ornate architecture on some of the federal buildings, courthouses and churches down near Wall Street.
Down one side of Manhattan and up the other finishing up near Broadway and Times Square.
I had purchased the deluxe tour package. Besides 48 hours that I could hop on and off the bus, it also included a ticket to the top of the Empire State Building and a ferry ticket to Liberty and Ellis Island. I still had time on this afternoon to visit the Empire State Building, saving the island trip for the next day. I had been to the top of the ESB before, but the views are outstanding no matter how many times you see them.
Took my one and only New York Lyft ride to gather my luggage and head to Meg’s apartment. Because of the demand and the traffic, ride shares in NYC are horribly expensive. Luckily, with a little patience, it’s easy to use the subway system there. Nobody drives. Everyone takes the subway everywhere. My nieces taught me to just look for the green and white balls to mark the entrance down to the trains. After settling in, I hopped on the Q train just a few blocks away and headed down to Broadway. Settled into an Irish Pub (I know. You’re shocked) to wait for my nieces before we took in a Broadway show.
Our show for the evening was Maybe Happy Ending, the Tony Award winner this past season for best musical of the year. It was a fun musical, about a couple of retired robots that fall in love. Late dinner after the show made for a great evening. Megan’s beau Greg joined us for the show and dinner.
The next morning it was time for a bagel and coffee at a neighborhood shop. Then down below the streets to the Q Line to go downtown and hop back on the tour bus. Through Soho, Chinatown, past the Brooklyn Bridge, Wall Street, etc, making my way down to Battery Park. The audio tour taught me about regular green street signs and brown ones. The brown ones identify historical streets or districts, and the name of the district is in fine print at the top of the street name.
The southern tip of Manhattan is called the Battery, named for the artillery battery of cannons that used to be positioned there for defense purposes. And that’s where the ferry departs for the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island. This was my first time viewing the Statue in person and I was awestruck. Close up, standing at the base and looking up at her, I couldn’t take my eyes off her. It so immense, and so detailed, and has meant so much to this country for so long. I can honestly say it was the most impressive tourist attraction I have ever witnessed.
And then, the intensity of the day increased even more as we ferried over to Ellis Island. Viewing the grand Registry Room, where millions of immigrants stood in line waiting for their opportunity to start their own American Dream. I can only assume that my great grandparents on both sides (British on my mother’s side; German and Irish on the Rowe side) came through Ellis Island after leaving Europe. It gave me chills.
The ferry returned to the city and I continued my emotional day by visiting the 9-11 site to see the Freedom Tower and the Reflection Pools. The names of every life lost on that day are engraved around the edge of the pool. The last time I had been to NYC was in 2002, the year after the tragedy. It was just a chain link fence around a pile of rubble at that time. 23 years later, it is an incredible site, full of majesty and honor.
And then finally, as I was walking away from the memorial site, I spotted O’Hara’s Irish Pub, just a few steps away from where the towers fell. The sign said the bar was established in 1983, so it had survived the destruction. I had to visit this place and have a Guinness. Walking inside this bar was the emotional climax to an already emotional day. Every square inch of wall space and ceiling space is covered with patches; patches of First Responders from around the country and around the world. These officers and firefighters from everywhere came into this bar in the past 2 dozen years and have proudly added their department patch to the tribute walls in honor of those lost. Wow. Just wow. Impressive and humbling.
The last evening of New York was originally scheduled to be one last football game. The Philadelphia Eagles were in town to play the Giants. But I had decided the night before to cancel that excursion. We would have had to take the train over to New Jersey to the stadium. And the game would end around 11:30. And from everything I had heard, the lines to get back on the NY bound subway after the game were horrible. It would have been about a 1am return. So we opted to stay local, visit a couple of bars, and then settle into Brandy’s Piano Bar a few blocks from the apartment. That was a great decision. The piano player William Hall was hilarious. And he could chug Jameson shots like a pro. And the waitress and the bartender were Broadway veterans who had chances to profile their talents throughout the evening. Obviously while waiting for their next big break, they spend their nights at Brandy’s entertaining the locals. It was a great finish to a great city and a great trip.
The next morning was back to reality. One more New York bagel and one more cup of coffee. Then one more subway trip to Penn Station. Then one more Amtrak ride back to Syracuse. A short ride later, I was back home to my lake paradise. A trip to be remembered to be sure, but as we all know, there’s no place like home. Coming next, one last blog to summarize my crazy adventure!
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