Tuesday, June 10, 2008

5 Hours in NYC and 1 Cell Phone Camera

5 Hours in NYC and 1 Cell Phone Camera


Over this past weekend my travels with NASCAR took me to the Poconos region of Pennsylvania. One of the perks of traveling to a different city each weekend is the opportunity to explore beyond the track's walls and take in the local culture. Little did I know it at the time, but we were within reach of New York City. We were exactly a short 1 hour and 48 minutes away to be exact. On Saturday the garage closed at 2:30pm which basically meant we had the rest of the day to ourselves. There was no sense in returning to the hotel to clock watch, and I cannot imagine what I would have devised to entertain myself, but honestly, there isn't a great deal of anything to do in Blakeslee, PA, unless you intend on hunting, fishing, camping, or skiing during the winter season. I, however, was fortunate to receive an invite to ride along with a few of NASCAR's finest mechanical engineers into the city for an evening of expedited siteseeing and a planned stop in Little Italy for dinner at one of NYC Italy's finest restaurants.


After parking and making our way out of the Port Authority, we had about 5 hours to spend downtown Manhattan since we needed to reserve time to drive back and settle in for the following morning's track activities. We wasted little time in making our way through Times Square and into Central Park. I was amazed to see how many people were out just enjoying life in the park. It was hot. I made the brutal mistake of wearing jeans. I had no idea where we were headed or if I would require something casual for dinner. At one point I even estimated the weather to be cool enough for a long sleeve shirt. I suppose the locals prefer the company of their neighbors in a charming place such as Central Park to a boring stuffy apartment somewhere tucked away in a high rise. Perhaps being clustered together on those grassy lawns extended the old adage that misery really does love company. Or, maybe I was too discontent with having worn jeans and was just constantly reminded by the sweat pouring off of my forehead. Overall, the excitement of being in the "big apple" trumped any discomfort I had dealing with the heat. I am a Florida boy afterall.

For those super fans that keep up with my blog or have been here since the beginning, you will recall that I made this trip to the city back in December 2005. Boredom and repition are feelings I may never have for visiting NYC. The city has a certain appeal. Whether it's the vast diversity of human beings, the collective unorganized-yet-efficient chaos, the variety of activities, or the intriguing quality of the architecture that is downtown Manhattan, I could look forward to visiting regularly. Or, if someday the opportunity presents itself, I might consider actually living in this urban mecca.

A poor selection of apparel to tour the city was mistake #1. Mistake #2 came quickly when I realized that I had no suitable camera to document my short visit. Graciously, I recalled having a trusty 1MP cell phone camera on hand for emergencies such as this. A 1MP camera, mind you, is hardly a camera in today's market of digital portable cameras and advanced cell phones. In good time, the trusty i870 Motorola will find a deep dark drawer to retire in once I make room for something a little more worthy of image capture. In this instance, I will spare you the complaining and whining of the lack of image quality and just move forward with presenting the best "Hello Moto" 2005 has to offer. A camera is a camera so long as the memory is captured, right? I should at least feel fortunate to have a piece of portable technology on hand to make the most of the few hours I had. In that vain, I shall digress and continue on with my trip report.


Upon exiting Central Park in search of the nearest subway station, we spotted a mammoth large glass cube resembling a monument. In the center, near the roofline, and suspending virtually weightless was the trademark logo of the white apple with a bite missing. We knew right away that either some artist had either created some piece of modern art paying homage to the cult-like computer company on the city's streets or somehow there was a magical doorway that led pedestrians into a virtual shopping world full of technical wonders manufactured on the opposite coast. It indeed was possibly one of the coolest Macintosh stores I have ever browsed. The entrance, set above the concrete jungle, was a simple circular staircase, made out of - you guessed it - glass, which led eager shoppers down into the subterranean technology shopper's paradise that Macintosh created. Inside there were tables showcasing the latest gadgets. The hoards of tourists and locals snatching up the trendy and pricy miniature techno-gizmos would rival the patronage of a gift shop near the exit of the Magic Kingdom during the park's closing hours. Had I observed this storefront entrance from above, the scene might have resembled a glass ant farm I once owned as a child.



After a thorough examination of some of the store's newest and most advanced wares, fighting a sudden urge to make an impulse purchase, and after having enjoyed some air conditioning, we resurfaced on the city streets to locate the nearest subway station. By this time in the early evening we had grown an appetite from our walk through Times Square and Central Park and were looking forward to arriving at an Italian restaurant that was highly recommended by another team member that had visited in a previous trip to the Poconos.

A swipe of the Metro Card and a short ride on the subway landed us on the streets of NYC's Little Italy. The district resembled the scene out of any great movie ever created depicting mobsters sitting to dinner. We made our way down Mulberry Street to Angelo's. Seating was limited indoors, so we settled for outdoor seating under an umbrella. Once the ice water was served and the first glass of red wine poured, the worries of the weekend melted away. Even more delectable was my dinner choice of Canneloni. Oh my word. I have never quite enjoyed Italian cuisine like I did on the sidewalk seating at Angelo's. The time slowed to a crawl. Each one of us fell silent and only spared a moment to comment on how f'ing awesome the food was. (Excuse the insinuated expletive, but in times of great frustration, or in our moment of grand exuberance, word choice is loose and non-specific in terms of expressing ones thoughts on a given moment.)


Dinner finally came to a close. Although most in this situation might complain about time moving quickly, I was admittedly gracious towards whatever phenomenon controls the space time continuum for slowing the clock so that each bite could be savored. Once the ticket and gratuity were settled, we mosied along Mulberry Street in search of dessert. The sweet tooth craving was easily satiated with an oversized serving of amaretto gelato. The cold treat closed out the evening in a refreshing fashion. My hosts spent a little time navigating the street vendors in search of faux time pieces or last minute trinkets to bring home to their significant others. I enjoyed a chat with the locals and settled on soaking in the dusk that quickly fell on New York City.


The early gesture offered by the spiritual force that gave us an extra moment at dinner quickly took back our borrowed time by speeding up the clock straight into the evening. We walked briskly back to the subway station, and in an instant we were back in the rental car on our way to the Poconos where an early alarm would wake us from that great, but brief experience in New York City.

I cannot thank the fellas enough that extended me an invitation to join them on this getaway visit to the city. I enjoyed their company immensely and look forward to future experiences while living and working on the road with NASCAR. Hopefully, my next effort to capture my surroundings will include a device more sophisticated than my trusty Motorola i870.

Thank you for stopping by. Check back often as new experiences on the road will be published right here.

All the best,

Eugenio

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