AN 'EMPIRE STATE OF MIND' THANKSGIVING DINNER

I am a “Christmas” person. When I think of a quintessential holiday, Christmas has always been the one for me. It’s the “it” holiday; it takes me to a place that no other holiday can. First off, it doesn’t necessarily make me realize that I’m another year older. Secondly, I don’t become daunted with the gift-buying and gift-giving; it’s in my ‘giving’ nature to do just that, so the holiday serves as an extra-special time for that. Third, it is a reminder of something that is greater than any of us (from a belief standpoint, at least). Fourth, the cold weather and festiveness of Christmastime compares to no other holiday. And fifth, I don’t consider it a time when I find myself gorging on food.

Not to out-do the pomp and circumstance of a traditional Christmas dinner, but the winner of the “food” holiday of the year would have to go to Thanksgiving. Call it what you want: “Turkey Day,” “Gobble-gobble day,” and – to a much lamer extent – “The Day-before-black-Friday” holiday. Thanksgiving rivals Christmas as the most popular holiday of the year. Like its December counterpart, Thanksgiving is a special time for family and friends, and often serves as the pre-cursor to the height of the year-end holidays. There’s no stress about gift-shopping, and it’s a great time to sit-around with family and friends, share an amazingly-prepared meal, take in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade and a football game (or two) on TV, and exchange stories with loved-ones in-between visits to the Thanksgiving table.

For the past four years, I spent my Thanksgivings away from home. So this year was supposed to serve as my “homecoming” Thanksgiving. That didn’t exactly happen, however, as I decided to make plans with friends to spend a couple of days in New York City instead. Admittedly, I was secretly relieved that I wouldn’t have to play games with anyone’s Thanksgiving spread; anything to keep me from going back for seconds, thirds, and even possibly fourths. And let’s not even think about the desserts. Instead, I was content with the fact that my friends and I would have to make dinner reservations somewhere, and that after the servings were handed out that would be the end of it all. Apparently, we weren’t the only ones with the same bright idea… but then again, we were in New York City.

While our hotel was packed with visitors from across the globe, many of whom had no real idea of what the American ideals of Thanksgiving are, pockets of neighborhoods were pretty empty. Unless you found yourself in the middle of Times Square, which never seems to quiet down, you were most likely in a sparsely-populated part of town where businesses were closed, and folks were away for the holiday. Apparently, everyone in the East Village seemed to be at The Smith for Thanksgiving dinner. Lucky for us, so were we.

The American brasserie, which is a creation of native New Yorkers, Glann Harris and Jeffrey Lefcourt, sits in the heart of the East Village. From the street, you could see the restaurant filled with other patrons seeking to have their holiday fill. The overall feeling was that a lot of the guests that night were locals: students from NYU who stayed in town for the holiday, and neighborhood families who opted not to venture out of Manhattan. Then you had your sprinkle of out-of-towners simply looking for a prix fix “Thanksgiving” dinner. As you entered the restaurant, you were greeted with the sounds of bustling conversations amidst the clanging of silverware and stemware. Then you were hit with the smells of all things delicious as dishes were brought to tables from the super-busy kitchen.

Our waitress gave us a run-down of the menu, and let us know of the specials for the day –including a “turkey” special in honor of the holiday. My friends and I opted against the traditional Thanksgiving dinner since we were being anything BUT conventional, and we kicked-off our meal with an order of crispy calamari (Brooklyn style –ie, marinara sauce over top) and crawfish hush puppies (served with an Old Bay aioli). The comfort food continued with our main dishes, which ranged the breadth of a roasted pork chop to steamed mussels & frites to a hearty bowl of spaghetti & meatballs. The pork chop was cooked to perfection, and was served on a bed of sweet potato hash; perfectly marrying the sweet and saltiness of the dish. The pot of mussels simmered in a broth of chardonnay, tarragon and Dijon was served alongside shoe-string frites giving any Belgian brasserie a run for its money. And finally, a big bowl of spaghetti - complete with large and in-charge meatballs - easily made you feel like you were 10 years old again.

It certainly felt like we were eating at someone’s home, and our fatigue from the day began to mix in with our full bellies. If beds were on the menu, we would’ve ordered three easily. When it came time for dessert we couldn’t do it, and we were off to the street to walk-off the glaze of tiredness that was coming over us.

It wasn’t your traditional Thanksgiving dinner, but it was our Thanksgiving dinner. And when you find yourself in an empire state of mind, even on Thanksgiving day, there really isn’t anything else that would matter.

--
The Smith, 55 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10003, 212.420.9800

HELLO, THANKSGIVING...!

It baffles me that in less than two weeks, it will be Thanksgiving here in the US. I honestly feel like last year's Thanksgiving holiday barely left my memory-bank, and now I'm already faced with the so-called thrills of the upcoming holiday season. It seems that more and more I'm becoming less thrilled, and more numb to what was once the happiest time of the year... for me, at least. Hopefully, this year will be the start of something different, and maybe I'll get "that feeling" back.

Some friends and I will actually be making our way to NYC for a couple of days to attempt to cop a spot along the infamous Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade route. It'll be crazy, I'm sure, and I'm hoping and praying that the experience will be less 1) rainy, and 2) super cold. I think I have enough days to start a 9-day novena to ask for sunny skies and no rain for this year's event. Let's wait and see.

I'm pretty sure that we'll face annoyances from the crowds, perhaps the weather, and all the other stuff that is bound to happen. And our bus ride via one of the area "Chinatown Buses" will surely add to the festive air, I'm sure. But this is what we wanted, so this is what we're going to get: a do-it-once-in-your-life experience at the expense of not being around family on Thanksgiving Day. Some call it a curse to miss out on such a holiday, but I actually think it'll be a blessing in disguise. At least we won't be tempted to keep going back to a stacked table for more food. Instead, we will be enjoying our (one serving) Thanksgiving Day dinner at a fine restaurant in Manhattan, then be on our way to find a neighborhood bar where we can drink more calories. And then, perhaps, indulge in a little Black Friday holiday shopping for ourselves.

Sounds like a plan to me...!

(Photo courtesy of Jeff Christensen/AP file)

NYC / DAY THREE

We slowly got up Sunday morning. Aydee and I had originally planned on going to Mass, but since we weren't in bed till past 5AM, we were struggling to wake-up to make late check-out. Nevertheless, we eventually got started on our "short" long day ahead.

I checked us out of the hotel, and we left our bags with the concierge while we went to scope out an ATM. We were headed toward The Blarnery Stone again when we happened to stumble upon an ATM machine. Afterward, we headed toward Chinatown once more on foot. The plan was to meet Laya and Bernard for dim sum before we left for Port Authority. We met them outside Grand Harmony Palace (98 Mott St., Chinatown), which I believe I had been to once years before. For Sunday dim sum, the place was crowded as usual, and we were given a number. When we finally got called-in, we were a little disappointed that there was seriously like one cart going through a ballroom filled with packed tables. Some tables sat two or more parties together if there wasn't enough space available.

The worst part about it was that people were actually chasing the cart as it passed, instead of there being enough carts to even turn away! And the food we picked-up from the cart was cold by the time it was in front of our faces. Thankfully, the food was tasty... but it would've been tons better if it were warm. Oh well.

We parted ways with Laya and Bernard, and took a train back to the hotel. We picked-up our luggage, then went back underground to catch a train to Midtown. We laughed at each other as we experienced problems trying to bring our heavy luggage through the NYC Subway system's turnstiles. Uhh, let's update the system, NYC. Please. HA! After what seemed like forever, we finally arrived at Port Authority, and fell in line for our bus. Thankfully, there were enough seats for all of us, and we were soon on our way out of the city and onto the Jersey Turnpike. Thankfully, there wasn't much traffic, so we made it to the DC bus depot (in NoMa; North of Massachusetts Ave... who knew?!) at a decent time. We walked over to the Metro station, and took a train into the Financial District to Carrie's work. We hopped in her car, then headed to Bowie to get Gina's car.

Traveling along I-95, it felt good to be "home." We stopped in at Aydee's to drop her off, and to see Siena, who had prepared us "breakfast dinner." (Thanks, Sien!) We ate, had coffee, and told Siena all of the funny stories from NYC. Then Gina and I decided to call it a night, and she brought me home.

It was a great "quick" trip to NYC, and I'm really glad that I made it. I'm even more glad that Ay, Gina and Carrie were able to meet me. Bonus: seeing some of our friends who are now living in the city. It definitely was a "feel good" trip for me, and I am feeling the pull to relocate there more and more.

That said, it's time to set the wheels in motion.
--

***Photo of Grand Harmony Palace by RK Chin

NYC / DAY TWO (Part II)

(How sad is it that I had to separate the posts for Day Two?! HA!)

After I stuffed myself with cupcakes, I went out to look for Gina. She had ran into a bar to meet Laya, who was seated with a beer. Of course, I found them, and joined in. Carrie and Aydee stayed behind at Buttercup to wait for our other friend who was in town, Donn. So there we were sitting at P. D. O'Hurley's (174 W 72nd St., b/t Amsterdam & Columbus), an Irish pub with a real Irish bar tendress!

After a while, Donn finally arrived at Buttercup, and the three of them walked over to O'Hurley's. We all got re-aquainted, and another round of drinks came. Aydee and Donn decided to swoop-in next door at Grey's Papaya (2090 Broadway, b/w W 71st/Amsterdam & W 72nd) since Ay had never been. Next thing you know, we were on to round 3 at the bar. Knowing that we had a list of things to do still, I closed out the tab, and then we were off. Laya wanted to take us to a special "cookie" place that had been featured on The Food Network. We crossed Broadway, and headed towards W 74th. She took us to a tiny doorway to Levain Bakery (167 W 74th, UWS b/t Amsterdam & Columbus), a little shop that serves specialty cookies.

The shop's sign above the stairway

Going down the stairs into the tiny shop

The most amazing cookies EVER!

After the quick cookie-run, we walked toward Midtown. But first, Gina, Laya and I made a quick stop back at O'Hurley's to use the bathroom... AND to grab a shot. We drunk-walked towards Midtown, and I stopped in at a shoe store which Laya spoke highly of. Not even 5 minutes later, I walked out of the store with a new pair of boots, to which the gang applauded and called me "sucka!" Whatever. We finally reach a train station, and hopped on the next one headed to 42nd St.

We ascended from the station below onto the wrecklessly busy streets of Time Square. The alcohol plus the growing crowds, and the deafening sounds of car horns and chatter were making me ill as we walked toward Donn's hotel (Hilton Garden Inn). We stopped in at his hotel lobby to use the bathroom, then we were on foot again. We walked a few streets over to a place called Say Cheese (649 9th Ave., Midtown), which Ay also wanted to try. Half of the gang sat down for a bite, while the other half of us walked into Mercury Bar (659 9th Ave., Midtown) next door.

Gina and I sat down and each ordered beers. Carrie went to find a peanut vendor. The other three (Ay, Donn and Laya) sat down for grilled cheeses next door. When Carrie came into the bar, she sat down and instantaneously I had a feeling that she would make some kind of connection with our bar-tender, Jonathan. And sho' nuff, next thing you know they're chattin' it up while me and Gina keep making faces at each other as this was all happening. When Jonathan left a drink in front of Carrie, me and Gina stopped and listened in on their conversation:

CARRIE: What is this?

JONATHAN: What's your name?

CARRIE: Carrie.

JONATHAN: It's called the "Carrie," then.

BARF. GAG. BLEH.

By the time the rest of the gang arrived at the bar, Carrie had downed her drink, and Gina and I were on round 3, with a set of shots being poured out. We brought the rest of the gang up-to-speed with the Carrie/Jonathan banter, and somehow someone had blurted out that it was Carrie's birthday. It might've been Ay or Laya.

AY or LAYA: It's Carrie's birthday tonight! Give her a shot of tequila!

JONATHAN: (to Carrie) Oh, it's your birthday? I'll give you more than a shot of tequila... tonight.

Apparently, we all heard that last line, EXCEPT FOR CARRIE (of course). So in our drunken state-of-mind, we each reiterated the importance of coming back to Mercury Bar that night: so Carrie could get her swerve-on, and we could get our drink-on. There's something for everyone in NYC. Something for everyone!

We finally left, but we stopped to take a picture with a pig statue outside a place called Rudy's Bar & Grill (627 9th Ave., Midtown). Random, I know.

Rudy's

Gina and I with the pig statue outside Rudy's

We finally hopped on a train back to downtown, and got to the hotel to get ready for Carrie's birthday celebration. While Gina helped Carrie finish getting ready, Ay, Laya and I headed down to the hotel bar for a round of drinks. (Oh yes.) I closed the tab once G and Carrie made it down, and then we were back on a train headed toward NoLita. The restaurant we originally planned to go to could not sit our large party (which had grown as the night progressed). So thinking quick on our feet, we ended up at a spot right across the way: La Cave des Fondus (20 Prince St., NoLita b/t Mott & Elizabeth Streets). The restaurant is located underneath another restaurant/bar, so we had to descend a stony staircase lined with tea lights. It was almost as if we were going down some dank lair where a coven of vampires awaited us (I'm not obsessed with vampires; really I'm not). At the other side of a Medieval-style iron door was a quaint dining area with a bar, furnished in the style of an old French countryside inn: stone walls and floors accented with wooden pillars, tables and chairs. The strong scent of cheese filled the air, and the chatter of those already dining meshed along with the background music. As we waited for our table, we congregated by the bar, drank more, and caught-up with old friends from college (my old college roommate Rithy, and my FCA "ading" Donna to name a couple). Once we were seated, the wait staff went right to work. We ate like the French, which basically means that we ate minimally. And at $31 a pop, it was no joke that we were still unabashedly hungry. But we were out in the name of fun, so it didn't bother us.

After dinner, we skipped the original spot where we were supposed to grab drinks. Instead, we hopped on a train back to Midtown, and stopped in at The Cellar Bar @ The Bryant Park Hotel (40 W 40th St., Bryant Park). Laya's boyfriend, Bernard, got us in through a friend that was working at the lounge. Little did we know that the bar would turn into one of the city's hot spots at night. While the space was swank, it was crowded like no joke; seriously ANNOYINGLY so. But still, we did a round of drinks there before we decided that we should head out. We eventually found our way back to Mercury Bar (on foot), where we met up with another friend, Gwen, who had moved to the city. There, the party continued... the drinks flowed... and Jonathan did his part: he hooked us up with a couple of drinks, gave Carrie some "special" drinks, and even took a couple of pictures with her (pictures that I do NOT have). Gina and I won the award of being "the drunkest ever" that night, while Carrie slid on by.

Not realizing that we were losing an hour, and because NYC is super cool and did NOT call out "last call," we finally stumbled out around 4AM. We went to some random diner next door, which wasn't all that. Then we finally parted ways with our friend, Rithy, as he headed home to New Harlem, and we caught a cab back to the hotel.
--

***Photo of La Cave des Fondus from thrillist.com
***Photo of The Cellar Bar from worldsbestbars.com

NYC / DAY TWO (Part I)

Saturday, March 7, 2009. There's no better way to start a Saturday morning than with a fresh cup of Starbucks. Luckily, there was one right around the corner from the hotel. So we made our first stop of the day there. Soon after, we were headed towards Chinatown on foot.

We took the northeast length of Church St. towards NoLita. But once we hit Canal, we had entered the area more popularly known as NYC's Chinatown. NYC's Chinatown is a bastion of Chinese immigrant culture; a true mecca where East meets West. It may not be as "flowery" as San Francisco's Chinatown, but NYC's Chinatown is gritty, in-your-face, and you will find people from all sorts of backgrounds and creeds meeting at this epicenter for some of the best cheap eats and cheap buys in the city.

Countless store fronts offering everything from T-shirts, to "cubic" silver jewelry (one business woman described her jewelry as "cubic" silver, to which we quietly snickered), to the fakest of the fake in Prada, Balenciaga, and yes, even a "good" fake Muse by YSL (even I had to double-take that one). I scored an NYC onesie for my nephew, Noah, and the girls were on the hunt for a "good" fake bag. From past experience, Gina was keeping her ears in tune to shop keepers calling out "Gucci-Gucci, Prada-Prada" on the sides of the street; hoping to get one of the mythical invites to the big white vans, or to a shop keeper's "secret room." When she bit at the call of a random, younger-looking guy from the street, he led us into a huge store, and took us to a back door that he had to unlock with a key. Gina and Carrie followed him down the stairs, while Aydee and I stayed up front. It was straight out of a scene from a movie where friends get separated in a seedy part of Chinatown, and the two who were led away are then forced to live a life of slavery in some hidden sweatshop underneath the city streets. I was secretly prepping myself to lead a campain to save my missing friends, but then Gina resurfaced after a couple of minutes.

GINA: Wen, can you come down here? We need your expertise.

I felt like I was about to be betrayed by one of my best friends, so I pulled Aydee with me. At least the two of us would be gutsy enough to fight back if anything were to happen. What if we were pulled down to some back room, where Carrie was being interrogated by undercover cops? Or what if Gina had secretly been an agent for some underground Chinatown crime syndicate, and she was being paid gazillions to lead us to our fate?!

We followed Gina down into the basement of the building where boxes of shoes were piled up, ready to be shipped out or delivered to nearby stores. We kept walking towards a room, where we could see light peering out from the side of the hallway. I was almost certain that this was the end of the road for us all until I heard the conversation from inside:

GHETTO GIRL #1: Girl! I want this Coach bag! You think I can use this at church?

GHETTO GIRL #2: Emm-hmm! Lemme find out how much that cost... (calling to one of the workers) Excuse me! How much this is?! This one righ' hea'!?

At the other corner of the room stood Carrie, wide-eyed at the multitude of Chanel and Marc Jacobs knock-offs that were staring back at her. She didn't know what to do with herself. Almost instantly, I was being asked what I thought about this bag, or that. As if I actually knew what I was doing. So I reached deep inside myself to find my "fake bag detector" cap, put it on, and got to work. I'm not a Coach fan, and all the fakes were just a repulsive as the real ones. So I wasn't of much help with those, aside from checking on the quality of the bag's hardware, zippers, and/or pockets and straps. When Carrie was eyeing a fake Chanel, I steered her from plain, smooth leather(ette) bags, and told her to stick to textured looks.

WEN: If you're going to "fake it till you make it" (I stole that from Kimora), then it's better to go with something textured. Textured pieces tend to be harder to scrutinize.

She ended up with some random Coach carry-all, and a decent-looking Chanel tote. Gina was eyeing a Fendi. And although I pointed out that the Fs in the logo weren't as close together as the real ones are, we found one that was decent enough to pimp. When we were the last ones in the room, we bartered with the girl who was making deals with the customers, and she "gave us a deal" because we "look like Chinese." Wow. A moment where our Asianness worked in our favor. *TEAR*

When we finally ascended back from the secret bag dungeon, we were eyeing food. We ended up at some random spot at the corner of Walker and Baxter streets. The name of the place escapes me, but from the outside windows you could see roasted ducks hanging on one side, and yummy-looking desserts on the other.

Roasted Duck (and the reflection of the street against the glare of the window)

Desserts

The little restaurant was filled with Chinese patrons, along with obvious tourists. People were eating everything from duck to bowls of piping hot noodle soups, rice dishes, and dumplings. We all kept it simple. Aydee ordered a dish of fried rice, I ordered a combination plate of roast pork and roast duck over rice, and Gina and Carrie each ordered a plate of Beef and Pork in egg over rice dishes respectively.

Carrie's Dish Before...

Gina's Dish After...

After having our fill, we were back on-foot, and headed towards the nearest train station. Destination: Central Park. We were on the hunt for an uptown train. We found one around Mott and Canal, and we descended down to the train station below.

We got off somewhere between 60th and 70th, and walked towards the park along E 72nd. As big as it was, we barely scratched the surface. Carrie was on the search for landmarks from the movie, Enchanted. I have never seen the movie, so I was oblivious to it all. But she seemed to be elated once she saw the famed Bethesda Fountain at the heart of Central Park. The fountain was off, probably because of the winter weather still lingering around, and people had gathered around for a side show that was going on.

Bethesda Fountain, Central Park, NYC

After watching the show for about 15 minutes, we were on our way to the other side of the park. We continued on W 72nd, and were on the hunt for Buttercup Bake Shop (141 W 72nd St., b/t Amsterdam & Columbus). Buttercup is the brainchild of one of the originating founders of NYC's now legendary Magnolia Bake Shop, which is credited as the bakery that started the U.S.' growing obsession with cupcakes and cupcakeries. The shop is located on the business-lined stretch of W 72nd, between the busy streets of Amsterdam and Columbus. The flavors are plentiful, and the aroma of the freshly-baked cakes are tantalizing.

I quickly got to work, and started to survey the different flavors of cupcakes. I decided to get a handle on four: Red Velvet, Peanut Butter & Jelly, Buttercup Golden with Vanilla Icing, and Sour Cream Spice. I brought them to the table, and after examining them (and taking pictures) we took our forks and dug into each cupcake like a bunch of vultures. The red velvet was clearly a winner; easily ONE of the best red velvet cupcakes that I've ever had. But it wasn't the hands-down winner. That billing goes to peanut butter & jelly: peanut buttery cake with a grape jelly filling, and a peanuty icing. Simply amazing! The buttercup golden was good as well, but the spice cupcake was a little drier than the rest. All in all, it was a great experience.

NYC / DAY ONE

In my last post, I gave you a quick and dirty (sort of) glimpse of what went down in NYC. Unfortunately, I didn't have my USB chord with me because I left it in L.A. like an idiot. The thing is, now that I'm back, I've realized that I hadn't taken as many pictures as I had hoped. But that's just all a part of Wen's true style. Once inebriation in in full effect, pictures are more than likely not to come to fruition. Unless, of course, someone else is taking them.

Anyway.

In an effort to make-do with what I have, I shall now re-cap my NYC trip with what few pictures I do have to share. Hopefully, you'll find these stories (and photos) somewhat enjoyable. PS: some of the pictures aren't that great because I tend to refuse to play around with the camera's settings just to take a perfect picture. Blah-blah, I know. Whatever.

Shall we?!

---

Friday, March 6, 2009. At around 11am-ish my friend, Aydee, and I descended from our 36th-floor hotel room down to the hotel lobby to make our way to the South Street Seaport (Pier 17, near Downtown). The Seaport was merely a 10-minute walk from the hotel. Thankfully, the weather was decent, so we weren't in danger of freezing our bums off. Once we got there, we went through a few shops, and I was able to pick-up a couple of little things to bring home to Lexi (you gotta love random gift shops that sell Hello Kitty products).

When we finally got hungry, we started to walk-up to different restaurants to check out what was being served. Since it was a Friday --a Lenten Friday-- we had our restrictions: no meat. For me, the restrictions went a bit deeper since I also gave up fried food. So that narrowed our choices down to almost nothing. We were tempted by a random deli-style buffet spot, but the instant sight of the gloriously-fried orange chicken made us hiss like vampires that just came across blood. (OK, that means vegetarian vampires like Edward Cullen. Yes, I went there.) So after practically running out of that joint, we found ourselves outside of The Blarney Stone (121 Fulton St., Downtown) --a no-nonsense Irish pub that was a perfect mix of dank, dark, dingy, yet full of Northeastern Irish American charm.

Ironically, they didn't have much to offer for the practicing Catholic in terms of food. And even more ironic was the Latino "cook" behind the counter taking everyone's orders. After looking at what was available, I came to the conclusion that all I could really have was a plate of rice and beans. In an instant, the friendly cook was shoveling copious amounts of rice onto a plate, and then spattered an equal amount of red beans (my choice) alongside it. That was lunch for about $3. Aydee decided to go for a pre-mixed house salad for about the same price. It was "roughage" that she was looking for at this point. So we took our trays and walked over to an empty table for two. The table's legs were obviously un-even, and the slightest move caused a considerable amount of shaking; enough so that our plates could have easily slid off. But we didn't care. We were starving, and we were elated because of the Blarney's $5 Yeager Bombs! Yes, it was the weirdest "Irish pub" lunch of all time: house salad, rice & beans, and Yeager Bombs... two rounds of them.

An Irish Pub Lunch: Rice & Beans, and a House Salad

Yeager Bombs

Once lunch was over, we bid farewell to the Blarney, and laughed our way over to the Brooklyn Bridge. We somehow managed to walk to the first side-span of the bridge up till the first pylon. It took us over the banks of the East River. After circling the first pylon/tower, we headed back to the hotel to drop off the shopping bags.

We were prepping ourselves to make Happy Hour at The Skinny Bar & Lounge (174 Orchard St., LES) in the Lower East Side. HH at this spot starts at 5PM, and lasts till 9PM; a true God-send. We hopped in a cab, and made acquaintances with the driver, Ben, who had been driving a cab in the city for only about six months. An immigrant from the islands, he asked us about our nationality. When he heard us say "Filipino," he was all up on the political history of somewhat recent times: the fall of Marcos, the rise of Aquino, the People Power Revolution, etc. The scene was literally ripped off an episode of Taxi Cab Confessionals.

We weren't sure of the exact spot of the place, so Ben dropped us off at Canal and Orchard, and we walked north on Orchard toward Stanton. Orchard is a quiet, business-lined street. I was actually quite smitten as I heard a shop-owner call out to a patron at a rival shop across the way, "I've got the same items... but better and less expensive!" It was a fine NYC moment... for me, at least. When we crossed Delancey, I saw The Skinny ahead, where HH heaven awaited us.

We entered the empty space, music blaring in the background. A lone bar-tender, who we later found out was named Hillary, was prepping the bar for the night. It was already 5:30PM; a half-hour into the night's HH. We went right to work, and ordered the first round.

The night passed on, and we were pacing ourselves nicely. Drink after drink, shot after shot. Then just before 9PM, we closed out our tab at a beautiful $40-something, which was great considering we had been drinking non-stop since about 5:30PM. We tipped Hillary nicely because she gave us Washington Apple Shots (w/Maker's) on the house. And because of that nice tip, she gave Aydee and I another on-the-house shot: Birthday Cake Shots. It made my night, but ruined Aydee's. She headed to the bathroom, and after about 15 to 20 minutes of being in there, I went to check-in on her. NOT a good sight (this is why you eat rice & beans before drinking, and NOT a salad). I left her for another 10 to 15 minutes before grabbing the rest of our stuff, and going back into the bathroom to make the necessary assist. The bar had filled-up by this time, and I was trying to avoid any awkwardness with the line at the bathroom (PS: the locks on the bathroom doors did NOT work...).

You can use your imagination to deduce what took place then. I had to pseudo-sober myself to help Aydee out of the bar, and back into the streets. Luckily, we found a cab. I didn't get this driver's name, and I was urging him to hurry us back to the hotel while my friend gagged and dry-heaved (thank GOD she only dry-heaved!) all the way back. I brought Drunky McPhee up to the hotel room, and wished for something good to happen. After realizing that she was going to be OK (in other words, after she was passed-out), I headed back out, still pseudo-sober, and started towards the ATM. But my cell phone stopped me. I answered, and I was happy to hear a familiar voice on the opposite end.

CARRIE: Wen, we're coming up towards the hotel right now.

WEN: (looking around franctically) Where? Where are you?

Once I caught sight of Carrie, with Gina in tow right behind her, I let out a sigh of relief. As they crossed the street to where I was standing, another overly-drunk guy was stumbling all over the place just a few feet from me; he almost ran face-on into a street sign. This sent the three of us into a fit of uncontrollable laughter.

WEN: I'm so glad to see you guys! I felt so alone just now!

GINA: Oh my gosh, we missed the party. You're drunk!

WEN: And Aydee is passed-out!

ALL: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAH!

And SCENE.

We went upstairs to drop off their bags, and to check up on our drunk friend. She had party-fouled and threw-up a little on the hotel's comforter (Sorry, Millenium Hilton!), so we stripped the bed, got her some water, and strategically placed her lying on the bed with her head propped to the edge. A trash can was placed right underneath her head. When we knew she was OK, we went back out into the night, and took a cab to the East Village to meet up with our friend, Laya.

We were hungry, and and I was still drunk --although being in pseudo-sober mode I had made myself believe that I was actually sober. There was still 30 minutes before the clock struck midnight, so we quickly found a spot: Simone Martini Bar (134 First Ave. @ St. Mark's Place, East Village). The place was packed, but we were seated after a few minutes. The decor was a mixture of cheesy Russian "Amber Room"-like sculpted ceilings with Asiany lanterns and Buddha heads scattered all over the place. It was kitschy, yet sceney. The place reminded me of what would happen if West Hollywood's Bar Lubitsch had spawned off-spring with Hollywood's Geisha House, but less polished. Still, the air of the place was chill, loud, yet comfy. It felt like "home."

Because it was technically still Friday, we ended up ordering Lent-friendly. Carrie and I both got tuna salad sandwiches, and Gina ordered the Quiche Florentine. Oh, and we ordered a round of drinks. Halfway through that drink, I realized that I was still drunk; tanked almost. But as the night plowed on, we ordered yet another round, which was good for Gina and Carrie, but not-so-good for me. But I held on like a champ, and didn't allow myself to fall victim to the spirits of the bottle. Graceful drunkenness is something that I do best (most of the time).

When Laya could sense that Carrie and Gina were growing more and more tired by the minute, and after my friends called me out for slurring (and my eyes rollin' back to my head), it was obvious: we were done. Laya walked us towards the nearest train station, but only after we stopped at Ray's Pizza (2 St. Mark's Place, East Village) to pick-up some pastries: bread pudding, cheesecake slice, and a brioche bun. It would've been nice to order pizza, but we obviously weren't thinking right.

At the station, we hugged Laya "good-night," then hopped on the train back downtown. Within the hour, we were safe at the hotel, and were soon drifting asleep to the sounds of Aydee's worship session with the porcelain god.
--

***Photo of Simone shop front by Tracey Donvito; from Wikipages
***Photo of Simone interior by Lauren Klain Carton; from "New York Nightlife"

YOU CAN TAKE THE BOY OUT OF THE CITY...

...but you can't take the city out of the boy.

I spent the past few days traipsing along in NYC and in DC, and I reclaimed a sense of clarity that I had been seeking in the last few months. That's all I'm going to say on the subject while I continue to map-out my life in the next few days, weeks, months, and year. All I ask is that you wish me luck!
---

NYC

My mini-trip to NYC was nothing less than GREAT. I flew into JFK not having any expectations but to have a fun time with friends, and I ended up leaving with so much more. Again, I'll have to expound on that later. For now, I'll tell you about the little nooks that I found myself in while galavanting around.

Friday: I checked-in to my hotel room, and then walked to Century 21. Lots of neat stuff, but I was too sleepy to try to search for the "perfect buy." I gave up too easily, left to pick-up a toasted bagel across the way, then went back to my room to shower and wait for my friend, Aydee, to arrive. Once she got in, we took a walk down to South Street Seaport and shopped around. We grabbed a bite at The Blarney Stone, which thus started the weekend obsession with Irish pubs. (More details to come, along with pictures. I left my USB chord in L.A. like an idiot.) I will say this: $5 Yeager Bombs. Enough said. Afterward, we walked to The Brooklyn Bridge, and walked the distance toward the first part of the bridge that jutted out across the river. Surreal. Then we turned around to head back to the hotel to drop our stuff off.

We grabbed a cab, and headed towards The Village, and ended up at a bar called The Skinny. We were the happy hour winners of the night (and there's a great story to be told; again, I'll re-cap once I'm back in L.A.). After being there 3.5 hours, we cabbed it back to the hotel, where we met Carrie and Gina, who had just arrived from DC. After they got situated, we headed over to St. Mark's Sq. to meet our friend, Laya, at a lounge/restaurant called Simone. Before calling the night, we stopped in at Ray's Pizza NOT for pizza, but to pick-up some YUM-looking desserts: cheesecake slice, a brioche bun, and bread pudding.

Saturday: We grabbed a cup of Starbucks, then walked to Chinatown from the hotel. We followed someone quietly calling to us: "Gucci-Gucci, Prada-Prada." Next thing you know, we were being led into a basement area to find gazillions of fake designer handbags. It was hilarious and scary at the same time. Carrie and Gina each got away with some good buys, then we grabbed eats at a corner hole-in-the-wall spot. The name escapes me, but it was good... lots of cooked ducks hanging in the window. Gotta love NYC's Chinatown!

We then took the train uptown, and got off near Central Park. We walked thru, and got to see some interesting sights, including a side-show in front of Bethesda Fountain. When we were done, we walked to Buttercup Bake Shop to partake in their famous cupcakes. All I can say is "YUM." Honestly, they blow the likes of Sprinkles out of the water. Then we stopped in at a pub just a few doors away called P.D. O'Hurley's, where Laya was already seated with a brew. This started day two of drinking.

We took a quick detour to stop at Levain Bakery where they serve these amazingly FAT slobs of COOKIES. Di-freakin'-vine. Then we walked back to O'Hurley's to use the bathroom, and grab a shot.

We started to make our descent towards Midtown on foot, and along the way I stopped in at a random shoe store, and came out with a new pair of boots. It was a drunk purchase done under 5 minutes; a true self-talent (and in record time!) if I say so myself. We finally jumped on a train, and got to 42nd St. We walked over to our friend Donn's hotel lobby for another bathroom break, and then we headed to a spot called Say Cheese; they specialize in grilled cheese sandwiches. Half of the gang ate, while the other half (aka "The Drunk Half") walked next door to Mercury Bar to have more drinks. And did they flow.

We finally made it back to the hotel to prep for Carrie's b'day dinner, and some of us headed to the hotel bar to keep the buzz going. We finally hopped on the train, and headed to NoLita. Our original restaurant wouldn't seat our large party, so we ended up at La Cave Des Fondus - fondue spot (I will have to expound on this experience later as well). Then we headed back up to Midtown to peep The Cellar Bar at the Bryant Park Hotel. After being in that crowded mess for a good half hour, we walked back to Mercury Bar, and the night went on: libations and laughs to last us well into the next week.

Sunday: By this time, we were all hurting... bad. We checked-out, and walked back to Chinatown to meet Laya and her BF, Bernard, for dim sum. Then we went back to the hotel, grabbed our bags, and took the train back to Port Authority, and made our way home to DC.

DC

Monday: Like an idiot, I figured it would be a great idea to do DC on-foot since it had been a while. I took the train into the city, and got out at Foggy Bottom. I felt like a college student walking the streets of GWU with my messenger bag, and jeans/t-shirt on. I met up with Carrie, and we grabbed a bite at The Front Page, just off DuPont. After leaving her, I hopped on the train, and got off at Federal Triangle. I walked the length of The National Mall all the way to the National Museum of the Native American. It's such a great place, with awesome exhibits. You definitely have to check it out if you haven't already. After checking out the museum, I headed to the Penn Quarter, and met my friend, Leah, at Red Velvet cupcakes. I picked-up a dozen to bring to my brother's place. Then we walked over to the Hotel Monaco, and had a couple of drinks at Poste, one of my favorite restaurants in DC.

Tuesday: I spent the day with my nephew, and at night, I was able to head over to Old Town Alexandria (VA), and grabbed some sangria and Spanish tapas at La Tasca, one of my favorite tapas restaurants in the DC area. YUM.

Now it's mid-week. I have another dinner with friends tonight, and a few more days to enjoy before heading back to L.A.

More to come!