New York

I recently had the great fortune to travel to New York with my daughter, my dad, and my brother. We hit the ground running and never stopped. Even on the second day, when New York was hit by a blizzard, we kept running. We sloshed through icy puddles from dawn until way too late. We returned to the hotel three times to wring out our socks in the shower and dry our shoes with my hairdryer.

We visited Times Square on the eve of the Superbowl, ate from street vendors, climbed to the top of the Empire State building, saw a terrible movie at an artsy theater, conquered the subway system, visited the major sights, and ended each day with treats at an Italian bakery. Yes, treats each day.

Looking at our list we realized the only thing we hadn't experienced was a Broadway play. We were newly dry in our hairdryer blown shoes, and I had borrowed a pair of socks from my dad and pulled them up to my knees. We decided on one play we were all willing to see and pulled our scarves around our heads as we set out in the worst of the blizzard to obtain tickets. On the train we discussed it and decided we only wanted to buy the tickets if we could find a good deal and if four tickets were available together to the one and only play we had all agreed on. By the time we got to the discount ticket booth, we were soggy, shivering, and wiping the drips from our wet hair off of our cheeks before they froze there.

"Hi," I said to the man behind the glass at the ticket booth. "What do you have available for tonight?"
He told me that they had four tickets to the play we wanted to see and they were fifty percent off.
"Hmm," I told him. And then I walked away.

"Did you get the tickets?" Dad asked.
"I don't think I'm a Broadway person," I said.
"I would hate every minute of it," he said.
"I don't care if we go or not," Emery said.
"I fell asleep in the last two Broadway plays I tried to watch," my brother told me.

So we left empty handed and shivered ourselves to the Brooklyn Bridge instead and ended up eating at Katz's Deli where we were treated like tourists by our New York waiter. It was perfect.

With blisters on our feet and wet clothes shoved into our carry-ons, we boarded our plane home. Home was experiencing a severe blizzard, and I felt like an aeronautical cowboy as we landed in a windy whiteout.

I wouldn't change a thing about it.

Thank you New York!