Cyber Friends and Tourist Trends

It began last night at “Blind Tiger” while Alana and I enjoyed pints of something pale and foamy called “Allabash White” (a beer whose real name I can’t remember for the life of me): I finally met the flesh and blood version of a friend with whom I’ve only shared electronic correspondence up until now. It was similar to meeting a pen pal only less of a surprise due to the magic of webcams.
Scott McAuslan walked up to me wearing a pair of mostly-for-looks glasses and a half-grin that said, “so this is how tall you are.” We hugged and laughed and took a moment to let it sink in that we were actually occupying the same space and time zone.
Upon introducing Scott to Alana there was an instant amiability and as soon as casual conversation began between the three of us it was clearly understood that we wouldn’t be bored with each other any time in the near future. The three of us left the pub and headed back toward the flat with a careless indecision as to what our plan of action was to be for the remainder of the evening.
What started as a quick break at the homestead turned into a lengthy conversation punctuated by countless cigarettes, several beers, and a genuinely stimulating set of topics including but not limited to: the relationship between religion and ethnicity, specific forms of intellectual superiority as they are stereotyped people of different races, and the development and disbursement of iPhone applications.
(You can take the boy out of the literati...)

By the time Scott bid Alana and me good night the three of us were silent in our resolve to maintain the clearly blossoming friendship.

I went to sleep contemplating the days to come and the freedom I would soon find upon copying Alana’s house keys.

Oh, the places I’d go. Oh, the people I’d see.


I’ll admit I was a bit lax in forcing myself out of bed Saturday morning. I think the slight amount of jet lag I had been too thrilled to notice upon arrival was finally taking its toll.

I eventually coaxed my tired bones into the shower and made a mission of finding a new place to obtain a cup of coffee. I didn’t have to go far. Across Bleecker street is a lovely little corner cafe called “Amy’s Bread” and I had been informed by Alana that both she and Drew made regular appearances and thus were on moderately familiar terms with all of the staff (in the world of food service I was well aware of the fact that this most likely meant the two of them occasionally received their caffeine and sugar free of charge. I may or may not have made it my own secret goal to achieve such familiarity).
Borrowing Alana’s keys I made my way across the thoroughfare to see just how many people I had to impress before finally being able to call myself a “regular”. I’ll admit that I was somewhat surprised to find that within a space of about 350 square feet there were still five employees shuffling busily behind the small cafe bar. I ordered my americano along with a ham and cheese on ciabatta and attempted to use my most winning smile.
Everyone was kind enough but let’s just say the next smile is going to have to be something of a championship.

I spent the next half hour wandering about the neighborhood trying to locate a place where I could have the house keys duplicated and finally found an ACE Hardware on 3rd. While having my keys cut I was informed by the attendant that they were at present out of the generic bronze renditions of one of the keys I would be copying. Therefore he offered me an array of novelty keys with everything from neon leopard print to Mets logos. Not finding any of them particularly appealing I left the decision up to him: exiting the store approximately four minutes later I was less than excited to show Alana the brown, beige, and black camouflage atrocity I had so generously been gifted by the local hardware emporium. I think I would have rather gone with the leopard print.

It was at this point that Todd called.

Todd Raina Pinsonneault is yet another internet friend with whom I had shared an exclusively web-based relationship. Having met him through my dear friend Lucie I was quite happy imagining the both of us calling her and synchronously informing her of how much love was waiting for her on the east coast.

Todd was on the subway heading in my direction and we planned to simply walk about town for a bit exploring the nooks and crannies. It’s funny how the simplest of plans can quickly develop in the grandest of activities.

Following the first greeting, hug, and moment of “well, it looks like I can’t un-friend you on Facebook now”, Todd and I began walking towards 6th Avenue on Bleecker.

“Have you been to Union Square?” he asked me as we reached the busy cross streets where Bleecker crosses 6th.
“I sure haven’t,” I replied with a shrug and a smile.
“Well then let’s head in that direction first and see how we feel once we get there.”

How we felt ended up being quiet adventurous. From Union Square with its crowd of purveying artists and gawking tourists we set out to find coffee which led us to the Midtown ACE Hotel (for the record: much friendlier than the ACE Hardware) and ultimately Stumptown Coffee.

Stepping into the familiarly decorated and staffed cafe I was immediately teleported back to 10th and Stark in downtown Portland. Completing the west coast reminiscences was Daniel, a formerly Portland-based Stumptown barista with floor plans tattooed on his arms. He recognized me and welcomed me excitedly to what had only recently become his new home as well.
Todd and I ordered our coffee and decided to enjoy it in the comfort of the ACE lobby which was simply a larger-scale rendition of the lobby in Portland I had haunted so frequently during my days as an angsty PSU student.

Entertainingly enough, as we sat sipping and chatting, a couple climbed into the instant photo booth next to our couch and deposited payment for their foursome of photographs only to be abruptly called away. What with the machine already in action and no subject matter to capture, the empty closet-sized space flashed its quartet of blinding whiteness and I laughed at the peculiarity of such an occurrence. My ambitious curiosity had me hawk-eyeing the slot where the strip of film would show up after development. Sure enough, once the slim rectangular bit of monochrome jumped into view I snatched it up greedily. The four gray scale panels contained a repetition of lonely emptiness which I happened to find quite fascinating. I had never encountered a completely absent set of prints before. From the capturing to the captured there existed no humanity at all. It was as if the whole concept occurred outside of comfortable reality. And all for only $4.

Once we finished our drinks Todd and I headed back into the chilled evening air. With the increase of darkness came an increase of cold. The climate combined with my contemplative cup of coffee of course prompted me to crave a bit of nicotine.
If there’s one thing that will end my terrible, cancerous habit it will be the $11 per pack I’ll be paying for what used to be a mere $5.99.
Gotta love New York capitalism.

By that point it was dark, brisk, and still quite early. Then Todd had the brilliant idea to visit Times Square considering my never have been there before. He was giddy as a school boy to be the one introducing me to what he referred to as “one of his favorite places on Earth.” I was pretty ambivalent about the whole notion.

Who am I kidding? I was jumping up and down practically howling with excitement.

What began as a stroll down Broadway quickly evolved into a hasty trot as I sensed the electric crackle of enumerable neon lights and flashing cameras. By the time we reached the red-lit steps in the main area of the square I was aware of little more than the intoxicating sensation of disbelief filling my every limb.

It was so much better in real life.

We sat for a bit and just took the whole spectacle in: hundreds of people from a plethora of nationalities speaking twenty different languages striking a gaggle of poses.

“I’m going to be on one of these one day,” I informed Todd matter-of-factly gesturing to the myriad of illuminated surfaces bordering the traffic and tourists.

“Which one?” he asked with an air of amusement.

Looking around it was difficult to decide just where I wanted to end up amidst the frenetic squalor and bursting chaos. And then I saw it, just above the enormous Coca-Cola LED screen. My panel.

“There,” I pointed excitedly, “right above the huge bottle of Coke.”

“I’d say that’s just about perfect for you,” responded Todd through a genuine smile.

Once we’d had our fill of the strobing lights and teeming masses Todd once again suggested a perfect destination.

We walked for about ten minuted before finally arriving at the spot: we were going ice skating at Rockefeller Center. Obtaining our rental skates and tickets we exchanged them for our shoes and laced up tight for what would prove to be a lesson in dodging small children who must have been born with no motor skills whatsoever.

Stepping onto the gleaming ice just as the Zamboni finished its rounds, Todd and I took about two minutes to get our skating legs and then proceeded to zoom around the rink for nearly 45 minutes with not a slip or tumble the entire time.
I couldn’t say the same for the girl who spent about ten years getting through with a single round considering her vice-grip to the side railing and complete lack of coordination. However her banana yellow pants certainly provided ample warning to anyone not wanting to come into unfriendly contact with her nearly sedentary form. Todd and I made something of a game of trying to figure out the genders of the showboat skaters who couldn’t resist pulling a few stunts and tricks in the center of the rink. Somehow nearly all of them seemed completely indecisive as to which side they wished to belong. Somehow I am pretty certain they weren’t exactly trying to be progressive.


Several circuits later we agreed upon one thing: we were freezing cold and deathly hungry. Making our way back to Bleecker St. we kept our eyes peeled for any place that seemed to offer a hearty burger. We were feeling très Americana. En route we happened upon one of the many H&Ms in the city and what with Todd’s desire to step up his sartorial standards (not to mention he’d never been to one) I insisted we take a whirlwind tour just to give him a taste of the magic that is affordable style.

Yes, alright, yes. I bought something. A sweater.


But it was only $10 and it has a wolf on it. A WOLF!
And it’s cold here so who’s to judge the purchase of an inexpensive form of self-sustenance?

(I’m not actually interested in an answer.)

Following the shopping we stumbled upon the Silver Spur, a traditional diner-style burger joint complete with black and white checkered floors and stainless steel chairs.
I had something involving ham, onions, and bacon. Todd had something involving cheese, BBQ sauce, and bacon. We were both mostly into the bacon.

Following a seductively creamy piece of carrot cake the two of us were properly stuffed (with leftover sweet potato fries in a doggy bag) and shuffled home. By that hour it was colder than it had been the whole day and I opted to wear my new sweater in an effort to combat the elements (see, it was NECESSARY).

Once home Todd and I were introduced to Alana’s friend Anne who was bombastic and cheerful. Her enthusiasm for life seemed entirely contagious and even though us boys were well tuckered out we still managed to keep up our spirits for a round of thorough laughter and a few yoga poses (the yoga part was just me).

Todd and I then retired to the comforts of a movie and some much-needed down time.

Just before bed I decided to realize a dream I’ve had since the night my darling Aunt Linda gave me a copy of Chris Botti’s album, To Love Again: a New York roof top, glass of wine, cigarette, and smoothly haunting Jazz.
Seeing as how there was an apparent lack of wine I opted for Budweiser (would you believe I’d never had the stuff before in my life?). And while it was no Cabernet Sauvignon it wasn’t entirely regrettable either.

I remember looking around me and seeing the mosaic border of contrasting roof lines biting into the starlit sky and thinking, “this is all I’ve ever wanted. Really it is. And I’ve got it.”

It was enough to make me completely lose myself in staring up at the new orientation of the Big Dipper without a care in the world...

...if it wasn’t for the Catholic primary school bell tower blundering into my thoughts with a juggernaut tone of hourly announcement.
Slightly jarred I still allowed the romance of a church bell filter through the night air. Right up until the final chime...which didn’t sound.

Apparently the final toll was silent as a result of that particular bell being in a state of disrepair but Todd and I burst into laughter at the awkwardly ruined anticipation.

Our laughs eventually took us back down to my room where we attempted to stay up talking about schooling, work, the future and a number of other pleasantries. But by the third or fourth collective yawn we knew we were fighting a losing battle and decided to call it a night.

And once again I drifted off to sleep with the symphony of street noises reminding me that this adventure was still little more than infant in its development.

What would the next day hold? And what might I see and learn?

‘Twas all up to fate.
And that’s just how I like it.