I met Robert for lunch at Southpoint, at Panera's. The traffic getting there was unfuckingbelievable. As it turned out there were multiple accidents on 40W, which had caused bumper to bumper traffic starting at the second airport exit. I crossed three lanes, and got off on the Page Road exit to try 54W. This, too, turned out to be an absolute nightmare of traffic.
I called Robert a couple of times en route, frustrated, doubting I would be able to make it in time. He was very patient, and said he didn't mind waiting if I didn't mind coming. I trudged on.
I finally got there at 12:30, enjoyed my sandwich and chatting with him, and was glad he'd urged me on. At our cars, he returned The Five People You Meet in Heaven to me, and we shared a kiss on the lips goodbye.
Back at the house, I had a short Sametime conversation with Loretta and Cassandra, and packed. I left the house at about 2:45. I parked in my usual place, Lot 3, made sure my car was locked, and that I had my keys, and caught the bus to terminal C.
I had already checked in on the Internet, and wasn't checking any bags, so I proceeded directly to security at the entrance to the gates. That chore was uneventful, and I arrived at my gate in plenty of time for my 4:45 flight. In fact, it was close to 3:30 now, and I noticed a 4:00 flight also going to JFK. I asked about moving up to that flight, and was allowed to. This would be great, getting me to NYC 45 minutes earlier, increasing my chance of getting a ticket to an 8:00 play.
I took the AirTrain to the Jamaica Station, where I bought a $7.00 metro ticket -- $5 to pay for the AirTrain ride I just took, and the other $2 for the metro into Manhattan. The last time I did this, I paid $45 for a taxi in. I had asked an attendant which train to get on and he had replied, "Take the E-train to 42nd St." Well, as it turned out, the E-train did not stop at 42nd. I saw something like 63rd, as the stop numbers were decreasing each time, and then a long ride with no stop, and when it did it was 36th. Huh? I got off on the next stop, which I think was 23rd, and asked another attendant.
He said, "Get on the E-train going uptown, and get off at 42nd, and when you get off there, take the crossover to 7th Avenue. This was the same train I had just come downtown on. Oh well. I got on it, and once again, this train did not stop at 42nd. So, I got off on 53rd. Up on the street, I asked a policeman, or some sort of security guard which way Times Square was, and he said, "That's too far to walk," as he eyed my luggage. "Where are you going?"
"Well, I'm actually north of Times Square at the Sheraton."
"That's a long way," he said again.
I was getting a little irritated now, as I know how far I can walk, and I've been walking five miles lately at the gym. "Just tell me which way it is, and I'll catch a cab when I've walked far enough."
He pointed me, and I went on. As it turns out, the Sheraton is right between 51st and 52nd, it was practically right there when I got over to 7th Avenue, which was only the second block over. It was no problem walking.
I checked in, changed my clothes, as it had been raining, and I was a little sweaty and a little wet from the trip in to the city from the airport. I grabbed my umbrella, and went out "exploring." I stopped at the 810 Deli, which is where mom and dad and I ate a few times when we were here in March. I had a NY Deli Turkey Club sandwich.
I left there, and walked in the downtown direction, and as soon as I got to 51st, and saw a huge sign down the road that said, "Wicked." Just what I wanted to see! I went over to the theater to see what was going on. It was about 7:40 now, and when I asked the attendant, "Don't laugh. Are there any tickets available for tonight? A single ticket even?" he said, "There's a cancellation line; that's the only possibility for tonight."
There were about 30 people in this line, which was served in a first in, first served fashion. I got in the back, but wasn't at all hopeful for a ticket. They had to wait until the last minute, that is until right at 8:00, to see if they were going to get any cancellations, and they had only let about four people in. I decided that the chances were too slim to wait any longer, and left.
I went back to the room, and watched some of 48 Hours and wrote out about 15 postcards. I sent a couple of funny ones, the funniest probably being the one I sent to Rhonda, my officemate at work, with the jazz singer dancing down "Broadway." I sent a cute one to my sister with some kittens in some socks hanging from a line, and another cat one to Robert from the cat in the window. I sent a card with a "naked cowboy" on the front of it to Van and Adam. The rest were "standard cards" that I sent to my relatives -- they actually had the New York Public Library on them.
At about 9:30, I headed out to the NYC Eagle. I took the 1,3,6,9 train downtown, and got off on 28th Street. I at first walked in the wrong direction, unknowingly, but when came to 6th Avenue (from 7th), turned around. I walked 4 long blocks to 554 West 28th Street, between 10th & 11th Avenues. Thank goodness I had followed these two guys from about 8th Avenue, because the door wasn't at all marked with the name of the bar, and I don't think the street address was over the door.
Once in, I read a huge sign they had posted on the wall that started off, "Last week, a gay guy was beat to death between 9th and 10th Avenue..." Scary.
I did not talk to a soul in this bar. Sometimes I wonder how in the world I am an extrovert. There was one guy who really caught my eye, and I caught his eye on mine one or two times. I even ended up moving next to him after a while, but neither one of us said anything the entire night. He was one of the very, very few other people there in shorts, and he had great legs. I very easily could have opened with, "Do you bike?" Oh well.
I had one $6.00 Bourbon and Diet Coke, did a lot of people-watching, and left about about midnight. I caught a cab back to Times Square. At that hour, and after reading that sign, I wasn't walking anywhere. Fortunately, there were about three other clubs on that street, and the cabs just kept streaming by.
Back in the room, I turned on the TV, and the nightly recast of Oprah was on. I watched it for a little while. It was not one of her better shows, in my opinion. I haven't seen many, of course, but of the ones I have seen this one didn't quite make the mark.