I am currently harvesting PR grapes by the truckload. The grapes have been plucked from vines nurtured since my arrival in New York. As the clients and events will remain nameless, the experience will speak for itself on the pages of my portfolio and in the spotlight of interview. My cup overflows with gratitude; however, the empty light on my internal fuel gauge glares at me all day long - the weary of accomplishment.
So for the next couple of days, while I only have work to NOT write about, I will publish the past events of this last weekend. It was my birthday weekend, and I got the gift I wanted, the visit of my best friend.
Despite the tempestuous weather, subpar service from American Airlines and JFK airport in general, Ariel passed through the turnstiles of Sutphin St. and into my arms last week. She was what I wanted and she was what I got.
Tom, my boss, has really wanted to meet my wife, so Ariel accompanied me through the subway tubes of the 1 line and up the 28 floors of 750 Seventh on Friday to grant the request. While I worked, Ariel toured the surrounding streets and shopped some.
There was a certain sense of pride when I was able to show her the view from the glass corner conference room that overlooks Times Square. It's the kinda view that belongs in movies, like specifically the HBO production Too Big to Fail. They filmed it in my office.
We reconvened at three when I was let out of work for the holiday. Ariel and I then walked up 5th Ave., shopping and dreaming (more of the latter), and thinking what our life would be like if we lived out here. This particular weekend was a holiday and Fleet Week at that. Fleet Week is where all the service men and women from the National Guard, Navy and the Marines dock their vessels in New York City and sport their pressed military dress everywhere. It's something different. Apart from the chaotic and grunge of the the sidewalks and buildings you have the simple and clean uniforms of the nations finest. But the weekend festivities attract much more than just military personnel.
With the heightened amount of people in Times Square and New York in general, Ariel commented close to Rockefeller Plaza, "What are the odds that we would ever see anyone we know out here? New York is such a big place, even if we had friends it would be unlikely we would run into them." I nodded in agreement, there were just so many people everywhere
As Ariel purchased, packed and wore the completely wrong pair of shoes for such an occasion. We were forced to take refuge on a shade-covered path on the corner of Central Park and survey the damage to her feet. I've seen used fallout shelters that looked better. We were wondering what we should do next. We wanted to get something to eat, but I didn't know what Ariel wanted and we didn't know how far she could walk, especially on her war-torn soles.
While we sat on the park bench and scoured Google maps looking for answers. A friendly shadow with an even friendlier voice crept up beside me and started to laugh.
"Look at this. Look at this. What are the odds?" said Tom Goodman, my boss.
What were the odds? Not an hour before we mentioned this very un-probability, and sat under the covered park along 5th in disbelief.
He was so impressed that we happened to meet on the bench that he continued to sit with us for the space of ten minutes or so even though he was on his way home. He said he walks that particular shade-covered path when the weather is agreeable, because he gets exercise with a beautiful backdrop. The stars aligned and we all found ourselves laughing and enjoying each other's company.
Now Tom is the type of person that raises the morale and the confidence of everyone around him. He believes in the goodness of people and makes you feel like a million bucks. He just doesn't talk the talk, he walks the walk. He asked us, "Now what are you going to do next?"
I mentioned how we were looking for somewhere to eat. He instantly recommended a family place called
Il Vagabondo. He said Emeril loves the Veal Parmigana and it has an indoor Bocce court. The oldest one in the city actually. While we were sitting there he called ahead and said there were two good friends coming for dinner in about 30 minutes and were to be all taken care of. And when Tom said it he meant it.
He told us to ask for Charlie and shipped us on our way down a street waving his hands and telling us how much we would love it.
We did.
Il Vagabondo is very unobtrusive and genuine. There were ten or so happy, formally dressed Italians at the bar when we entered. Though some where yelling at each other and others laughing, they all seemed to be in the same group. We waded past them to get to the host. I asked for Charlie and the man behind the counter said, "Why? Does he owe you money?"
I, taken off guard, started to speak of the park meeting with Tom, which made him laugh.
"I'm Charlie," the middle-aged, charismatic Italian said. "We're gonna take good care of you."
He proceeded to show us around the place, from the bocce court in the back room, past the kitchen and to our table. He sat us down and told us someone would be with us shortly.
The food there was unbelievable. I had the Penne ala Vodka, which is my pasta weakness. Every cell in my body cries in joy at the scent of Penne ala Vodka and this was the best kind I've ever had. However, the Mrs. and I were most impressed with the eggplant spread that was brought out with our bread. It tasted similar to marinara sauce, but apparently was made out of something that I had written off as completely useless.
After we finished, Charlie came out and asked us if everything was good. We both responded with praises of the cuisine, the service and the atmosphere.
"Good, good, good. And if there is any desert or coffee we will get that for you now. If not, please enjoy the rest of your evening as Mr. Goodman has taken care of the bill."
Of course he did. He does everything and anything like that. We just smiled and didn't know what to say. That meal was a God-send on a hot day. A date with my wife in one of the best restaurants in New York was the best early birthday present I could have asked for. But the thing about Tom is that you don't have to. He knows what can make someone's day and delights in producing that very thing.
Ariel and I spent the rest of our night walking the streets of New York laughing and enjoying the fact that we weren't 2,000 miles away. It was good to have her here finally. It was comforting to finally take the box in my head with New York stuff in it and splice it with the box in my head of Ariel and home.
Though Friday was good, the rest of the weekend actually kept getting better.
I am sorry the images aren't very good. I forgot to get them off of Ariel's camera. These are courtesy of the Internet.
