If I can (buh-buh!) make it there…

The “I-love-New-York-or-some-neighbourhood-thereof” song seems to be a staple of most musicals set in or around New York City (with the possible exception of Rent, which has instead an “I-love-Santa-Fe-because-New-York-sucks” song). Anyway, I won’t bore you with Sinatra or Kelly or even Daddy Warbucks. Instead, I will bore you with pictures. But not too many, because my camera sometimes looks like it’s off when it’s not and then the battery dies a long, horrible death. Stupid digital photography.

So, because last week was my reading week, I decided it might be a good time to visit my cousin, Katie, in New York City. Keep in mind that traveling independently and hanging out with each other has been a childish dream of most of us cousins (ten in all) since we were very small. So we’re a little bit older than the Famous Five now. So sue me.

Our cousin Emily, who lives in Montreal and goes to McGill, was supposed to hang out with us on Sunday on her way back to Pennsylvania where her folks live, but her alarm didn’t go off and she missed her train to NYC. We were sad. The above is a picture of Katie phoning my mom to get Emily’s cell number, which it turns out I had all along but didn’t know was current. Don’t you love me and my family already?

Well, it’s OK if you don’t, because after Katie met me at LaGuardia, we decided to go downtown to a margarita place near NYU and eat and drink and such. That is consolation enough.

Then we were joined by Katie’s boyfriend, Steve, whom I had never before met.

They look cold, but cute, waiting for the subway.

Now, something else you should know about my cousins is that any sort of get-together is 99% composed of eating. So, on Saturday afternoon, Katie and Steve took me to an awesome cheese shop where they have everything and let you sample anything you think you might be interested in buying.

Katie bought some old, crunchy orange cheese called Roomano; Steve got some goat cheese from Vermont. We also picked up a little bloomy cheese we weren’t able to try in the store because it comes in discrete rounds in plastic tubs. It’s called La Tur, and it’s made with three kinds of milk. The little placard beside it in the display said it was like ice cream, but not sweet.

As Katie is showing you in the picture, La Tur is magic cheese. You could totally eat an entire round of it with a spoon for dessert. Well, maybe *you* couldn’t, but *I* could.

That night, we were headed out to a comedy club, but, first, we stopped at Katie’s favourite Middle Eastern restaurant. See, I warned you about the food.

The reason there are so many more pictures of Katie eating than me eating is because I look like, “Hey, I’m tryin’ to EAT here! Put that camera away!” but Katie is actually photogenic. Anyhow, here’s me at the Laugh Lounge with some of Katie’s coworkers:

See, I told you I’m not photogenic. Our table was right at the front, where some comedians will sometimes pick on you, but nobody picked on us. There was a guy way at the back who’d had one too many and had to be hauled away by the bouncers at the end of the night. Usually, stand-up comedy makes me cringe because three-quarters of it’s about perpetuating stereotypes and judging people based on their ethnicity/gender/sexuality whatever. Not that all jokes about gender are sexist or all jokes about ethnic groups are racist, but, you know what? They usually are*. The first comedian did make me cringe, and the emcee sometimes wavered on the borderline (although I respect him for arguing that making jokes about stereotypes that affect you takes away their power; I just happen to think that it also gives the tacit okay on perpetuating stereotypes. Anyway). The third and last comedian seemed funny, except I wasn’t familiar with the celebrities he was making fun of, and drunken hecklers kept interrupting him**. I liked the middle guy a lot, though.

So naturally, the next morning, we decided to go to The Strand Bookstore; unfortunately, this is about when my camera ran out. But I *do* have a picture of Katie eating the giant truffle she bought at Max Brenner’s, a ridiculously overpriced but oh-so-good gourmet chocolate store/restaurant.

Later, we got hot chocolate there, and it was like that bit in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory where Mr. Wonka dips a mug into the river of molten chocolate and hands it to Charlie. So yeah.

We also saw Avenue Q, where I discovered that, actually, I know the show fairly well, having listened to the soundtrack innumerable times. It’s a really fun show – Sesame Street for recent college graduates (um, although what’s up with that puppet sex scene? Riiiiiiight… And some of those animations don’t look very professional.) I did end up wondering what exactly it is that makes this show suitable for the stage rather than the screen – it seems like it would work much better on film. Don’t get me wrong, it’s funny and the puppeteers are talented and the mise-en-scene is oh-so-clever. But it seems like half of the reason it’s on Broadway and not CBS is so the performers can show off their ingenious solutions to the problems that arise because they’re onstage and not onscreen. Anyway, we enjoyed the show, so go and see it. I hear it’s coming to Toronto soon.

I guess that’s not exactly the *end* of my New York adventures, since I still have (due to strange circumstances) a one-way student bus ticket from Toronto to NYC that’s good for a whole year. But it’s end enough for this blog entry. Alas, New York. [insert your own random song lyric here – “It’s a hell of a town”/”It’s up to you, New York, New York”/”NYC! What is it about you?”]

Aren’t the trees in the background nice? Maybe they would be if I didn’t put my head in the way…

*For examples of some that are not, see T. J. Dawe’s “Cosmo and Maxim” monologue, a comedy routine about “the battle of the sexes” that’s both hilariously funny and not ridiculously offensive.

** See, kids, this is why you should beware of going last at a place with a two-drink minimum…