there we are @ Coney.
so i arrive in NYC 9:30 PM to vist Crazylegs and the one rule she gives me is: "do not get into an unmarked cab" simple enough eh? well, i grabbed my suitcase and waltzed outside. the first person i see is a man. he says "cab?" i say "YES!" and he takes my suitcase and rolls it to his car (felt like a queen!) i asked "can you break $100?" he said "yes." then we get to the car. an unmarked cab. damn. ......oh well! it's fine. so i text Crazylegs "oops broke your rule. sorry. see ya soon" she starts to panic and get a little crazy. i just giggle in my head thinking pish posh, it's FINE. then the "cab driver" says to me, "i don't have change for $100, we will stop for gas." thanks, liar. you told me you had change. whaddajerk. at this point i start to panic just a little bit. so he pulls into a gas station with bars on the windows and doors. he says "you pay for $25 gas and then get change." so i walk solemnly up to the "window" because you can't actually go in. i had to put my money in this drawer and push it through to the man on the other side. i raced back to the car and jumped in. i texted monica "i hope i don't end up dead in a warehouse" then she reallllly freaked out. so i google mapped her address to make sure the guy was going the right way. i wanted to make sure i would be aware if he took a scary wrong turn or something. so i sat on the edge of my seat, clenching my fists and praying to the Virgin Mary for the duration of the ride. then, gloriously, i saw her. we rounded a corner and i saw Crazylegs. i jumped out, threw my money at the man, and ran away from him. phew. safe at last, safe. at. last.
Crazylegs lives in Brooklyn. her apartment is above a mexican restaurant and is on the third floor. that stairwell is what i honestly imagine hell is like. hard, physical labor trudging up those miserable steps, and the air is hot and thick with smoke and the stench of burning beans. and you really have to stop at the top and rest and heave until you've caught your breath again. once inside, you must collapse onto a piece of furniture to regain strength in your muscles and lungs.
some things i saw in NYC:
a man with a snake on the subway.
a man wearing "shoes" that were basically toe socks with rubber on the bottom.
a homeless man wearing orange Lacoste loafers.
a man playing in a jazz band wearing JNCO jeans.
someone playing "stand by me" via guitar. we sang along.
a young man wearing purple from head to toe. literally. allllll purple.
Crazylegs took me on a "fashion tour" which included the "seduction" exhibit at the museum of fashion, a trip to mood fabrics, and a stop by her school, Parsons, just like on project runway! what a treat. i'll tell ya what wasn't a treat: the stomach ache i got from eating gnocchi on our fashion tour.
we went to some Brooklyn bars, ate at some Brooklyn restaurants, saw some Brooklyn people. all in all Brooklyn was pret-ty neat.we went to Coney Island and rode the INTENSELY scary roller coaster and it hurt my head because it was sooo rickety and i was scared so i leaned into Crazylegs and she said my sharp shoulders were digging into her ribs, making the ride a bit awkward and uncomfortable. ha ha ha...then later a crazy drunk Spaniard on the beach was obsessed with our blonde hair and took pictures of us. and we had beer and pizza on the boardwalk. it was fabulous! a little bit ghetto though....
this trip wasn't about seeing the sights or doing "New Yorkish Things," it was about visiting a wonderful friend and it didn't matter that we ate out every single meal, spending hello kitty and $$$ up the ying-yang, and it didn't matter that we watched Family Guy and American Dad all weekend, laying around laughing at memories and pictures on facebook. i didn't go to NY to see Lady Liberty--oh wait, actually i did. the Lady Liberty that is Crazylegs, not the green statue.