Part I - Off to New York

"Start spreadin' the news
I'm leavin' today
I want to be a part of it
New York, New York"

You can bet I woke up humming Sinatra on the morning of my departure. (BTW - It's from the show On the Town, www.soundtrackcollector.com). Normally, I lug my suitcase a few blocks, take MUNI to BART, and get to the airport in 90 minutes. Since this was my first "I have a real job" vacation, and tax season was kind, I took a cab. Under 30 minutes, and no profuse sweating -- short of a limo, it's the way to go if you can.

I booked my trip on Delta since I have their Skymiles and AMEX card from my days in the ATL. I noticed that one of my flights was technically on Song (www.usatoday.com), but didn't figured it mattered. WRONG! Turns out, it was the last weekend of Song's operation (a tragedy if you've ever flown them), and they were out to have a little fun.

They exit row instructions were fun. The seat belt and oxygen mask instructions were done by a Barry White imitator with Smooth Jazz behind him, and were hysterical. Natalie and Tom, my flight attendants, then came around offering drinks.

Said Tom, "Would you like something cool and refreshing?"

"No, I would prefer something cool and sedating," I replied.

I got one of their "signature drinks"...a Cosmo, shaken up in my presence, and charged at a discount rate (Mom would be so proud). Then they started calling me by my first name. (This wigged me out, until I realized I had paid by credit card, their "preferred method"). After I finished my Cosmo, another drink arrived on the following napkin.

It was Fresca and Mango Vodka. For you mixologists, it wasn't bad at all. Needless to say, we all flirted for the rest of the flight. My seat neighbor got jealous of the attention, and played airplane trivia (another great feature of Song) with me (against her husband) to get in on the action. I also made my own playlist from their music collection (I love Song). Too bad it's gone. Demon Delta, I rebuke thee.

I realize at this point that if I write the whole New York trip in one post, it'll take a week to read. So I'll finish Friday night and the rest will follow.

We landed uneventfully at JFK, and I grabbed a cab to the Lower East Side. I let my friend make our rooming arrangements, and he did a great job. We stayed at the Blue Moon Hotel, on Orchard at Delancey. It's a refreshingly quaint and homey little place, run by a Jewish family who lives downstairs (and will lend you their corkscrew in a pinch). There are Mezuzahs on the doors, and the rooms don't have numbers, but are named after actors. They take your room key when you leave, so you can't lose it -- they remember who you are at the desk and let you in. 24/7. It was cool. (This was during construction -- believe me, it looks awesome now. www.newyorkology.com)

After primping a little, my buddy and I hit the town. We started at a mellow little bar, but quickly decided to look for something more energetic. On a whim, we went into a place called The Pyramid Club (members.virtualtourist.com) that advertized an 80's night. While waiting in line for el bano, I saw a hot boy in a Longhorns hat. I mistook him for Vince Young, until I realized he was cuter and more ripped. We chatted for a while, traded drinks, and boogied to the likes of New Order, Blondie, and George Michael.

I think I won him over by knowing the lyrics to both Gloria (Laura Brannigan) and 9 to 5. Shortly thereafter, we were making a spectacle of ourselves at the bar. Unfortunately (given he may have had the best body I've gotten to feel up), his friends dragged him home, so nothing tawdry happened. Instead, my friend and I shot some pool at another bar and went home.

Tawdry happened Saturday night, and I'll put it in the next post. Ta.