mockturtle (hellblazer06) wrote,

the best-laid schemes

(last) Tuesday: Anchors aweigh

The prisoners were all on the bus again. I don't know why my bus has become an unofficial prison transport, but it has. They take up three quarters of the bus and this morning they were being particularly abusive and offensive so I got off at the nearest stop to the station and caught the train in instead. It costs more, takes longer (cause I have to wait for it), but at least I had peace and quiet. I even got out my wee spiral notebook and scrawled off a scene.
And a pivotal scene it was, too. The point where it all goes horribly wrong for poor Neal. Really, really wrong. And what has Neal done to bring this upon himself? Foolishly stepped up to be a hero, that's what. Silly boy. Funnily enough, and I'd never noticed it before, but shit happens every time Neal tries to do the right thing in these stories. He should know better. So yes, poor Neal, making the bold decision to stand up. And, like all heroes, it's not without a greal deal of horror and sacrifice, and he'll definitely have his red badge of courage by the end of it. Well, in the thousand yard stare way of it, at least.

Poor, stupidly heroic, desperately in love, Neal.

So that was my morning. Being tortured and torturing. I guess it goes around, eh?

Not that it makes me feel any better. Having a pig of a day (and it seems so much harder, since I feel the universe reneged on our deal, somewhat, so it's hard to see the point of it, really, but never mind).

Anyway, back to the trip that was entertaining despite missing out on the headline act, as it were. Still going to do it thematically because it's all starting to jumble up, even though it was only a coupla weeks ago (but such, long, barren and bleak weeks).

Anchor's aweigh: New York was awash with sailors and marines, and while I purse my lips of American foreign policy (mainly by reason of being a foreigner) it's amazing how a few shiny buttons can turn me into Lydia Bennet in about three seconds flat. The lunch I spent mildly flirting with three marines, well, two of them, the other was deeply involved with his iPhone, was diverting and I actually forgot to be miserable for an hour or so. It was in a rather nice pub down on Fulton St and I'm sure they did better than me once I shoved off, but they were nice.

Except the one glued to his iPhone. So like an aquaintance of mine who always finds their iPhone far more fascinating than me, so of course then I get desperate and strained and try so hard to be witty and brilliant and then, when that fails, I get all exhausted and grumpy and by the time they finally look up I'm in deep sulk and they probably wonder why they agreed to meet me for coffee in the first place. It's infuriating, is what it is. Fortunately none of my American friends did this, for which I was deeply grateful.

Times Square was heaving with the blighters, but the funniest was the three sailors in their best whites standing outside the Empire State Building. I so wanted to take a photo but they gave me a flithy look so alas, pocketcam had to stay holstered. So I didn't dare ask them for directions, either, though I understand that the Bronx is up and the Battery's down...

Speaking of not being miserable, it was another trip to my fave cafe and I found they were setting up for a street market right outside. There was some consternation as car after car was towed away through the stalls, but by the time I'd finished my repaste they were all set up and it was good quality tat, too, like Rozelle markets ecclectic, only way cooler, cause it was New York, man. I picked up a few vintage ties for Himself (I never know what he'll like but if I stick with the sort of tie I used to buy for Dad I don't seem to go too far wrong). Found a crazy old fashioned crab brooch on a table full of old ladies gee gaws, which reminded of the church fetes I used to adore as a teen but I just never see anymore, cause everyone knows what it's worth now. Would have gone to town, but I settled on my crab brooch.

Then, then I found the piece de resistance, though not for me, of course (never for me, this trip, not even the chocolates). I found, the sellers own, hers since she was sixteen, her first ever job and kept until that day, in reasonable condition, and the only other one I'd ever seen had been just a few days before, under glass, in a museum. It was a map to the 1964 New York World's Fair. Okay, you might not be impressed but Himself has been collecting maps since, well, most of his life, and when I assured the seller it couldn't be going to a more loving recipient I wasn't kidding. I swear he takes it out and strokes it nightly. And all for $USD5.00.

So I was feeling rather pleased with myself. Until I turned the corner and found out why they'd been towing all the cars away. Attached to every pole on that block, and round the corner, were signs that White Collar would be filming there. Right next to my fave cafe. The day I flew out.

You know that muttering noise Sideshow Bob makes when he keeps walking into the rakes in the Simpsons's episode "Cape Feare"? Well, imagine me muttering every time I walked past one of those poles. For two blocks.

Funnily enough I saw that episode of The Simpsons while in the US. It's one of those ones I always see, it's like the only Simpsons episode I'm allowed to see. Funny thing too, because I was thinking this time when flying in the US technology had moved on and I'd have back-of-the-seat screens, not some old tv episode on a scratchy video tape projected onto a screen in the centre of the cabin. Au contraire. And that episode. Probably on rotation since the 90s. Sheesh.

I also just missed White Collar filming down by city hall, as well, as I trotted past in my wanderings (wanted to get a 'vail Law & Order' photo). Well, they were still packing up, but from the reaction of the I Heart NY t-shirted fangirls in the area, Bomer had left the building. Sigh.

All this miss and miss did embitter me, just a touch (oh for London where thesps will just plonk themselves down next to me, be it pub, train or cafe, but that's British (and Oz) thesps for you, they will mix with the great unwashed, you know, live their lives) so probably put me in the mood for a certain Chas. Addams. I did have a ticket to the Addams Family musical and it was curtain up as promised on said ticket (unlike every other ticket in my folder, including the plane tickets) and I was second row (apparently not a prized seat by the Yanks) and it was okay. Funny in parts, very funny even, and the casting of Morticia and Gomez I couldn't fault, but the plot was a sub Munsters episode (with some Rocky Horror thrown in) and there were no outstanding tunes, but at least I saw something on Broadway, right?

Much better value was the exhibition of Addams cartoons at the Museum of the City of New York (a sweet little place, just like a tiny council museum in the UK) and there I really was chuckling and laughing out loud. Fave was one where a guy was selling little wind up business men down by the lake in Central Park and he's just noticed that one of the little windups has gone missing but left a little pile of clothes and brief case by the lake. Bwahaha!!! Well, I was in that sort of mood. Cheered me up no end, that.

I loved the New York and the car exhibit - yes, they showed clips and the brochures from the '64 world's fair? So Thunderbirds it hurts. Why doesn't the world look like that? I demand to speak to the manager. Anyhoo, well worth my $$, that one. Also, the cafe was nice.

Oh, and I saw the legendary crochet coral reef. So hard to keep po faced when confronted with such classics of the art. The crochet coral reef was quite the cause célèbre a while back, mainly as an object of mirth, so when I found it for real in the museum of design, or whatever it was, I was stoked. So it was hard to pretend I wasn't taking the piss when the museum staff person noticed my interest and engaged me in a chat. Oh, quite well known work back home, I said, po face straining to breaking point. Oh, Noo York, so serious!

The rest of the museum was earnestly dire but the house it was in was fabby. I think it was Carnegie's old pile, if I remember rightly. Worth the ticket just to gawp at the rooms.

Oh, maybe one of the reasons I wasn't that wowed by the Addams Family musical was that I was still a bit under the weather from that afternoon. Still, well, shall we say fuming at yet another near miss, I'd decided to stop off in a bar on the way back. Aside from anything else I was hot and thirsty and I'd found a place that sold perry before but I was walking back another route (no doubt guaranteed to miss film crews every time) and I found this place and decided to settle for a glass of rose instead. No sooner had I sat down that they started to play Cake's "Short Skirt/Long Jacket" over the tannoy and I felt that was rubbing it in, somewhat (it's an oblique reference, but bear with me).

Actually, Chuck vs my friend's fake work is playing on Go! tomorrow night. Cue more Sideshow Bob mutterings.

Anyway, that rose, for whatever reason, hit me like a pan galactic gargle blaster and I damn nearly tripped over as I stood up and wandered off to my next park stop (I like New York, there always a handy park to break up a long walk into several short ones) but I just couldn't sober up so I actually had to hail a cab back to the hotel and lie down until it was showtime. Oh dear. Well, at least one glass proves I'm not a lush, and I did need to drown the sorrows. Still felt a bit woozy though, more than a bit, which may have offset the viewing pleasure a smidge. Just a smidge, mind.

Not that I meant to be all stalky re White Collar but when I knew I was going to miss out on the Paley thing I was insanely hoping against hope for a lucky glimpse, but it just wasn't to be. The near misses were cruel, though, and I really was beginning to feel like White Collar's very own Abner Kravitz.

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Tags: art, chuck, photos, pictures, theatre, white collar

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