A very suitable ending, or, Something food related, or, the Last Supper, or, The whole trip epitomized in four hours

De(bbie).

Hi(ro).

Jo(e).

Ro(se).

Vi(nce).

This night was the last time we would all go out together in New York. It was a trip of many extremes; when the first day ended it seemed like we had seen so much, and this night it felt like we had seen nothing. This night was also important for another reason: we were going to eat Korean fried chicken at Bon Chon. This dish had been built up the duration of our trip until it acquired the mythical status it held prior to our meal. The first night we hung out with Jen when we were at Hi-Fi, she expounded the dish. This arose while I was in the process of praising Gray's Papaya as the perfect late night food, when Jen interrupted and in a low voice explained a heavenly meat morsel that was deep fried to a light crisp, with a salty and spicy kick to it. This modest explanation does not do justice what her words did to our stomachs. Her explanation caused pools of saliva to form at our feet...after which, she said that her praises should be taken with a degree of skepticism because she had been craving fried chicken for weeks, and she herself had only heard of this chicken from her roommate.

The damage had been done. We were destined to go.

Joe and I attempted to go night after night but never had the motivation to overcome obstacles like crossing town, tiredness, or acceptance of places which were deemed "good enough". However, with the combined motivation of six individuals (the five plus Jen), we came together like Voltron and headed for Koreatown.

The restaurant had an upscale lounge feel to it. Three cute waitresses wore clothing completely unsuitable for their tasks of serving patrons on low tables (short skirts and low cut tops), walking around the restaurant (high heels), or even standing for long periods of time (heels again). In other words, the males could not stop looking at them. We were seated at one of those low tables, and then proceeded to debate the intricacies of splitting a large order of chicken among six people, two of whom were not particularly hungry. Joe and I wanted a few drinks, so we ordered a large lychee soju and a medium plain soju. Both came in funny sake carafes which were embedded in a bowl of shaved ice.

Stylish.

The chicken arrived on a platter accompanied with pickled radishes and salad. That was moderately surprising. Some chicken pieces were typical buffalo wing size while others were full size chicken pieces. That was as confusing as it was impressive. However, the most amazing yet predictable thing came at first bite: the Korean spicy chicken, which had been talked about onto a high pedestal with seemingly unrealistic expectations of greatness, was then immediately thrust onto a much higher pedestal, one which was very real and fathomable.

Mouthgasm.

We all toasted several times to the end of this trip. As a group, we were separating the next day. Alcohol, while sometimes a great tormentor, is also the greatest of uniters. When was the last time you had a group hug? And the last time you raised you glass with friends? I thought so. With glasses clinking in unison, the mindset changed from here to home.

Thanks for reading - DeHiJoRoVi.

Day 4: Some R&R from some R&R

My feet hurt. It had been a long trip, filled with a lot of walking, and my Vans were killing me. From then on, I swore that I would have a comfortable, heavily padded pair of shoes when I travel...bunny slippers maybe? Pillows on my feet? I guess sneakers would do. In the meantime, I would use my loafers. Yes, the same loafers I wear when I go out and to work. They're comfortable, dammit! Luckily, I wouldn't have to make a fool out of myself the whole day since we planned to go to Central Park today. The guys, anticipating a day of physical activity, dressed in gym shorts and running shoes. The girls wore...jeans and flip flops.

What?

Prior to heading to the park, we stopped by a seller of cheap goods in Chinatown and were able to purchase a wiffle ball set for three dollars. THREE DOLLARS! We had a quick bite at Katz Deli, where they had the best sandwich meat ever. Pastrami was coated with pepper, thick cut, yet still melted in your mouth. Their corned beef and beef tongue were equally delicious. And the only ingredients the sandwiches were comprimised of was the meat, mustard, between two slices of rye.

Fun? Check.

Food porn.

We took the subway into the park, found a empty sport on the Great Lawn, and settled down. An empty baseball diamond was next to us, so we set up some rubber bases which were left out. Then we attempted to play a game of baseball with four people, quite unsuccessfully. Joe opted out becuase he decided to take pictures instead. The four of us: Rose, Debbie, Hiro, and I, modified our baseball game into a crazy game where there were no teams and we would switch between offense and defense as required. After about half an hour of that, the girls sat down. Joe then decided to join me and Hiro, and we switched to playing three flies up. This was accomplished by having one person hitting fly balls to the other two, who would then attempt to catch the ball by any means possible. It basically became a bumping match. The use of a wiffle ball presented many challenges, as the wind would often carry it a significant difference. Overall, the wiffle set led to fun that lasted well over three hours, all for three dollars! It was the cheapest fun we had in New York.

Notice what the girls are wearing versus the guys.

Joe missed.

The intensity was nothing short of astounding.

Rose's family friend came by and witnessed some of our stupidity. The girls then decided that they wanted to bike around Central Park, so Debbie, Rose, and Rose's friend went off to do that. Hiro and I decided to run around Onassis Reservoir, and Joe wanted to watch. I'd make some kind of joke about that, but mostly he wanted to protect his camera from biking.

So Hiro and I proceeded to run around the 1.57 mile distance. It was a really great day for the run...not too hot, a little hazy, but still clear enough to see the view.

So why did I feel like shit?

I'm not one to for excuses (okay, maybe I am) but my allergies had been horrible ever since the third day. It was so hard to breathe, which felt like with every breath I had five bricks anchored to my lungs. Hito completed the distance in 12:30 while it took me 14:30. It was refreshing to do something athletic, aside from the walking.

Hiro celebrates. I'm not in the frame because I'm...way behind.

After the run we all met up, only to again split up because Rose and I had dinner plans with family friends in Flushing.

Note: One more post to go!

The guys: PDT and Sake Bar Decibel

Both these places were recommended to us by friends. A coworker of mine at my summer internship brought PDT up immediately after I mentioned that I was going to NY. Sake Bar Decibel was recommended by a San Diego friend, who simply said that we had to go. Their recommendations were enough for us; none of us pressed them for details. My experience was probably better because of it.

We arrived at the address for PDT and wandered around where a secret entrance was supposed to be. Allow me to clarify. The model that PDT is based on is a prohibition-era speakeasy. As such, there is a secret entrance which requires you to buzz in and the person on the other side will let you through if you qualify. No, you don't need to be part of a secret society to get in; a simple reservation will do. Eventually after some aimless wandering, we saw what appeared to be the entrance. We picked up the buzzer, and after some hesitation, a false wall opened. An attractive doorwomen curtly asked, "Vince? Let me lead you to your table." Rules on the door explained that no photography or videotaping was allowed, so please forgive me as I attempt to explain the atmosphere.

The room was narrow, with sets of booths and tables pressed against the length of the wall. The result was a narrow space in between the seating with just enough room for a person to walk in between. A long bar was also anchored against the wall, with two bartenders managing alcohol distribution. Both wore outfits suitable for a Bogart film, and worked in silence and with fast hands. The strict crowd control policy ensured that everyone had a seat, and every seat was filled. Your voice never needed to be above a normal conversational tone. The drinks were extremely intricate and used rare ingredients - while this combination is often an oxymoron, the result in this case was quite delicious. Theis atmosphere did not happen by chance...a visit to the bathroom had a detailed list of rules which served to explain how such an ambiance could be achieved.

The three of us sat at a small table next to the bar. We mulled over a list of drinks we never heard of, with descriptions more suited for a whimsical fiction novel than a bar menu...explanations included stories of departed friends, inspiration from travels, and tales of refinement that took years. I settled for a drink partially composed of absinthe and egg whites, Joe ordered ______ (I don't remember because it was quite exotic), and Hiro ordered a special beer by Brooklyn Brewery. We had a side of waffle-cut fries topped with cheese and jalapenos which caused Hiro to insanely state "I don't even want carne asada fries anymore! I always want this!" We also split a bacon-wrapped hotdog topped with David Chang kimchee. Both were perfect accompiments to our drinks.

During the course of our consumption, we spent our time refining our system, talking about our trip, and discussing how great it would be to live in NY. A place like this will do that for you.

After a second round of drinks, we bid PDT adeiu and walked to Sake Bar Decibel. We almost passed the bar entirely; the place was marked by a small sign maybe one square foot in size, with a bottle of sae taking up 90% of it and the words invisible if further than three feet away. Surely only locals would know of such a place (or educated yelpers), since no passerby would make the effort to climb down the narrow steps resembling the entrance to a basement rather than a restaurant.

Menu shot.

The only necessary explanation of this place is that a quick glance at the menu caused Hiro to say "this place has the best sake selection I've seen outside of Japan."

We then left and called it a night.

Chillin.

Awesome walls.

The day continued...MOMA and more food.

Hi Joe!

Another classic Hiro pose.

Camoflauged.

Rose's better camoflauge.

Stomachs full, we headed to the MOMA. Unlike many, if not all, museums I have been to, everything stood out. The surprise of the visit was seeing Van Gogh's "Starry Night" in person, among many of his works. Other highlights were Picasso's structures, Andy Warhol's paintings, and a furniture exhibition.

Picasso's monkey.

Cool chair.

Rose's friend departed after the Van Gogh exhibit, so the five of us went to Ramen Ippudo for dinner, another place on our list. The wait was long - 90 minutes - but there was a bar so Hiro, Joe, and I had a beer and Calpico Hi while we waited. The girls relaxed on white square padded boxes which doubled as seating.

A sidenote: Hiro, Joe, and I developed a convention in order to rate girls in secret. It is as brilliant as it is dumb; brilliant because it allows one to discuss a rating even if there is a girl listening in the conversation, and dumb because it makes those involved sound like complete idiots.

Not that the latter is anything new for us.

We were finally seated. The restaurant's decor could have been a stand-in for a 4-star restaurant, even though it was a "simple" ramen house. The prices somewhat reflected this, as we proceeded to order the most expensive ramen, by far, any of us had ever eaten. It came out to around $14 for most of us, primarily due to the addition of pork belly, which I would argue is a necessity. The food was delicious, and worth experiencing.

This was the bar top...if you look closely the awesomeness will hit you.

The girls needed a rest, so they decided to stay in the hotel that night and watch TV. The guys, however, wanted to go out to once again experience NY nightlife, so we decided to go to two more places on our list: Please Don't Tell and Sake Bar Decibel.

Random pictures without captions

Day Three: Delicious lunch (sans pictures)

We awoke a little later than we had hoped. The rest was entirely necessary, especially after the night before. Stomachs growling, we headed to Joe's Shanghai. One of Rose's friends met us there as well. We sat at a table with two other groups of strangers, which is is not uncommon at this restaurant due to its popularity and people's desperation to eat the delicious food as soon as possible, regardless of circumstances. Assuming I sat at the 6-o'clock position, the 6 of us sat at positions 1-5. A little boy and his father were happily slurping down shiao loong bao when we arrived, and sat at the 11-12 positions. A group of five non-asians arrived later to occupy the rest of the table, and awkwardly fumbled with the menus wondering what to order.

I won't go into detail about how great the food was, or how Joe's Shaghai is considered one of NY's best restaurants, but instead will say this: when groups of complete strangers willingly squeeze together in tables meant for much fewer, no questions asked, the food is king. Food can be good enough such that an hour wait, no atmosphere, and an uneasy alliance of a shared lazy susan would not be considered a hindrance.

Liver Massacre II: The Night Continues

We left the club and stood outside in a circle to discuss what to do next. In the distance, ten girls were standing in a circle not more than three body lengths away, so Kenny and I decided to investigate. The sources of the conversation have been removed, in order to protect privacy (and prevent embarrassment).

"What are you ladies doing tonight?" (one of us) asked, with a hint of flirtatiousness in (one of our) voice.

"She's getting married! We're out for her bachelorette party!"

"Congrats! What a lucky guy!"

"Yes he is...now eat this candy penis off her neck!" she screamed, while pointing to what appeared to be a necklace of phallic sugar candies that the bachelorette was wearing.

"Okay, I don't want the big one though, I'll only have the small one."

We sauntered over to a sculpture which resembled a pile of rubble - on second thought, it actually could have simply been rubble - and went back to the task of deciding what to do. Jen saw a bar across the street and went on to describe one of the many reasons why she does not go to the Meatpacking district (hint: it involved stumbling). At that very moment, Joe then trips and makes an inhuman yelp as he falls to the ground. He then attempts to make excuses of his blunder by making stories of make believe curbs that vanished.

The seven of us settled on some bar that we saw in passing which seemingly had a good crowd and decent music. We asked the bouncer, is there cover? No? Then let us in! We had another round of drinks, and then Hiro and I again went off to meet people. Hiro approached two Asian girls who were sitting near the bar, and with a most casual demeanor, asked how they were doing. Hiro in action reminded me of the poet Christopher George Latore Wallace, because I think that he comes across as so genuine in contrast to the ways I have seen others make their move.

Who they attractin with that line, "What's your name what's your sign"
Soon as he buy that wine I just creep up from behind
And ask what your interests are, who you be with
Things to make you smile, what numbers to dial

It was like we were at some friend's house party and he was getting to know a friend of a friend. The night ended for me when Jen, Joe, and I decided to head back early apart from the group. We ended up at a late night Chinese restaurant, reminiscing of the past two nights as if it were a long time ago.

The liver massacre continues, or, the second night in NY (part one)

The five of us again met up with Jen and Kenny in order to go out that night. Kenny led the way, and although he did not have a specific place in mind, he decided that we should go to the Meatpacking District that night. Upon arrival, the seven of us then stood on a busy street corner that seemed to be the center of the area where we then debated our options. We did not discuss for very long; a promoter approached us and asked where we would like to go. After mulling over the multitude of options he gave us, we settled on a lounge on the roof of a "hip" hotel, not dissimilar to the style of the W. After paying the promoter $20 per person, we were able to skip the queue and go straight into the club. Surprisingly, either due to our payment or out of sheer luck, Joe was able to get in despite wearing his athletic shoes, which were wildly out of place in the sea of douchebaggery which is common in such environs. I would credit our ability to get in entirely to the girls, who looked like movie stars. The guys, despite our best efforts to look as douchy as possible, managed to just squeak by in the sea of much older guys wearing popped collars/$200 ed hardy t-shirts/untucked dress shirts with weird flowers-or-dragons-or-wings-etc.

The elevator arrived at what seemed like the 40th floor, and we headed directly to the bar. The lounge had the feel of a higher end Vegas club, meaning that it was overcrowded, primarily composed of older people, and had no seating whatsoever except to those reserved for people who opted for overpriced table service. However, decent music was playing, we were all in a festive mood, and most impressively, the view was astounding. The lounge could have easily been an observation deck since it offered views as far as New Jersey. We got a round of drinks and admired the scenery.

Hiro was in the mood to mingle, and after hearing many stories of his exploits during the summer of which I sadly did not partake due to our distance apart, I asked his permission to observe and learn. I was accepted as a student, and we then proceeded into the dense crowd.

After an exhausting round of pushing through the lounge, Hiro spontaneously approached two girls who were standing on the balcony.

"Hey, its cold out here, isn't it?" Hiro asked nonchalantly.

I immediately thought, what a fucking BADASS.

Anna and Jessie both live in New York. I wish I could say I changed their names in order to protect their privacy, but in all honesty, I am horrible with names and do not remember what they are. Anna told me that she was previously a personal assistant, but hated the job because her boss was a complete slave driver, treating her more like a butler or concierge than a business associate. Thus, he took advantage of her by often demanding her to do mundane tasks like make dinner reservations, buy show tickets, and go on coffee/food runs. Please note that her tone during this subject area was fused with curse words, all of which will not be repeated for your consideration. Jessie had just completed graduate school at Stanford in engineering. She got a job in New York not more than two weeks ago, and drove across the country with her friend Christine, who was currently the reluctant target of some shady European guy much too old for her and with much too chest showing for any location other than a beach.

"Why don't you save her? Do you want me to jump in?" I asked the two.

"And ruin the fun? This is entertainment!" Anna answered.

"At your friends expense?"

"That's the best kind," Jessie replied.

The girls were cute, smart, and witty: a dangerous combination. Luckily, they had to leave to meet with a friend at another venue.

The initially amusing crowd had crossed the threshold to slightly annoying. The music likewise went from decent to questionable, and the single line to the bathroom went from "brief awkward conversation with a stranger" to "Disneyland before fastpass was invented" in length. In other words, it was time to go.

Next time: The liver massacre continues, and also features late night dining and phallic edibles.

Day two begins while Yankee Stadium's history ends

Me and Hiro the night before.

We all woke up later than planned, by with just enough time for a date with history: the last day game at Yankee Stadium. Hiro, Joe, and I bought the tickets months ago at five times the face value. The three of us left the girls for Yankee Stadium, while they mapped out a day of shopping and eating.

We did not have much time for food. We looked around our neighborhood for anything we could find, and ended up at a Vietnamese sandwich shop. The prices were shocking: five dollars for a single banh mi! We were stunned by this seemingly ridiculous amount of NY price inflation. However, our disgust soon turned to amazement because when the banh mi arrived, it was the stretched limo of Vietnamese sandwiches. "Da shit" of all that is Viet. That was lame, but basically this was the biggest banh mi I've ever seen. If you are a guy, the potential for male anatomy comparisons is mind boggling (and some comments were made between the three of us). The sandwich was not only large, but was also jam-packed with meat (again, the potential was endless). While the meat to veggie ratio was highly disproportionate, there were no complaints.

Old stadium from subway platform.

We then rushed to Yankee Stadium. Arriving at the subway station itself was a quasi-religious experience. The new and old stadiums are right next to each other, and the contrast was as amazing as it was saddening.

New stadium, from our seats.

A sidenote: I had gone to Yankee Stadium three years ago,when I was an intern in Boston. My friend Mike and I went to a day game in mid-August and sat in the bleachers. Temperatures were well past 100 degrees that day, and after bar and partyhopping the night before, staying conscious during the game was diffucult, to say the least. However, we were able to see a then-typical Yankee scoring drive before we decided to leave, which was good enough for us.

Horrible panoramic picture of our seats from the game. Click to enlarge.

Back to the story at hand. Again I was going to a day game, and I silently prayed that we would be in the shade, despite being on the top deck. We hiked to our seats located at the top level above the first base line. The seats were surprisingly decent given the list price. We had only missed two outs in the top of the first inning by the time we sat down. I had expected a high scoring game since both pitchers were no-namers. However, the game was a pitchers duel, with zero runs scored for both teams after the bottom of the eighth. Because of that, we were able to see Mariano Rivera close out the top of the 9th, and the Yankees win it in the bottom of the 9th. It was exactly what I had hoped for in a last game. Hearing Sinatra sing "New York New York" with flashbulbs going off like fireworks as the crowd desperately attempted to capture the essence of over seventy years of history was heartbreaking. I am not a Yankees fan by any means, but its hard not to feel a sense of awe at that moment.

The video ends with a very detailed explanation of what it was like to be there from Hiro.


The song in its entirely, in case you were curious.

The is the second picture the guy took. After the first take (in which we were trying to look like thugs) he said, "you guys need to smile! We're at the game!" with a NY accent.

Night one, and NY nightlife already lives up to the hype

Joe was so excited, he ducked.

Joe, Hiro, and I contacted Jen to meet up with us that night. She came to our hotel and she took all of us to Red Egg, a restaurant which was a combination of a modern restaurant, bar, and dim sum place. However, their food itself had both Chinese, South American, and a fusion of the two. We had decided to go for their drink and dim sum happy hour special, a combination which was as promising as it was disgusting. Luckily, it was the former.

We sat on barstools around a mod bean-shaped table and proceeded to order a round of cocktails and shu mai, har gow, and cha seew bao. The food was actually really great, and better yet, went extraordinarily well with the strong drinks. We proceeded to order second, and then third, rounds of both. Overall, it was an impressive and delicious experience. Hopefully this trend will catch on.

Peking duck + ketel and tonic = Awesome. Please, please, PLEASE catch on here!

Hiro was so happy, he passed out.

Rose's friend Kenny took us barhopping that night in the Alphabet City/East Village area that night. We met up at the corner of 14th and 1st, and headed to a Japanese restaurant with half price drinks at all times to get sauced. The first thing that struck me: the waitresses were all Chinese FOBs. The second: half price drinks are awesome. I was starving so Jen and I split a few rolls of strange sushi...I remember that one was a pumpkin tempura roll. Joe and I ordered vodka tonics, but when our drinks arrived, an additional bottle of sake and beer accompanied our orders. I stared at the cute waitress hoping for a wink and a smile, but nay; our looks of wonderment were soon answered with cries for sake bombs and raised glasses at the other end of our table. While Joe, Jen, and I decided to forego the traditional sake bomb method of precariously balancing a shot of sake on two chopsticks over a glass of beer and dropping it by pounding it on the table, some decided to do it. I have my reasons, and those reasons were soon verified when after "cheers" were exchanged, the traditional method resulted in two broken glasses and, more disappointingly, spilled alcohol. You might be asking yourself, Vince, what is your method? Thanks for asking. I prefer to pour my shot into my beer, and then chug. It may not be as dramatic, but it upholds my most fundamental of canons: no wasted alcohol.

We headed to a few bars after that. The two that we went to were fairly laid back. The first had a pool table and had rock music in the background, while the second seemingly required everyone to stand along a narrow corridor while hip-hop played over the speakers. It was a good atmosphere, with everyone mingling and looking for a good time.

Vegas crew minus Mimi.

Debbie's pose indicates that yes, we are in fact drinking and not only having serious conversations.

So how were we doing by the time we left the second bar? I'll leave that up for you to decide as I describe the BEST FOOD I HAD IN MY LIFE, EVER. Debbie had placed a Yakitori restaurant/bar on the list (more on that later) which was coincidentally open at that time and located close to us, so we headed there for a late night snack. I can't really remember how long we waited in line, but we were (seemingly) seated quickly. Initially, we ordered a few items off the menu...ten yakitori for the five of us there, but this modest order drove Joe and me into an animalistic bloodlust, which led to order after order after order. The result? One of the most satisfying meals ever, for all those involved.

The look of true happiness (plus some animalistic bloodlust).

True happiness, part 2.

First day continued, with a continuation of touristy goodness

The three of us found the source of power of Wall Street.

Joe failing horribly at taking a picture of the cute girl.

After arriving back in port, we continued the touristy trend and headed to the Financial District. We did not do too much there, aside from acting like complete tourists by taking a lot of pictures in front of buildings and landmarks. After doing this, Rose had an urge to get some iced coffee, so we stopped by a nearby Starbucks to pick some up.

Then something crazy happened.

Actually, let me explain. This day was filled with many signed that luck was on our side. I would even go on to say that it seemed like were were...fated to have a good trip. So what were the signs?

Sign #1: The plane departed ten minutes early (a small sign, but a good sign nonetheless).

Sign #2: There was not a long line to see the Statue of Liberty.

Sign #3: (Please ignore the following paragraph if you are short on time, its really not all that interesting) This will take some explaining, but basically one of the reasons why we considered going to the Statue of Liberty was because we initially wanted to go on a ferry ride to take scenic pictures of Manhattan. So we had originally planned to take the free Governor's Island ferry, which would also allow us to see a temporary urban art exhibit compromised of a large-scale man-made waterfall. After some ill advice that the Statue of Liberty ferry would in fact pass these waterfalls, we changed our plans. After disembarking the ferry after the Statue of Liberty excursion, we were mildly disappointed that we did not see the waterfalls.

(We now continue our story which hopefully will be more interesting than the preceding interlude) However, while Rose was in Starbucksm out of the corner of my eye I saw the waterfalls not two blocks away! I ran excitedly to the rest of the crew to tell them the news, and then we went to see them. They were nice, but overall it was kind of anti-climatic.

Cool? Yes. Mind-blowing? Mm, maybe not.

By that time, it was about when we were supposed to check in the hotel. All of us were amazed by our efficiency because we had accomplished so much in such a short amount of time. We headed back to the hotel, checked in, and took a much needed break. It was only 3pm now, and we felt like we had been in NY a week.

Statue of Liberty, but first, a side trip

A picture of the airport terminal when we exited. Its a little early.

We arrived at 5:20am New York time, or 2:20am San Diego time. The plan of sleeping over the course of the flight and waking up in NY refreshed was thought to be a good idea. However, the obvious lack of foresight was apparent as all of us arrived tired and cranky from a two to three hour night of sleep. Apparently, trying to sleep at 9:30pm San Diego time is difficult when you are used to sleeping at midnight or later.

We took the subway to our hotel and dropped off our luggage. We then reluctantly attacked the day, the ticks of the clock just arriving at 8am. We left for the Statue of Liberty, a site that all of us had not seen in over a decade, if at all.

Actually, hold on. I left out an important detail.

We left the hotel, stomachs grumbling. Debbie had repeatedly explained her desire for a good bagel with cream cheese, so we went looking for a store. After walking through Soho for around half an hour, it became apparent that this trip which was supposed to be a brief side trip was going to be a whole lot longer. All of us were under the assumption that bagel places were a dime a dozen in NY. This is partially the case, if one is willing to accept treet cart bagels (whose legitimacy is suspect). We nearly did, after passing by three of them and not finding a single store with bagels. Our journey seemed over. We stood on a street corner, exasperated, after a little over an hour of looking. A stranger saw the looks of distress on our faces and asked what we were looking for. We explained that we wanted - no, needed - bagels, and she directed us to a store. The next half hour was a quick and jovial walk filled with anticipation. We counted down the street numbers like how one would countdown the minutes to a hot date, and finally we arrived at Murray's Bagels. The place was packed (always a good sign), and the multitude of stickers and plaques indicated that we had indeed chosen the smart path. It was delicious, and with our stomachs full, we headed toward the Statue of Liberty.

Can you find 4 of the 5 of us? And Hiro = LOL.

The Statue of Liberty went by without incident. Perhaps the only surprise was the lack of lines to see it, after hearing stories of how some people had waited two hours or more on their trips. Our only obstacle was to maintain a high level of motivation despite a lack of sleep.

Oh, here we are.

Photography + Pilates = Pholates.


Some were tested.

Some background, written on the plane to NY somewhere over the Midwest

The trip to New York was not a planned event, nor was it entirely random. We had gone to Whistler on a whim some two years ago, born out of desperation to snowboard somewhere - anywhere - we could when a larger group trip was canceled at the last minute. This level of desperation was similarly present in the planning of this trip, after a long spring and anticipated summer of suffering and work-induced boredom. Several ideas were proposed, ranging from the pricey to the foodie inspired, but New York was settled upon for reasons...unknown. Perhaps, and this is what I like to think, New York was a little of everything, the resulting crockpot of all our proposals and ideas of where we wanted to go and what we wanted to do. It is the city that has everything, right?

I suppose a little background is in order. Rose, Debbie, Hiro, and I had all been to NY, to limited extents. My knowledge of their trips is limited and from my already shaky memory, so forgive me as I try my best. Hiro last visited a few months ago as part of a job-seeking mission to Connecticut, an opportunity viewed with contempt by the rest of us. This was mainly for selfish reasons: we did not want Hiro to leave San Diego. And throw yet another farewell party. And see Hiro come back a few months later (Zing!). Rose had visited a little over a year ago with family. Her trip likely did not involve significant quantities, if any quantities, of alcohol. As such, the maximum amount of fun from this trip was capped at 7/10. Debbie had visited many years ago prior to her second year in college. She said it was a short trip, and fun. Finally, my pror trips to NY were a consequence of working in Boston and taking the Fung Wa bus to visit friends during the weekends. I made two or three trips that summer, all of which can be vaguely summarized as great, but lacking in duration.

I like to think our stories of these trips had inspired Joe to increase his desire to visit, but I doubt that. He had probably wanted to go before, and if not, he has alwas been a willing participant for most, if not all, our activities. It is not a surprise that the five of us are on this trip.

A mildly inappropriate picture of the five of us in Whistler. And to answer your question: yes, we are clothed.