Okay, so I don't like to keep a regular 'blog' because I think the whole concept of keeping a log of everyday minor events and forcing it onto people and expecting them to read it and find it captivating is a little pretentious. If that's the case then lead me to the room with the Ostentatious sign above the door.
Last Thursday my brother, the best man for his wedding and I took a short break to New York City. The plan was simple, we were going to drink some ale, do some shopping, take in the beautiful city, watch the ECW wrestling pay per view and buy a tight fitting pair of trousers. You know, the usual clichéd manly man things that you're meant to do before someone gets married. Apart from the trousers they were just mine. All mine.
Our trip began on Thursday June 8th 2006 when my brother collected me with my big blue case of t-shirts and one jacket. Now, New York in June is meant to be hotter than England right? Well, last time I went, man it was it was hot. Bernard Manning1 could have cooked pheasant on the side walk2 outside the Rockefeller Centre. It was scorchio!
This time, however, I found myself wearing my jacket at all times other than when not in the shade and in Lace! England was about 30 degrees all weekend and almost twice the temperature.
Once we got Scott (best man) we left for the airport. It was at the point I began the plane crashing odds banter. After he showed us his stress pills I decided it was probably best to ease away from the more negative aspects of flying. After we had checked in and after I had been frisked we walked across to the TGI Friday's restaurant and ordered some food. It was here that Scott whispered to me that the guy sitting over from us looked like Michael Keaton3. "Michael Keaton?" I said probably way too loud. I thought about it for a couple of seconds and realised who he meant. "He looks fuck all like Batm..." I cut myself short as this guy was now looking down at his menu. "Woah He's got Batman's forehead" setting somewhat of a theme for the weekend I then ask "Do you reckon he'd let us take a picture". I think we both new the answer.
We left London Heathrow late Afternoon. The flight itself was okay. The food was the pretty standard haggard mess that you shouldn't even feed animals or the elderly. I jest of course. I'd never do that to an animal.
America has a kind of charm about it that I love, similar to the way I feel about London. Yet I know that if I lived there I would end up throwing myself headfirst into the Hudson River with a box of Devil Dogs4 in each pocket. A case of too much of a good thing I assume.
We ended the brief first night in Manhattan with a Subway5 from of couple of guys who knew more about last season's football than I did and a Jack Daniel's and diet coke from a small bar around 106th and Broadway. Afterwards we retired back to the 'Aspen' hotel which resembled something out of Police Academy. I was literally waiting for Mahoney to boot the door in using Zed's head and arrest me in a menacing, yet hilarious way. Luckily, instead it was more like Police Academy 7. Nothing happened.
I was up early on the Friday since the difference in time zone had most likely another day before I was totally comfortable with the five hour time difference. Once all up and awake we headed 'north' about ten blocks to find Tom's Restaurant, which was Monk's in Seinfeld to get some breakfast. After some dodgy American food we then proceeded to walk about four miles down Into Times Square. Like last time there was so much going on and amongst all the near death taxi dodging we managed to walk about a bit and just try and take it all in.
When we stopped for lunch at this little diner somewhere around 7th avenue there was this waiter who looked just like the wrestler Eddie Guerrero who died late last year. The facial likeness was amazing and we couldn't believe it, well, apart from Scott who wasn't familiar with 'Latino Heat'. Again I spurt out "we've got to get a picture". My brother had a quick look as we were about to leave but said he couldn't find him. I think he was just scared to ask.
We went out later that night to look for something to do after a short sleep. I felt horrible and just wanted to sleep again. I met my brother and his best man Scott In the lobby of the Police Academy hotel a few minutes later. After carefully stepping over the chalk outlines at the front of the building a homeless women strode over to me as I drank some of the remains of my bottle of Poland spring water and casually asked "can I have your water?" how could I say no? I gladly handed the bottle over. We hailed a 'cab' and left for Times Square once again only for Scott, who was sitting next to me in the taxi to replicate the women's "can I have your water?" it was funny, sadly.
After a few minutes walking around the busiest part of the city this bearded Polish dude asked us if we wanted to visit one of the local comedy clubs. How could we turn this pirate looking chap down?
Ninety minutes later we find ourselves at The Laugh Factory sitting to the comedians left at this little strip club table. It was like something out of the Cabaret scene in Goodfellas. Alan Partridge couldn't have even got his eleven inch plate6 on the table that we were sitting at. We pick up our Coronas' and Godfather7 and go to move to the bigger seating behind us and this woman shouts "don't sit there there's a dead rat" to which my brother replies something along the lines "look at the size of the bastard" now, all this is going on as the compere is walking on stage so he looks over and says "what the fuck is going on over there?" to which I reply "there's a dead animal". Lost amongst all the talk that was going on between the two tables and the dude on stage my brother shouts out:"happy Christmas"
"happy Christmas what the fuck?" the comedian responded
"what's with the accent are you some kind of British wenker?"
"ooooh" unanimously the crowd roared
"what nationality are you" asks the comedian
"Spanish" proclaims my idiot brother
"...right, on the show tonight…"
I woke up Saturday morning with the television in my room still on and was confronted with 'eye witness news' on the local ABC channel. I think some bouncer had gone postal8 and attacked someone at a club. That's always disturbing when you hear that the dude that's meant to be solving and preventing trouble batters someone with a hubcap.
Staying at a place that doesn't have a restaurant meant we headed 'north' again to Tom's at half time of the England game. By now the food was taking its toll and we were all starting to miss battered cod, fried eggs and floppy bacon or something like that anyway. "Can I have your water?" Scott mimics as we laugh like simpletons. We left Jerry Seinfeld's favourite café and headed to and Irish pub a few blocks down to watch the last few minutes of the England game.
This time at Times Square we went into the Mall and I bought an awesome pair of slim fitting trousers. Their going to look fantastic with a co-ordinating shirt and tie.
Again in the quest for food we stopped at this tiny food court to sample some bourbon chicken. Once outside walking along 7th avenue my brother and Scott wandered into a place called 'The Playpen' to look at some filthy disgusting filthy DVD's only to discover a live girls section at the rear of the shop. I freaked out after seeing the women in the booths I waited outside until they came out with tales of women stripping behind windows. Literally two minutes later this dude stops us outside Lace Gentlemen's club and asks us if we'd like to enter. Now, I was hoping we could take my brother to somewhere like this since he'd be shackled in less than two weeks but at four in the afternoon? Chris Rock once said "you know you've got a problem if you're in a strip club and it's still light outside" After only a few minutes of sitting in the dimly lit, mirrored and very small club an attractive (I think! I mean it was dark in there) women comes over and sits in front of me and the following conversation takes place:
"you look terrified"
"I am"
"but why? There's all these beautiful women around"
"I think that's the problem"
"would you like me to dance for you?"
"sure"
I am one goofy mother fucker.
Shortly after this we noticed that Scott kept nodding at the bouncer. Feel free to insert your own punch line here. After talking to and admiring some lovely ladies we headed back to Bates, I mean the Aspen Hotel which, at this point, I realised there was a sign above the canopy saying Marrakech hotel. Were we were even staying in the right place?
We met back in the lobby and hour or so later and agreed that we must visit the strip club again. It was destiny. "Can I have your water?" rang out as we descended the stairs.
My brother proceeded to buy some caffeine pills from the chemist9 and it was here that they both took two and I took one.
A few minutes after getting into Times Square once again, Scott started to complain that he didn't feel well, and my brother too. I was just being unsympathetic and laughing. After they drunk some ale at another Irish pub they decided to brave it out and go back to the mirrored visual fun house. Once inside Lace we ordered our over priced drinks. I, once again, asked for a Godfather. The drink that I discovered at the comedy club and had also had on my previous visit to the club a few hours ago. After two sips I thought I was going to die and stared at the floor for about two hours. I was miserable. I was only there waiting for these two clowns to leave with me. There must have been about twenty women who came over and kept asking me if I'd like a dance. Each time I explained that I was ill and one even offered to get me some bread. "Now I know how women feel" I joked to Scott "They won't leave me alone" he merely responded with "can I have your water?"
We got back to our hotel and I felt fine. The last thing I remember is watching one of the four channels that my television could pick up called MNN or something. Why are all American TV networks titled with three characters?
Sunday June 11th was to be our last full day in Manhattan. The breakfast trip only included myself and my brother today as Scott was ill after the plethora of ale he drunk last night. My brother and I discussed over corn flakes, tea, coffee10, cinnamon toast and a bacon sandwich about our previous nights illnesses. It had to be the caffeine pills. Normally I wouldn't even think that I'd need it. I'll make sure to bypass11 any American 'health' foods or supplements in future.
We left for a nice walk through Central Park sometime before midday. The last ten or so blocks we got bored and just walked along side the park and admired it from over the wall. Even though we were debating what we were actually doing and that we've already walked way too much and that we should get a taxi we kept walking until we arrived at the designer shops near some of Donald Trump's hotel/ apartments.
I managed to find the Bruce Campbell book that I wanted here and also had the pleasure of taking a picture of a giant statue with his penis out with my two cohorts either side.
En route to the Hard Rock café we saw a cowboy wearing only a hat, boots and a pair of very tight kegs holding an acoustic guitar. The popular "Do you reckon he'd let us take a picture" comment, however, only occurred after we had had lunch and by then our slender Enus-esque friend had moved on. We did nonetheless find an unattractive man wearing a skirt and ladies skinny top doing a very lame dance to some Mexican guys playing pipes. The other two seemed to find this funnier than I and only when they recreated the camp dance did I get it.
Tonight's entertainment was the annual ECW wrestling pay-per-view and I was looking forward to watching some physical theatre and chanting some obscenities. The show was good, some of the chants were pretty messed up though, Adam Copeland's girlfriend isn't a crack whore, surely?
After we left the Manhattan Centre we went back to the Irish pub again for a couple of frosty beverages and a few recreations of a now popular shoulder alternating dance. Before we knew it we were headed back to Lace gentlemen's club. Once my brother was all danced out and was content that he'd seen enough women to carry him over until he gets married in a couple of weeks we left the establishment only to realise it was 3am. We were in there over two hours.
My brother managed to hail a taxi somewhere along 7th avenue, the place where we spent most of our time in New York it seemed. Halfway back to our hotel we notice how erratically the guys driving was and we all begin to make jokes that if we go any faster were going to travel back in time meet Doc Brown. The comments about Delorean's, Marty Mcfly and time travel continued until Scott and I noticed how irritated my brother was getting about this dudes driving.
Once we were back outside the hotel my brother tells us that if the driver had got out the car he would have 'belted him'. I looked at Scott who replied with 'the dance.'
Today was Monday and was the last four hours of our trip. I was only woken up by a knock at my door otherwise I'd probably still be asleep now. We went to Tom's restaurant one last time. The other two eat pizza burgers and chips while I had a milkshake with an eyelash in it.
It was here that I pointed out that Lace Gentlemen's club opens in fifteen minutes. We joked about chanting "let us in, let us in" outside the club much like the fans did at the ECW show the previous night. Four visits in three days, not even we could manage that.
We concluded out trip with a tour of Duane Reade chemists' along Broadway led by Christopher, my brother, who seems to have a great fascination with drug stores.
Scott kept doing the dance that the chap in women's clothing was doing to keep me entertained throughout this traumatic time.
Waiting to board the plane Christopher and I decided that we should find the vibrating comfy chairs and get a bit of a back 'massage' before the flight. When we arrived at the gate the comfy chairs were all occupied by people just sitting in them and not actually using them. So, looking at this guy sleeping in one of the vibrating chairs I get this really evil idea. "Quick give me a dollar" I said to Scott who proceeded to fish a one dollar bill from his pocket. I sneaked over like something out of a cartoon and put the dollar bill into the slot and ran to where the other two were waiting. We were laughing so much that we all had tears in our eyes. The guy sat forward with a look of fear on his face. He had no idea what was going on. He must have thought there were kids behind him kicking his seat. He eventually sat back and enjoyed the remainder of the vibrating seat.
Scott pointed out that there was a Jewish fella standing to our right that looked like George Dawes. Choruses of "he's the baby…" rang out as we boarded flight AA100 to London Heathrow.
The three of us walked down the tunnel to board the plane all doing the dance. Then all I hear is:
"Can I have your water?"
1To get the joke my 3,000 mile friends trade Bernard Manning for, say, Martha Stewart.
2 The pavement and I don't mean the band.
3 Think the Dark Knight, fuckers.
4 Don't ask. Artie Lange lives on them.
5 Italian BMT on wheat bread with salad
6 See I'm Alan Partridge episode Alan Attraction
7 Almond amaretto almond liqueur and bourbon, ice and a cherry
8 Like Newman in Seinfeld
9 Pharmacy, apothecary, Holland and Barrett
10 Or cawfey depending what side of the Atlantic you live on
11 Or freeway
Look-alikes spotted:
Michael Keaton
Eddie Guerrero
George Dawes
http://sportsillustrated.cnn.com/2006/writers/arash_markazi/06/12/hot.read/1.html/
http://www.laceny.com/
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