They Always Go There on Cash Cab

That would be McSorley's, which I finally made it to tonight. Supposedly New York's oldest Irish tavern, dating to 1854 – and a prime spot to mingle with suits, Euro tourists, and packs of dudes. Many cabs pulled up while Mari and I sat by the window, proving that it's quite the destination, but none with Ben Bailey or passengers waving newly-won cash. I swear, I have to move to New York just to satisfy by burning desire to get on Cash Cab.

Mari and I first got dinner at MAX, a spot chosen to satisfy my pasta craving and to put us in the McSorley's vicinity (I've been getting daily texts from my friend Tyler telling me to go or I'd be disowned). Turns out the tiny space, oil-cloth tablecloths, and two-seater bar reminded me of my favorite Portland spot, The Italian Joint. Sad, because that restaurant – where you could get bread, salad (with the BEST raspberry vinaigrette) and a pasta fit for two for under $10, plus a giant carafe of house red for $11 – is closed, so yesterday's rumors go. Fucking economy. This was, of course, not so cheap, but the smoked mozzarella and asparagus ravioli was delicious. I'll eat anything smoked or pickled – those carcinogens are just too tasty to resist!

I arrived at 7:40 for dinner, and we were the only ones in the place; by the time we left an hour later, it was packed. I noticed the same timeline at Union Hall last week – at 7:15, I had my pick of most every seat, but by 8:30, I was crowded around by big groups – and told Kristen about how those big "happy hour" groups start convening as early as 5 and reach their peak around 6 in Portland. She was shocked. No one leaves work that early in New York. The later schedule works with my nocturnal tendencies, but still, I want happy hour at the usual time! Now that I think about it, I haven't noticed a single happy hour menu this entire time – uh oh.

Beers are cheap at McSorley's, though – $4.50 for two, albeit half pints. Saunter up the bar and choose between light and dark ales, that's all they got. We double-fisted it and found a prime table in the window, surrounded by old photos and memorabilia, none of which has been removed since 1910. I'm a sucker for history like that. One beer in, we noticed this mug on the table:



Root beer float? That was my first thought, but no. We decided it was the discarded foam from all the beers – not poured with the greatest care, at least a third of the mug was foam, so people must dump it off to get the goods stuff faster, we figured. Silly girls. Turns out it was spicy-ass mustard, to be used on the famous McSorley's Cheese Plate: saltines, white American cheese, and raw onions.



A generous pair of gentlemen not only informed us what exactly what is in that mug, but shared the gourmet treat with us. We each tried one. That was enough. Then we pondered why Mari thinks people in New York are nicer than people in San Francisco – maybe the more traditional East coast manners? And I wondered if the fact that Mari and I are both not the girliest girls has something to do with us growing up in California – not wanting to be considered ditzy valley girls, we avoided overly feminine stuff the older we got. These seemed like very poignant observations at the time, but maybe that ale was just really strong. All I know is that I want to go out on a limb and wear a skirt tomorrow.

Winsome Whirlwind Weekend Wrap-Up

WARNING: This is gonna be a long one. I promise it'll be worth it. But also feel free to skim for only the scandalous parts.

I'm not sure exactly what's happened over the past four or five days, but I'm finding myself more and more hooked on this city. I feel at home again. It's energy and confidence and creativity that I haven't felt in a long time. It's hard – it's cold and my coats aren't thick enough, I pack my "office" and lug around a leaden bag all day, I don't know the most efficient trains and end up zigzagging all over Manhattan and Brooklyn, walking in circles and generally taking longer to get anywhere than I probably should. But the more I push myself, the better I feel. And the more assured I get to go further, and the more inspired I am to follow through on new ideas. And I'm just having fun, plain and simple. Portland is an amazing place to make a life, but I almost feel like it's time for me to earn it. I have to go away and stretch myself to really be content. I have to throw myself in the ocean and prove I can swim – and remember that even though it's effort, I have fun doing it; then the daiquiri on the beach will be that much more rewarding!

Enough introspection, let's rewind and recount the weekend...

Thursday, February 19
If you recall, Thursday was to be quite a busy day for me. Lesson learned: don't jinx it by blogging about the schedule the night before. I showed up at NYU and no one knew I was coming, nor did they know where the person was I was supposed to meet. Forty-five minutes later, I finally found someone who told me she had called in sick. Nice. I will never call in sick to work again.

Well, time for lunch then...headed up to Madison Square Park for some infamous Shake Shack. If I remember correctly, they opened soon after my ASME summer, and everyone was talking about the burgers, the fries, the frozen custards – serious cult following led to impossible lines. Now there are three locations, but it's still a popular lunch spot – the line took close to thirty minutes! And was it worth it? Eh, not really. The burger was fine, but kind of bland and soggy compared to In 'N Out; the fries were perfectly crisp, but the crinkle cut reminded me of the frozen ones you make at home; and the frozen custard chocolate shake...ick. Too nutty, or bitter, or something for my taste, and not nearly sweet enough. Maybe I'm too used to artificial flavor, but I kind of cringed every time I took a sip. The fauna were 'uuuge fans, though; birds sat right next to me and aggressive city squirrels nearly nabbed a fry when I wasn't looking! The pictures are hilarious, but I have to wait 'til I get home to the download cord to share them. Booooo.

Next up, my inaugural visit to the New York Public Library, which you may know as the refuge for freezing New Yorkers in the brilliant The Day After Tomorrow (can't help it, I love disaster movies!). It was slightly less desolate and a tad bit more warm and inviting, thankfully. It is, without a doubt, my new "office." Sitting in the periodical room, surrounded by murals of the great publishing buildings of the past, who wouldn't be inspired to genius?? Ok, I'll settle for productivity, and it worked wonders. I'm going back tomorrow.

I continued on the unfamiliar motivated-to-try-new-things path by going to a free pilates class that Melissa had looked into while she was visiting. I know, you're shocked! It turned out to be a very intensive bodywork class, less aerobic workout, less full-body yoga stretching, and more specific isolated muscle exercises. There may be nothing I hate more than not knowing what I'm doing (hence sticking with the familiar), and fitness has always been foreign to me. It makes me feel stupid, so I avoid it. Throughout the hour, though, even more than being reminded how out of shape I am (no news to me!), I realized just how much I don't pay attention to the individual parts of my body, how they move and interact in everyday motions, and how I can better take care of them. If/when I live here, I need to make this a regular thing. Any Brooklynites reading this, check out Ophra (that's oh-fra, not the other one) at Force and Flow. Seriously.

Resigned to a lazy night at "home," I hit a few bodegas for some food (this shopping-as-you-need-it thing is also hard to get used to) before Kristen invited me to meet up with her and Robin in Park Slope. Excellent, hot food! The problem is that the Atlantic stop on the subway is attached to Target, and I couldn't resist. If only I knew exercise as well as I know shopping! A few necessities later (and I promise, truly, only necessities, and travel sizes at that), I made it to Alchemy, my favorite kind of dense and dark wooded tavern/restaurant, where I wolfed down a veggie burger (with havarti cheese!) and traded dating advice. I am so out of practice!

Home to Lost catch-up and a bit of PONY news from home: Arthur Gregg Sulzberger, the heir-apparent to The New York Times, who had been a county court reporter at the Oregonian, is now at the city desk of the Times. It was expected that he'd end up back east, of course, just glad to add him to the PONY people list. Think we could swap stories? Ha.

Friday, February 20
I had scheduled lunch with Marlene, the Executive Director of ASME, but this time I had to reschedule because of another PawLinks conversation/interview (more on that later). I was able to make a later lunch with Meredith, another fellow ASME intern, at Spring Street Natural, where I had another veggie burger. The perfect food, I swear!

From there I wandered SoHo, got a wedding gift for PJ (another intern, shower on Saturday), and made my way to the Housing Works Bookstore, which Six-Word Memoirs Rachel recommended – she does work there, after all. I could have spent all day there, like the library – looking at room, I suppose it's no surprise I like to be surrounded by books. Unfortunately for my suitcase, I also can't resist buying books, especially vintage ones. This time, I picked up a 1951 review copy of Exploring the Child's World, a collection of insights and advice from a woman who interviewed kids and, unlike many during that time, listened to them as complete human beings with valid ideas, emotions and concerns. So much common sense now, but apparently groundbreaking at the time. It's fascinating to me to see how expert thinking and recommendations change so drastically with the times.

Cool book, but no place to sit and plug in the ancient laptop, so I just left early to stake our window seat at The Magician – same bar as last Friday with the awesomely cheap happy hour. Emily, one of my roommates from the ASME summer, showed up first, so we got to catch up, then Robin, Kim and Kristen (the trio of Brooklyn-dwelling, Hearst-employed ladies, I should note) arrived, making it about half of the ASME crew. When Kim's friend, Adam, joined us, it turned into an evening of coin toss dares and ballpoint pen "tattoos" – I'm stilled faintly marked with the New York Times "T," a lightning bolt heart, and a pair of so-nerdy-they're-now-hipster-cool black glasses. (Adam, a digital artist/designer/tech communication grad student, had been to the Times Open, a day-conference about open source API, using the new public archive of Times articles dating to 1981, full of inimitably searchable and sortable data. Fittingly, the attendees got a Nerd Merit Badge (you can buy your own) bearing the paper's insignia, providing the inspiration for our ink. Long description, but it was all interesting to me – I am a nerd.)

Now, back to the party... Kim and Robin left to go to a show, Adam went to a birthday party, and Mari met up with us, leaving me with two of my best friends to hit the town. Oooooh-kay, yay! We went to Back Room, which serves drinks in teacups and has a speakeasy vibe with its hidden entrance. Yet another library-esque spot (this seems to be the theme) – the VIP room is hidden behind a bookcase. We would have stayed longer, but we needed food, so we hit up Schiller's Liquor Bar, also with a slight '20s style, this time in the form of a hall of mirrors. I ate yet another veggie burger and loved every bite. From there, Kristen went home, and Mari and I went to 205 to meet her friends Jamie and Wes. Nag champa, techno music, but free drinks thanks to their birthday-boy friend. Deal. And I had the hilarious "pleasure" of meeting Cliff III, who is in the shipping business in Singapore, a trade his family has apparently been in for over 200 years. He grew up quite rich in Manhattan and went to prep school in San Francisco and "summered" in Nantucket. He is the first person I've ever met that I think I can call "pedigreed." They really exist, it blew my mind!

I think it was nearing 4am when we finally went to sleep at Mari's. Phew!

Saturday, February 20
Late start, obviously. After looking at the bridal shower invite, I was relieved to see that jeans were acceptable attire. No time to get back to Brooklyn from the Upper East Side – especially with the party in midtown – so I wore my same outfit from the night before. Classy! PJ and Ryan have been dating since before our ASME summer and are getting married in March, and after watching them match nearly every answer on the homemade video Newlywed Game that her friends had organized, I'm more sure than ever they're perfect for each other. So we celebrated a lot, of course, with tons of food, wine, tea and cake. Stuffed.

Kristen and I headed back to her place to refresh for the bachelorette portion of the fun, that same night. I was amazed at the energy I had, considering the hangover that kept me in bed all morning (or maybe that was the trick!). We went to The Randolph, a cozy nightspot, for schmancy, expensive cocktails – I wanted to order PBR – and I managed to stay relatively clear of all the girlie screaming and shrieking. Lots of fun, but huge groups of girls aren't my favorite scene. I stuck with Emily, Meredith and Brooke most of the time, trying to take advantage of the time together. We capped the night with drunken (everyone else) dancing at Happy Ending. Although now that I think about it, I'm not sure anyone really danced because it was so wall-to-wall packed. All that matters is that PJ was drunk and having a blast and telling everyone how much she loves them. That's all you can ask from a bachelorette party, I suppose!

Sunday, February 22 - today!
I ventured out by myself today, which was nice. I'm more content to explore alone in New York than anywhere else. There's so much to see, so much to get done, it's easier to just stick with your own agenda sometimes. This time was a trek to the Brooklyn Flea, which is massive and massively cool in the summer, as I'm told, but smaller and indoors in the winter. Still, the vintage junkie in me had to check it out.

First off, DUMBO (Down Under the Manhattan Bridge Overpass – basically Brooklyn, near the river, between the bridges) looks just like the Pearl. Warehouses turned into lofts, with walls of retail windows on the bottom. When I walked by West Elm, I seriously got confused about where I was. Second, the market was kind of disappointing. Kristen warned me, but I didn't think it would be that small. Probably under 20 vendors, a mix between clothes, jewelry, house decor, photos. I've spent more time and found so many more things I wanted to take home at HOUSE on Hawthorne; I think half my own house is decorated from that vintage warehouse. But still, I did manage to find another vintage book for my collection: Get Wise to Yourself! This one's a doozy, from 1928, full of ways to analyze your physical features and gestures as clues to your personality – it's become an exact science, they say! Does the ball of your foot hit the ground first when you walk? You're "administrative – suggesting the owner or magnate." Do you have large earlobes? Then you are "generous and benevolent." It gets so much better: forehead slopes, nose bulges, lip angles, chin shapes. Please, come over or send me photos so I can analyze you! As they say, "grasp courage by the forelock; sharpen your pencil; put your pride on the ice for a moment, and proceed to the charts with a heart for any fate."

New collection: vintage self-help books. Hilarious.

Quick dinner and margaritas with Kristen to honor National Margarita Day, then up to Mari's to watch the Oscars. We drank Prosecco and ate brownies shaped like train cars (Mari went to Williams-Sonoma today), and Mari and I tied with 16 out of 24 predictions spot on. That's a record for me. Now I'm watching The Soup and should really be asleep.

Oh wait, there's more? Just a few loose ends..... The job stuff. I've had a few more conversations with the business/marketing/strategy person and the product/user experience developer for PawLinks, and I think they've gone really well. The more I talk about it, the more ideas I have. Tomorrow I've got to finish up some research of their plans so far, plus analysis of a few competitors, then I'm talking with the founder again to share some ideas and nail down a plan/expectations for my proposal. I want to do this. But I also need to earn a living.

Last but sooooo not least, I haven't given up on the subway reading lists. I think they deserve their own blog, though, photos and all. It should debut tomorrow. Also, more cool links and information when I can finally catch up on my own web reading and searching. Thanks for reading my diary for now!

*What, you really thought I would post scandalous stuff for the whole world to read on the internet? You'll have to email me personally for that dirt!

Good Morning, New York!

Ok, so it's hardly morning anymore. I meant to write this when I woke up bright and early, ready to take on the day, when the sun shone through the windows and I breathed a sigh of relief that it was going to be near 60 degrees today – hardly the frigid wasteland I'd been warned about. I did, in fact, wake up early, but on principle I just couldn't make myself get out of bed (or off the couch) – it was 6am in Portland. Nuh-uh. That's obscene.

Almost eight hours later, I'm sitting in the Hearst building's gorgeous atrium cafeteria (soon to be seen in Confessions of a Shopaholic - barf). Kristen is upstairs, stressing about her work at Delish.com. What I wouldn't give for some work stress. It felt so good to sit in an office, like I had a purpose again. I know I praised being free from the cubicle farm a few weeks ago, but these aren't cubes...they're airy desks, stocked with new Mac technology. There were cupcakes to be had. All in all, not a bad place to come to work.

Last night, I got re-broken-in to New York as we drove through Queens and East New York from JFK into Brooklyn. Kristen lives in Crown Heights, in an adorable studio that she has painted my favorite shade of brown. I felt like I was at home sinking my toes into same the white shag rug we both bought at IKEA. The anxiety I had been fighting off all day seemed to melt away, like it always does at night, and I eagerly anticipated my first day in the city.

This morning, however, the angst returned. Kristen gave me door-to-door directions from her apartment to her office, and I still felt overwhelmed at the prospect of heading in to Manhattan. I am overwhelmed at the idea of the job I'm interviewing for tomorrow – do I really want the burden of creating a site's editorial strategy from scratch again? And I couldn't figure out what to wear!

Keep it simple, I told myself. One step at a time. Skinny jeans, black-and-white striped sweater, and the Jimmy Choo heels I found for $60 at Last Chance in Phoenix. At least I can pretend to be sophisticated (I don't think anyone saw me just eat that Lunchable in this multi-million dollar cafeteria). Just walk out the door, get on the train. And the minute I descended into the subway, that smell, not bad, not good, but the industry and humanity of the city, I felt happy. That brought me back to all the carefree wonder and possibility of the summer of 2003. I need to try to look at these two weeks the same way. Anything can happen – and whatever that is, it will be the right thing for me.

I'm off now to meet Mari at her office by the MoMA. I need to write three sample blogs tonight to be considered for Glamour's new "I'm in a financial pickle" blog. At least that's what I've been calling it. I have plenty of fodder for that! And then I'm going to paint my nails and watch Top Chef with Kristen and try to savor each and every moment, not worried about what comes next.

Tomorrow: lunch with Mari, job interview at 3pm at Fetch (yes, a doggy-themed restaurant for a pet website interview), and picking up Melissa at Penn Station, who is going to be my Valentine. That's when the adventures will start.

I miss Portland. I can forget that when I'm caught up in the sea of people on the sidewalk or on the subway. I've always loved being in transit. But sitting still... This morning, I woke up and thought for a minute, looking out the window, I could be in my living room, hearing the traffic on Belmont. I just want brown walls like Kristen's.