quick trip to nyc (m)

I drive to New York to bring my son, Sam, some things for Fall....his Barbour jacket, a comforter for his bed and "shoe covers" for when it rains.  Shoe covers?  You mean rubbers? I ask.  I notice he can't ask his mother to bring him rubbers. The word will not pass his lips.  I order some Totes on Amazon and pack up the car.

I tell Sam we will go out for dinner.  "Mexican?" he asks.  No...too fattening I say.  "Italian?" he asks.  No, no, I say.  Something good.  I suggest seafood or steak.  I tell him that if I'm coming all the way from Boston, I don't want to go to some burger joint.

"Okay," he says later.  "I booked Palmone".  That's how I heard it.  Palmone.  All one word.  Palmone turns out to be The Palm.  Not cheap.

Sam travels in packs, so he invites 5 close friends.  It's always been this way with Sam.  The more the merrier. 

Lyn and I get a manicure/pedicure before we head to the restaurant.  It's cheaper to get this done in New York and I needed it as I noticed a woman staring at my chipped crimson toenail polish while in a meeting the day before.

What a treat.  The best mani/pedi followed by a 15-minute backrub on one of those massage chairs.  It was so good and Sara's hands were so strong, I fell asleep.  Thankfully, there was a napkin on the part where I put my face so that the drool was contained.

All this for $39.

Lyn's post described the whole scene at the restaurant.  It was excellent and surprisingly affordable given the prix fixe option.  Lyn starts out, of course, by asking the waiter to take our picture.  This, coupled with the fact that she insisted on sitting next to me at an empty table set for eight, made me feel compelled to tell the waiter we were not a lesbian couple....not that there's anything wrong with that.

I slept in Lyn's son's bed.  I think it's a trundle bed.  I'm 5'3 1/2" and my feet hit the footboard during the night. 

We get up, dress, and head out.  We walk and walk and walk.  This, to me, is the biggest difference in our lifestyles.  You walk everywhere in New York and drive everywhere in Boston, especially in the suburbs.  My legs start to burn after about 3 hours.  It does feel good.

We walk to Park Avenue and I text Sam who comes down for a hug and kiss.  I give him $20 even though he will make more than I do this year.  It's like when my grandmother used to slip me a Hershey bar every time she saw me.  This, at least, has zero fat.

Lyn and I continue our walking/talking/shopping expedition. 

At 2:40 p.m., I get in my car, cheeks red, knees throbbing, and head home.

Just a quick jaunt to the Big Apple to change the pace of my life.