NYC part one

Last year, I went to New York City with my two cousins, Cindi and Jennifer. I am fortunate enough to be in Manhattan several times a year and I have a small but certifiably whacked group of friends that I try to see when there. We were determined to show my cousins a good time and in reflection, I think we accomplished that goal.

First of all, I should tell you about Jennifer. She is sweet, petite and wickedly funny. And I love her, especially since like me, she got Grammie's arse in the gene lottery. Jennifer married a handsome, outdoorsy, man's man with these killer blue eyes. You look at him and just know he could have been frat boy bad but he chose instead to be this great dad who accidentally burns down summer cottages every now and then. Their two sons are athletic, social and in no time, they will be beating the girls off. They reside in a rural town in eastern Canada in a house they built and they've known their friends most of their lives. They are a Norman Rockwell painting.

Cindi is tall, legs up to her armpits, uber chic and well traveled. When she laughs, it bubbles up out of her in massive, uncontrolled waves. And I love her, especially because she is a rail thin girl who eats like a horse and makes no apologies. Of course, anyone who consumes that much spelt and soy should be given a medal for extreme personal sacrifice. Cindi married a South African, razor sharp wit who can make the most mundane situations positively hysterical. And when he swears in Afrikaans, you do not need to speak the language to understand. They have two beautiful children who are smart, charming and creative beyond description. They live in a busy, metropolitan area of Canada in a fabulous house and they lead a truly cosmopolitan life. They are Eurpoean in their sensibilities.

We all arrived at La Guardia at roughly the same time. Cindi was able to get a direct flight so she was well rested. I had been there for days on business. Jen had come from eastern Canada via Siberia to NYC in order to use those fabulously inflexible Aeroplan miles that the monopolyAir Canada doles out. She may have been traveling for several months trying to traverse the 1500 or so miles. She was understandably tired but excited to be in the Big Apple. I couldn't wait to watch Jen's face as she experienced her first yellow cab ride into the city.

Yellow cabs have never let me down. You get in and the driver is a foreigner who has an accent so thick that you generally make conversation by nodding, smiling and talking LOUDLY because we all know that English is so much better understood if we BELLOW. Your fingernails must be longer so you can use them to anchor yourself in the back seat while your driver makes new and creative lane changes. Once you are through the tunnel and in Manhattan, the true flavour of the ride shows up. Do you remember DeNiro in "Taxi"? "You lookin' at me?" It is not a stereotype. While Jennie was enthralled with the scenery (like we all are our first time in New York), our driver was in a flip the bird, eff you contest with one of his fellow cabbies.

My friends had secured us a killer deal at the Mandarin Oriental and the folks at check in said that our hostess had upgraded us to a nicer room with a better view. We were so excited. We got up to the room and found champagne, bath gifts, slippers and sinful nibbles. Then, there was the bathroom. I could easily have lived, with my two kids in that room. It contained one of those rain showers and a tub meant for a party. So we cracked open the bubbly, toasted our fabulous selves and then hit the streets.

Part two tomorrow including Richie the Octopus and the Pedicab man we nearly killed.

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