On Sunday (last Sunday) Berck got up and took a shower, then bounced on the air bed while he put on his socks. He finally settled down on the couch with his MacBook, and I thought I might get to catch a few more Z’s but no. “Jonah, time to get up,” he said, so I got up and washed my hair. Berck coaxed Sydney up to get breakfast. Her roommate offered to make us coffee, but Berck said we were leaving in a couple of minutes. An hour later, and very thirsty, I still hadn’t gone anywhere and was thinking I should always take up an offer of coffee.

In the meantime, Berck did a search of eggs Benedict and New York City. He discovered a website dedicated to reviews of just that. There was a place in Park Slope that recommended some, so we took a couple of Subway rides over and discovered Dizzy’s: A Finer Diner right at the top of the stairs. Of course, it being Sunday morning, there was a 45 minute wait. Berck and Sydney had to extract cash from their bank accounts having used up all of our reserves the night before, so we put our name down and went in search of an ATM. After waiting a bit, Berck went in to try to get us some coffee and discovered three empty seats at the counter. We were in business! Berck had the eggs Benedict, of course, but with fries instead of home fries. Syd had some nut French toast, and I had challah French toast stuffed with cream cheese and grilled pineapple with a plate of the best corn beef hash ever on the side.

Syd had a party to go to that afternoon, to which she could bring one of us but not both of us, so Berck and I went to the Met, which is “free.” We gave a donation of $2. I wanted to look at the Greek stuff, but took Berck to see the exhibit of pop art on paper and then the clocks, which he enjoyed very much. Next he indulged my desire to look at the armor, which as a male, he couldn’t resist enjoying. We only had a few minutes before they closed, so we went back to the clocks to hear them strike 5, and then up to ancient Near East, where we looked at very old stuff until they kicked us out.

We came out of the Met, and Berck examined his map to figure out how to get to Washington Heights. “We just hop on a cross town bus!” I said. He answered that yes, but which one? There was a bus right across the street, and we ran across, swiped our passes, and sped across Central Park, then hopped off at the next stop, right were we could catch the A train north.

We stopped and bought a bottle of wine on the way to Kelsey and Liz’s apartment.
Gato Negro is cheap and very delicious. I had found a Korean BBQ place for us to go to, but then I discovered conflicting information about whether or not they were open on Sundays. I called but got voice mail, which made me think they were, in fact, not. So I spent the next hour looking for an “ethnic” place to eat while everyone else played Wii tennis. Kelsey said there were a ton of Indian places in the Lower East Side on Curry Row, so I did a search and found a place that looked very promising.

Remembering Berck and Sydney’s conversation about texting versus voice mail, I dutifully texted Sydney the name of the restaurant, Angon on the Sixth, between 1st and 2nd. But I text so laboriously that by the time I finally came to the end of it, I forgot to add “Ave” and instead added “St.” We then got on the Subway and took an A train down that was making local stops because of weekend construction, so it took forever. We were almost to our destination before I got Sydney’s reply that 6th Avenue between 1st and 2nd Street doesn’t exist. It’s a good thing she didn’t try to meet us at this imaginary location since I’d gotten my streets and avenues mixed up.

Then we had to walk cross town, but Kelsey led us up and down blocks because 6th Street was closed. Berck and Liz both had to expel the wine and good Czech beer we’d drunk. We stopped at a McDonald’s, but there was a hand written sign inside that said, “Restroom is broken. So sorry.” So we hiked up another street toward a Starbucks, but right then we were passing a theater with a play letting out. Kelsey took advantage of his stage experience to suggest Berck and Liz run inside and blend in with all of the theater goers relieving themselves after the performance. Then we walked down the other side of the block and finally found our restaurant.

We were not disappointed. It was the best Indian I’ve had on the East Coast. Both the meat and vegetable samosas were excellent. After much discussion, Berck and Kelsey split some lamb vindaloo and another lamb dish that was very delicious. I ordered a spicy Kashmiri chicken dish that was very good, and Liz got a very good chicken korma. The nan was the best I’ve ever tasted. “Uncle Milton” made sure we stayed stocked with Maharaja beer and told us of an Irish pub to visit afterward.

We played pool at Dempsey’s, boys against girls. Liz and I actually won one game. Berck was excited that they had Laphroaig Scotch and ordered Kelsey a glass. The last game of pool we were all so tired we finally had to just quit playing; no one could hit any of the balls in.

We decided to call it a night, and Kelsey and Liz hugged us goodbye quickly before hopping in a cab, leaving Berck and me to find our own way home. Fortunately, Manhattan is easy, and we were only a couple of blocks from a stop on the F train. At 2:30 in the morning, the A doesn’t run very often, and we had to wait a very long time for our connection at Jay. I packed as well as I could, set my alarm for 5:30 am, and collapsed into the air mattress around 3 am.

I made it to the express Subway stop by 6 and waited for a train to come. A train arrived on the lower, local level, and everyone ran down to catch it. I did too, but I couldn’t see a sign saying if it were an A or C! “Is this an A or a C?” I asked the few inhabitants of the car. Two young black men in baggy pants looked up and said at the same time, “A!” Late at night, and early in the morning, no C’s run. I still had to make sure I was on the right A. Half of them go to JFK. The others go somewhere else. I settled myself down with my new map I’d awoken the station attendant for the night before because I’d left Berck’s map at Kelsey’s apartment. Berck laughed at me for asking for two, since I had all of one Subway trip left, but now it was coming in useful. The A train I was on would not go to JFK, so I would have to get off at the last common stop. In the meantime, I settled down and read my science fiction novel as we stopped at every single local stop. The two guys sitting across from me amused me with their conversation. I couldn’t hear much of what they said but got enough that it was pretty mundane stuff. But one would interject each of his sentences with “F—in,’” while the other interspersed every other word with “N—-er,” except he ended it with an “ah.” Occasionally, the N-word guy would add an F-word to his sentence, as if to bridge the linguistic gap between them. “F—in’ right, n—-ah.”

At my stop, the train stopped right across the platform from another A, and it seemed like everyone on my train ran over to it. But I asked someone, and it wasn’t the right one. Fortunately, I didn’t have to wait long for another one, and then I was at JFK. I bought an AirTrain pass for my final journey to the airport and walked right out over to Delta first class check-in. I only needed a kiosk, so I punched in my number and got my boarding pass. There was only one group going through first class security, so I thought I’d see if I could get through it. The TSA agents all looked terribly bored doing nothing. Sure enough, they marked my boarding pass and let me go through, no line or anything. Of course, on Delta I actually can fly in first class, if there’s room.

There was room, in fact. I settled into my over-sized seat and promptly fell asleep. I woke up when they announced they’d be serving breakfast, a hot egg “quesadilla,” fresh fruit, and a multigrain bun with butter and jelly. My body was more or less awake by now, so I watched two movies on the in-flight entertainment: Michael Clayton and The Kingdom.

We got to Denver late. I picked up my car and drove straight to work, stopping at a gas station to get a Coke so I wouldn’t fall asleep. I worked for a couple of hours, nothing that required much thought, came home and made myself stay awake the rest of the day. I took a bath and fell asleep in the water, then roused myself and went to bed. And wouldn’t you know it but I was too tired to fall asleep.