Our train to NYC was scheduled to leave around noon, so we got up and going around 8:00, got checked out, and started the trek to the subway station with our suitcases and other gear. Things went smoothly and we got to the train station in about a half hour. We’d skipped breakfast figuring we wanted to be sure there were no glitches in our trip to the Amtrak station. We figured we’d be able to find something to eat at the station. There were several options. A Dunkin’ was located right in the big waiting room, and there was a long line of folks waiting to be served. There was also a Pret, in which we both found something we could eat.
I remember in the days of my youth that waiting half an hour for something seemed interminable. At the ripe old age of 72, the several hours we had to wait for our train went by pretty quickly for me. I had my tablet and went for several walks around the place. Before we knew it, our train made it onto the board, and shortly after that we were boarding. We had assigned seats and after juggling our luggage up into the overhead rack, we settled in. It was about a 2 hour ride to the NYC train station. We had a comfortable ride and it was soon time to get off the train.
The train station in NYC is a large, well-used, busy place. We knew the address of our hotel, but had no real idea of how to get there. We moved out of the Amtrak area looking for an information booth to help us navigate the subway system. None presented itself, so I approached a uniformed fellow (I don’t know if he was station security or a policeman) and asked him where the nearest information booth was located. He didn’t seem to know of one, but asked where we were going. I told him the address of the hotel, and he spent a few seconds on his phone and told us to find the 1 train uptown and get off at 50th street. It should be a 5 minute walk from there. So we were off on another quest.
We found our platform without too much trouble and also found an elevator to help us down to the platform with our luggage. “This is easy,” I (foolishly) said to myself. The train came, we got on and were pretty smug about the whole thing. At the first stop there was some kind of a garbled announcement, and no signage that I could see on the walls of the platform. As we were pulling out, I did see a sign that said 50th street. Too late! We were doomed to ride to the next station with our luggage and catch a train going back the way we’d come. We got off at 57th Street and did our best to follow the signs to the downtown “1” train. We thought we’d found it several times, and hauled the luggage up and down stairs with optimism, only to find that we were still in the uptown section. Up and down we went trying to follow the signs. Alice finally asked a fellow traveler how to get to the downtown platform, and what she told us must have finally clicked, because we followed the signage with growing confidence.
I believe that the folks that design the obstacle courses for the military must have grown up in NYC. There were several up and down staircases, long walks through strange looking sections, and finally we were on the correct platform. I was puffing like a steam engine when we finally made it. The train arrived and we took the short ride to the correct station, got off and almost kissed the sidewalk when we made it up the last set of stairs. The GPS on the phone gave us a direction to head, and before long we were walking into the hotel.
The check-in process had its ups and downs. I was pretty much exhausted, and the clerk seemed like he wanted to spend a lot of time querying us regarding situations not relevant to us getting up to our room. I finally told him that we’d surely ask him later if we had any questions, but for now all we wanted was to get to our room and rest. An elevator ride to the 22nd floor and we could finally rid ourselves of that 8 ton package of suitcases and lay down for a bit. Home at last for the next 6 nights.
After a rest we ventured out into the streets of New York. What to say? People walking everywhere, aggressive drivers honking their horns at every opportunity, street crossing lights that were sometimes difficult to see. We soon developed the swagger necessary to navigate the streets.
After walking a few blocks we found ourselves in Times Square. There were lots of people doing all manner of things. We were probably asked 50 times along the way if we wanted to book a Hop On Hop Off tour of the city. We learned how to look straight ahead and keep walking. There were bicycles with a seat in the front for 2 people that were giving people short rides. They were lit up with bright blinking LEDs and were playing music near the sound level of a jet engine at takeoff. The people riding in them seemed to be having a good time though.
We puttered around Times Square for a bit and then headed back to the hotel. There was a Chipotle very close to the hotel, so we got some take-out and brought it back to the room. After a good supper, we read for a while and then crashed. It had been a big day.
Next morning we got up and headed to the Deli that Alice had found the day before. It was well stocked with food or all sorts. They had breakfast burritos that all had meat, so I asked the guy if it was possible to get one without. He said sure and pretty soon it arrived, warm and delicious. This deli advertised as being open 24/7, and was only a few doors down from the hotel. Good find Alice!
After breakfast we bundled up and headed for the Museum of Modern Art (MoMA), which was walking distance from our hotel. After a trip through security and getting our tickets, we began our tour. What a place! As usual, we tried our best to read and understand about each piece of art that attracted us. What we learned is that the intensity of that experience limited the amount of time we could spend doing it. We found a cafe for lunch in the museum, then hit the exhibits again. We wandered with no clear goal in mind when we stumbled into a room with several panels of the famous Monet Water Lilies. I just about fell to my knees. I knew about a museum in France that had been built especially for several panels of this work, but had no idea some of the panels also existed in New York, let alone in the very museum we were in. It wasn’t very crowded, and I was lucky enough to be able to just sit and enjoy this amazing art only a few feet in front of me.
Just about like clockwork, around 2:30 our eyes started glazing over and it was time to start thinking about the trip home. One of the nice features of NYC is its walk-ability. It felt safe to us, and the people that swirled all around us spoke a big variety of languages. They were young to old, thin to fat, and all shapes and sizes.
Navigating through large crowds of folks, especially at street crossings, took some getting used to. When the light changed a bulge of people started walking towards us, and their body language said, “move out of my way chump.” It seemed that we had to learn to exude a similar body language that said, “no, you move!” It generally worked itself out by both of us moving just enough to squeeze past each other. What complicated things was the phones many people held as they were walking. Many folks looked up from their phones infrequently or not much at all. If it seemed I was on a collision course with a phoner, I would just stop in the street and stand there until they snapped out of it and gave some indication whether they planned to move left or right. This didn’t happen often, but when it did, I found it was better to just pause a moment rather than doing a dancer’s pirouette to get out of their way.
Back at the hotel we both decompressed for a while, picked up some carryout supper from one of the two places next to us we’d standardized on, and rested up for Hamilton.
The play Hamilton tells a good story. It has been in NYC for some time, and still has consistently full houses. We sat in the first balcony house right. We were, unfortunately, right next to a bank of speakers, whose job it was to project out into the middle of the house. In order to do that, the volume had to be turned up pretty loud for the folks close to it. The first part of the show involved some rap-type songs, of which I probably understood 10% of the words. I strained to hear for the first while, then gave up, relaxed, and caught whatever was catchable. Some parts of the play were quite loud, and I regretted leaving my hearing protectors home this time. All in all, the show was enjoyable and we were glad we’d seen it. Alice had gotten to work and found us matinee seats in a couple of days for the play about Louis Armstrong called, “A Wonderful World.”
The next day we decided to head to the Guggenheim. The building itself is a work of art, and the artwork inside is hard to describe. Our visit coincided with a large number of Orphism paintings. The work was highly abstract and many involved swirling kaleidoscopes of color. I gave up early on reading about the particular artists of the pieces I was viewing, and instead just stood before each piece and let my mind wander. I found that staring at the work allowed my mind to find a center of the piece, and on occasions I could enter the piece to the exclusion of the world around me. Then the thoughts started coming… things I hadn’t thought about for decades sometimes. Some pleasant, and some not so much. I guess that is what good art should do… take one away from the everyday and into a time and place where the rules are different. When done right one can walk away from it all a different, more resilient person.
Manhattan is an island, which is probably a main reason it became a major metropolitan city. Travel and freight hauling by water was the easiest way to get around before roads and railroad tracks became common. Along with nearby water, another requirement is good deepwater ports. Manhattan has both. I’d heard there were museum ships in NYC, and saw evidence of one in a Bon Jovi music video called “Do What We Can” on YouTube. Armed with that scanty evidence we went to work online, and learned the aircraft carrier Intrepid was a museum and docked close to our hotel. Alice had scored 2 tickets to the matinee performance of “A Wonderful World” that afternoon, and the museum didn’t open until 10:00, so we only had a couple of hours for the tour. How big can an aircraft carrier be? So we rolled up our sleeves and told the GPS to take us to the museum.
The answer: an aircraft carrier can be pretty big. For example, on the flight deck, they’d erected a building to house the Space Shuttle Enterprise. One could walk around the massive thing, walk up on a balcony to look it in the eye, and examine several very good displays in the periphery. The carrier itself was accessible below decks where the sleeping quarters for officers and enlisted men were shown. The kitchen was also there as well as their respective chow halls and relaxing areas. The area just below the flight deck had several displays, including a running video of one of the Intrepid’s battles in the Pacific during World War II. She was hit by two kamikaze aircraft which caused a fire that almost destroyed her. The video was so well done you could feel the ship shake and even see smoke as the emergency grew.
There were several vintage aircraft on the flight deck, including a predecessor to the SR-17, several fighter jets, and helicopters. As our time was getting short we took the elevator down to the dock where the Intrepid was moored, and found there was a submarine on display, and also one of the few remaining Concord SSTs. We skipped the sub but did walk around the Concord. If I ever return to NYC, I hope to be able to spend more time at this complex. Just seeing the bunks where the enlisted men slept got me thinking about my Dad as a teenager shipping out as a marine on a ship to China.
Around noon we left the waterfront and made our way toward the theater. Once we found it and knew we were close, we felt we had time for some lunch. We walked into a deli, but learned they were out of veggie burgers, so we looked around some more, settling on a McDonald’s. A quick lunch later and we were once again on our way to the theater.
“A Wonderful World” really struck me. I can remember as a kid watching the Ed Sullivan show and seeing black performers like Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong. We grew up in a pretty white part of Michigan, so seeing black performers on TV was somewhat of a novelty for me. I knew about Louie’s music, but nothing about his life until this play. The closing song was “What a Wonderful World” which held a special meaning to me. It is the poem I sent to Alice and son Steve in the aftermath of the 9/11 attacks. When the closing song came, I found myself sobbing.
We decided to spend our second to last day in the city at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. After a short subway ride from our hotel, the faithful GPS took us there without a hiccup. Once inside and tickets purchased, we started in on the galleries. What a place! It seemed like no matter what interested one, there was a room devoted to it. The musical instruments made a special impact on me, although there were so many other rooms. We found a cafeteria for lunch and I continued to get tripped up when paying for our meal. When one gets ready to pay with a credit card, things don’t seem to work. The clerk reminded me that I needed to read the screen before I entered my card. On the screen was a question about what percentage of the bill tip I wanted to leave (all calculated out in 10%, 15%, and 20% increments). I’ve always felt that a tip was a reward for good service. In this cafeteria, we chose our own food in the line, put it on our tray, and pushed our tray along until we got to the cashier. It puzzled me that I was being asked how much I wanted to tip the guy I interacted with for about 10 seconds and that said about 5 words to me. This wasn’t the first time this happened on this trip. Tipping felt more and more to me like a tax rather than a reward for good service.
After lunch we were good for a couple of more hours, and then headed back to the hotel to rest. Our normal life at home had few intersections with what we were seeing in these fabulous museums. It being so different meant we had to spend some time finding brain slots for all the new information that was being thrust at us. And this activity, dealing with mostly new, interesting, and soul enriching items minute after minute, hour by hour, wore us down quicker than we’d have liked.
We talked about how we’d like to spend our last day in the city, and came to the consensus that Central Park was our best option. For one, it is more of a natural place than any we’d seen this trip. We have brain slots for lots of what we’d see. For another, the Bethesda fountain beckoned. We got to know this part of the park from the movie “Angels in America,” and had briefly visited once before. This trip we hoped to stretch that visit. So, maps in hand we made our way toward the park.
Once inside, we were first confronted with an “Alice in Wonderland” themed children’s playground. And children were playing there while the adults sat on benches and chatted with each other. Good start. We followed our map towards Bethesda as best we could, not worrying about getting off course. The designers of this park did a great job not destroying everything natural, and it was a pleasure to see mature trees, rocky outcroppings, and *gasp* bodies of water. As we walked in nearly perfect fall weather, we appreciated how we were sharing that space with so many people that seldom see a living thing other than fellow humans. Smiles abounded, and we joined in. A few minutes down the path we were attracted to some commotion, and came upon a “walk for dementia.” Many of the walkers had colorful plastic pinwheels that had been handed out by the organizers, and the wheels were spinning in the breeze. I would have joined in if I could have, losing both my parents to that terrible disease, but when we arrived, it was not clear how to join, and shortly after we got there, the walk ended.
We continued on for a short distance and arrived at the tunnel that led to the fountain. Lots of people seemed to share our love for this place, but it was not hard to find a place to sit and soak up the sunshine. There were buskers in the area, and we sat on a bench near a Native American man who was playing both the pan pipes and a Native American flute. There was something about the natural beauty of the place, and the haunting sounds of his playing that touched my heart. We both gave a generous donation to this artist and walked away with his music playing in the background. Alice bought some Christmas presents from some vendors near the fountain, and then we decided to continue the walk.
Bethesda was located near a small lake that had a concession renting rowboats. Gosh it was entertaining watching these folks attempting to navigate on the lake with their oars. Some did better than others, but I suspect some had to beach their crafts and walk back to the renter’s pavilion and pay them to bring the boat back. The trail took us around that little lake, and we were both struck by how lucky we were to have our ponds and small boats that we could use any time we wanted to.
We continued our walk until we returned to where we’d started, and were surprised by how many hours had elapsed since we’d entered the park. What a great finish to our stay in NYC, and a good rest for the final leg of our trip; the train journey back to Chicago, then to Milwaukee, and then to our car and back home.
By now we were knowledgeable enough about the subway not be too worried about getting to the Amtrak station. Our train was scheduled to leave after 3:00 PM, so we had plenty of time to assemble our gear, check out and make our way to the subway. We then boarded the subway for Penn station, headed out to the sidewalk and across the road to the train station, and sat in the Metropolitan Lounge. We’ve been to a few of these train lounges over the years, but this one took the cake. It was clean and comfortable, there was a snackbar with all manner of food from snacks to meals, and drinks. All free as long as you are qualified to be in there. A clerk checked us in by scanning our ticket, and since we were in a sleeper, we were waved inside with a smile.
After we got settled, Alice did what she does so well, and started a conversation with a traveler sitting across the coffee table from us. She was a mother of 5; 2 of her own and 3 adopted. She had traveled to the city with a couple of her female friends for a lady’s weekend out. We really clicked with this woman, and the time until her train was called vanished in a puff of conversation. Our seats were within sight of a monitor that showed the status of the various trains leaving the station, and before long, our train came up on the screen, and slowly climbed up the queue until it was time for us to board.
Getting on the train was a bit confusing, because the sleeper car assigned to us had no place for our luggage. If you’ve ever been in a sleeper car, you know there is no room in there for luggage. The porter told us we could put our stuff in room 6, which had no occupants for the trip, so we did as we were told, found our room, settled in, and let out a sigh. Once we were in the system, we could almost smell our home in the northwoods.
Neither of us sleep great on the train, but we do sleep better than we would in the reclining seats in coach. And this particular room had a feature we’d not seen in our previous Amtrak experience. There was a covered toilet and flip-down sink in the room. Now, if you’ve ever been inside an Amtrak roomette, you know it’s small. Somehow the clever designers figured out a way to install toilet facilities in each roomette. We were skeptical about using the toilet in such close proximity to each other, but we surprised ourselves by how uncomplicated it felt. We enjoyed the supper in the dining car. At our request the attendant converted our room to bunk beds, and we gratefully called it a day.
The next morning we headed to the dining car for breakfast and were cheered to learn the train was ahead of schedule. We’d booked our connecting train trip from Chicago to Milwaukee on a train several hours after our scheduled arrival. There was an earlier train, and if we could catch it, we’d be able to start the drive home a couple of hours sooner, which appealed to us. This time of year it gets dark early, and being on the road in the dark is extra tiring for us. When we made it to Chicago, we did our best to organize the luggage and follow the signs to the ticket agent. After a short wait we learned we could change our ticket for the earlier train for about $30. We said yes and headed to the lounge to wait. Soon it was time to board, and the train was packed. We fortunately got on early enough to stow our gear and find seats next to each other. Several people after us had to stand until the first stop because no more seats were available. In a few hours, we arrived at the Milwaukee train stop. We contacted the hotel and waited for the shuttle to arrive. A short drive in Milwaukee traffic and we were dropped off at our car. Thinking our troubles were over, I loaded up the luggage and started it up.
Error messages screamed at us on the console. There were 4 that kept repeating that talked about stabilizers, and other things. The car ran fine and we were informed that all wheel drive had been cancelled, but that didn’t matter, so we cautiously headed out of the driveway and onto the highway. With a few stops for food and fuel, we made it home in 6 or 7 hours… grateful to have that couple of hours we’d gained by catching the earlier train. Home!
A trip to the mechanic and $500 later, we learned that an ABS sensor had died in the front left wheel bearing. The only repair was to replace the wheel bearing. This is not the first time this has happened with this car.