NY See: Hard to say goodbye

The biggest problem with New York is there are too many things to do and see. If you’re a resident, you get to do it whenever you can. If you’re a visitor, you have to plan accordingly, making sure you hit all the stops in the allotted time.

Since I’m checking out at noon, I still have to hit the Upper West Side – which includes the Time Warner Centre, Lincoln Centre, and Broadway North – and Central Park.
The next several hours are spent with me running around, taking a series of photos, and looking at my watch every few seconds to make sure I’m not late getting back to the hotel. Since I’m meeting Billy and Chris for lunch in Union Square, the last thing I want is to shell out an extra fee on top of the (somewhat) exorbitant amount I already paid for the room.

When I get back to the hotel, I pack my carryall and leave it in storage (for an extra $2), and walk down to Union Square.

Strolling down Broadway, the storefronts gradually change from jewellery and tourist shops hawking “I ♥ NY” paraphernalia to mid-to-high end stores. The design of many of the buildings is breathtaking for someone who appreciates architecture. Every so often, I pull out my camera to take the occasional shot.

Union Square is alive with a farmers market and people out enjoying their lunch on a sunny day. As I wait outside Diesel for Chris, I get a call from inside the store, saying he’s buying a pair of jeans to replace one he wasn’t too happy with. That’s strange, I think, I’ve been outside the store for the past 15 minutes and I didn’t see him go inside.

I meet him inside, he gets his pants, and we talk to two very cute SAs (who claim they don’t hear an accent – I instantly fall in love with them) before we leave.

Once we’re done, we go looking for Billy in the square. He calls me on my phone, asking where we are. He’s exiting the subway, but he can’t find us. We meet up at the intersection where the market begins and head off to lunch.

Both of them cater to my whim of having falafel since I haven’t experienced what it means to eat one. In a hole-in-the-wall place off on 17th Street, we get our lunch. Chris declines my offer of paying for his as a long-delayed birthday “present” while Billy chooses a falafel-less sandwich.

We find a spot on the bench under some trees. In-between talks about Smallville (it’s still on?) and Footballer’s Wives (there’s going to be a shocking death in season four), I look out into space and don’t say much. I’m not sure whether or not Billy and Chris noticed because they were entertained by the “performance” of one particular person who was unwontedly kissed.

To me, being in the park, right now, epitomizes living in the moment. I don’t even realize the sauce is sliding through my fingers and running down my hand and arm because my mind is trying to remember the colours of the trees, the wind breezing through my hair, and the crunch of fine gravel being walked over by a series of feet.

Chris leaves first since he has to go to work. We say our goodbyes and I walk with Billy to the subway. I ask him how to get to Washington Square from here and remind him that I have a terrible sense of direction. He gives me foolproof directions (walk until Fifth Avenue, turn left and keep walking until I hit the arch), and we say our goodbyes. I thank him for coming all the way down to have lunch.
On my way down to Fourth Street, I take a leisurely pace down Fifth Avenue until I reach my destination. When I get to the park, I sit cross-legged under a tree and pull out a magazine from my mitchel. Instead of reading, I take in the sights and sounds of the environment. There are people catching some rays and eating ice cream, and a jazz/swing band is playing music in the near distance. I see, breathe, listen, and touch as much as I can for future reference.

With the magazine on my lap, I smile to myself.

From the time I arrived, I quickly got caught in the rain, went to MOMA (after having Billy save my ass by letting me leave my carryall at his work), went to Therapy, met some great people and had to say goodbye to them, watched The Drowsy Chaperone, saw the sights (which included Andy Roddick and the faux Paris Hilton), and took over 350 pictures (some of which are usable).

But, it’s time to go, and I’m reluctant to leave.

Going up Broadway, I enter a few stores (ABC Carpet and Home, being one that I’ve wanted to go to for years) and treat myself to a decent dinner and dessert. The empty fork is held in my hand for too long, wanting to pick at the food that's no longer on my plate.

I wish I could stay longer. If I had the chance, I would. If I had a job offer, I’d be here tomorrow. But, I am only a visitor, not a resident.

By the time my ride takes me further away from the city, the illuminated skyline grows smaller with every kilometre driven in the opposite direction.

Craning my neck as far as it can go, I look at the city as it slowly fades from view. I have to turn around. I can’t see the city anymore, not because I’m supposed to, but because I have to.