The Big Apple, Part the Last.

In which I discover I cannot fly.

Check-out time at the Y is 11:30 a.m., but I didn't really need to be at LaGuardia much before 2:00, so they keep my luggage in a holding room, freeing me up to make one last shopping trip.

I head over to Rockefeller Center. I wanted to see the ginormous tree. And it was ginormous, indeed. And also a very crowded place to be. Suddenly I discover a J. Crew store and remember that Michael had mentioned he loved their stuff. I also recall that he prefers 100% cotton, so in I go. I leave a short time later with a lovely sweater for him. I continue to wander the shops under Rockefeller Plaza, picking up a few Christmas gifts for friends along the way.

Finally, after a quick snack, I decide I will retrieve my suitcase and get a cab to LaGuardia. Simple. I am at the airport at 1:45 p.m. and my flight isn't until 4:00. The nice thing about LaGuardia is that they have bars and restaurants you can visit before going in through security. I am pretty hungry, so I stop and have a burger while listening to my iPod. I head through security around 3:00 (and it was pretty slow-moving, I must say). I arrive at the gate in plenty of time for boarding, and at 3:55 I am in my seat, ready to nap during the flight.

And that is the last positive feeling I recall. At 4:10 the captain gets on the p.a. and informs us that one of the airline ground crew has discovered a fluid leak at the tail end of the plane. They have to investigate, and it will take about 35 minutes. So we wait. And wait. And wait. Finally, back comes Captain Cheerful with the news that it will take at least another 45 minutes to an hour, so we are free to get off the plane and stretch, etc. Fifteen minutes later, everyone is taken off the aircraft, which has been deemed unfit for flying. There is a 5:00 flight, but it is full and already late. There had been a 6:00, but it was cancelled, so all those passengers are being moved to the 8:00 flight. The 8:00 fills up quickly, too.

I return to the main ticketing area, where I am moved to the next flight, which will be at 6:00 a.m. Saturday. I am able to connect with Michael via my cell phone, but it starts to beep the "low battery" alert, so I tell him I will re-charge it and call him later. I proceed to the lower level to retrieve my suitcase... which has been put on the 6:00 flight and is now on its way to O'Hare, where I can pick it up Saturday morning when I arrive. And, of course, my cell phone charger is in the suitcase.

I don't think $130 is a fair price for a gross airport hotel, particularly when it's almost 9:00 by now and I'd have to get up by 4:30 a.m. to ensure I don't miss the 6:00 flight. So it's LaGuardia for me. The main food court is closed, as is security and all the gates, so it appears there is nowhere comfortable to sleep. On the opposite end of the airport, though, I find one of those Au Bon Pain restaurants open all night, so I can have some hot soup and a Diet Coke. Further wandering brings me to a small waiting area, near the "Dentist" sign. While ruminating on how odd it is that there is a dentist at LaGuardia Airport, I find an unoccupied chair and plop down to sleep.

It's not comfortable, but I manage to sleep. For one hour. Then I am awakened by a woman's voice, "Your attention, please. Your security is very important to us. Be sure to keep all your belongings with you at all times. Unattended bags will be confiscated by the New York City Police. Thank you for your cooperation." I fall back asleep. For another hour. And then I hear it again: "Your attention, please. Your security is very important to us. Be sure to keep all your belongings with you at all times. Unattended bags will be confiscated by the New York City Police. Thank you for your cooperation." I fall asleep again. For one hour. You get the idea.

Finally, it's 5:00. I get to my gate and board without incident. At 6:10, the captain gets on the p.a. and announces that one of the gauges in the cockpit is giving a false reading. "Equipment malfunction" is the technical term. Twenty minutes later, an idiot from the gate desk gets on the p.a. and announces, "This plane will not be flying today. Please return to the gate-- oh, wait a minute." After 5 more minutes, the idiot gets back on. "The Captain has gotten the okay. We'll be taking off in 5 minutes. Please stay seated." What an asshole. We leave at 7:00, and I finally walk back in the door of my house at 9:15 a.m.

And, yes, my suitcase was right where it was supposed to be at O'Hare. But what was missing from all this? Two simple words from any United employee: "We apologize." No apology, no offer to put anyone up at a hotel for the night, no offer of travel vouchers. Not that I'd use one. I believe I'm done with the Unfriendly Skies.

And that's it. We won't even go into the winter storm that hit that afternoon right as I left my therapist's office, stranding me on the Eisenhower expressway for three hours. We just won't even discuss that.

The Big Apple, Part the Third.

In which I make a choice.

So the stagehand strike had ended. I awoke feeling a bit tentative of stomach, still feeling abdominal pains, now even not while eating. After a quick visit to Starbuck's, I once again took the subway to 42nd. I stopped in the Virgin Records MegaStore on Broadway, which ended up being a lengthy visit. The cd of LoveMusik has been released, and I was able to listen to selections from it... it's a Kurt Weill / Lotte Lenya biographical musical, with some really interesting songs. My acquaintance (and dear old friend of AnnieGrace and my beloved NanaSue-- who's not my Nana, but we call her that anway), Annie Morrison, was in LoveMusik and I had heard the cd was not finished, but there it was.

By the time I got to the tkts line, it was already hideously long. News of the strike ending had seemingly reached every living soul in New York, as it appeared they were all waiting there. I had already ordered my ticket to see Liz Callaway's cabaret show, Between Flights. What to do? Forfeit the mere $30 I had spent for her show and wait in line for a half-price ticket to a Broadway show, or stick with my original plan? I puffed away on a cigarette while trying to decide.

What should I do? What would you do? Well, I started looking at my choices...

Mary Poppins: no. Not even with a spoonful of sugar.

The Drowsy Chaperone: a real contender, but it is coming to Chicago, and all the big-name folks have left the Broadway production.

Spring Awakening: I'm terrified of not liking this show.

Avenue Q: I will see it one day. I'm still smarting from the Tony it stole from Wicked.

Xanadu: Cheyenne Jackson in short-shorts on roller skates. Tempting, but no.

August: Osage County: well, I had a ticket for the previous night, which I could have used had the Broadway strike ended one day sooner. I felt robbed about this, but had I seen it, I never would have met Ryan Idol.

There were lots of other choices, of course. But then I looked at the line again, knowing I'd be standing there for quite some time. The tkts window didn't even open for another 45 minutes, and then it would be another 45 minutes at least.

I chose Liz. And I am glad I did. She was sparkling, upbeat, comfortable, endearing, and as always, blew me away. The three highlights were my old faves of hers: "Meadowlark," "There Won't Be Trumpets," and "The Story Goes On." Her rendition of "Not a Day Goes By" was pretty, but not nearly intense enough. She also did a lot of tunes from the 1960's ("You Don't Own Me," "Leaving On a Jet Plane"), which was different and kind of nice.

So, given the option of a Broadway show or Liz Callaway, I chose Liz. And, to quote a lyric from Baby, the musical that made her famous, "I know I chose right."

Next up, The Big Apple, Part the Last: In Which I Discover I Cannot Fly.

The Big Apple, Part the Second.

In which I meet a porn star and a little mermaid.

Ah, New York. It was cold and crisp weather as I ventured out to Starbuck's after sleeping late. I headed directly to the subway once again and got off at 50th St. As planned, I stopped in at Colony Records, where I browsed for about a half hour, then down into the theatre district. When I arrived at Times Square, it was almost lunchtime, so I decided it was time for my hot pastrami on rye at the Roxy Deli. While it was delicious, every bite had my abdominal pain acting up. I called the doctor's office to find out the results of my scan from Monday. According to my doctor's nurse, the results were fairly normal, but doctor suggested I go to a surgeon next week, since my symptoms had been so long-lasting and getting worse. The surgeon he suggested is the same guy who did my mom's colon surgery years ago, and she loved him, so that's on my agenda for next week.

On to several stores: One Shubert Alley, the Drama Book Shop, and various others. I picked up a few small items to give as Christmas gifts. Finally, around 2:45, I got in line at the tkts booth, temporarily located at the Marriott Marquis. I decided to see The Ritz, which is playing at Studio 54. I was done by 3:05, ticket in hand, for only $45. I returned to the Y and laid down to take a nap. God, I was feeling old.

When I awoke, I had plenty of time to shower and get ready, then I headed to 54th St. There was a nice bar right near Studio 54, so I stopped there for a cocktail. Then to the theatre.

The Ritz was delightful and funny. it is a revival of a Terrence McNally play from the 70's. There was a movie version, which I recall seeing years ago somewhere on cable, and it was great fun. It's a farce set in a gay bathhouse-- remember those? The main character is Proclo, a straight, Italian, middle-aged man running from his vengeful brother-in-law, who promised his dying father he would kill Proclo. Proclo is hiding out in the bathhouse and madcap zaniness ensues. Rosie Perez plays Googie Gomez, the "entertainer" at the bathhouse. The role of Googie was created for Rita Moreno. Rosie was brilliant... her tour de farce performance that closed act one was phenomenal and side-splittingly funny. All the performers were top-notch, and the director was Joe Mantello, who also directed McNally's Love! Valour! Compassion! (on stage and film) and Wicked. One of the bit players in the cast is Ryan Idol, who found great success in the 80's as a gay porn star. He spends the entire show, as a patron of the bathhouse, wearing only a small towel. He did a very nice job. I felt particularly proud to see him in a Broadway show, as I have had sex with him (via video and in my mind) thousands of times.

After the show, there was an impromptu auction for Broadway Cares / Equity Fights AIDS. They auctioned off Ryan's towel to the highest bidder. They made $800! It was so fun. On a high, I made my way to the exit of the theatre, where I saw a sign: "Gay & Lesbian Event Tonight. Please Join Us at The Ritz, 369 W. 46th St. Bring Your Ticket Stub for Entry." I was intrigued. Off I went. The Ritz is a gay bar on restaurant row, just down the street from Joe Allen. I arrived there to find that my ticket stub gained me access to a special party upstairs, with FREE DRINKS! All Absolut drinks, beer, wine and pop were FREE! I was delighted. As I sipped my third drink (an Appletini), suddenly I spied him-- Ryan Idol. He had come to this event! I was standing on a short stairway and he approached. I touched his (firm and solid) bicep and said, "The show was great. You were great." "Thank you so much. That means a lot." "And thank you for the years of pleasure you gave me." He leaned in and hugged me, then went on his way.

Still on a high from the booze and meeting Ryan, I went outside to have a cigarette. I met three wild young girls from Manhattan who all went to the Boston Conservatory and came to NYC to "make it." They were about 23 years old but very funny... The Ritz is one of their favorite hangouts. They latched onto me, and we had lots of laughs. Suddenly, out of nowhere, there was this small young lady and they all went wild. It was Chelsea, another one of their group, and this one is understudying Ariel in the about-to-open The Little Mermaid on Broadway. She was squealing with excitement because she had just gotten the call that the stagehand strike was over. They all cheered and carried on. It was so thrilling. I hung with them a bit, then went on my way... back to my room and to call Michael.

On the way, I caught sight of the Lincoln Center Christmas tree and ran to my room to get my camera. Isn't it beautiful?

Next up.... Part the Third, In Which I Make a Choice.

The Big Apple, Part the First.

In which I leave and spend my first day in NYC.

My flight, scheduled for 11:00 a.m. Chicago time, was delayed 2 hours due to cloud cover in NYC. LaGuardia only had one runway open for incoming and outgoing flights. Eventually, they opened a second runway, and we were off.

I arrived at LaGuardia, got my luggage, and took a taxi to the West Side YMCA, my modest home for the trip. I arrived at my room at 4:30. It was like a dorm room-- spare, bland, but clean. I had kind of a cool view of the Upper East side from my window, shown here. I took out my ticket for Young Frankenstein to double-check the theatre... lucky thing I did, as I noticed that the curtain was at 7:00 p.m., not 8:00! I quickly changed, then got on the subway at 59th St. and walked out onto 42nd St... just as I had remembered it. Full of light, life, energy, people... and a lot of stagehands walking around with picket signs. I grabbed some pasta for dinner and got myself to the Hilton Theatre with plenty of time to spare. My seat was the back row of the orchestra, center, right in front of the tech booth. Excellent seat.

The show was delightful and amusing. I agree with some points I've read in the reviews: Roger Bart in the Gene Wilder role of Frederick Frankenstein (pronounced Frohnk-en-shteen) was just kind of there. His singing and dancing were charming, but he doesn't seem to embody the descent into madness that Wilder so beautifully personified. His intentions and motivations are never clear. Megan Mullally was divine in the Madeline Kahn role, and her speaking voice sounded reminiscent of Charles Busch's lady cop in the campy film Psycho Beach Party. Sutton Foster was delightful and Andrea Martin (Frau Blucher) and Christopher Fitzgerald (Igor) stole the show, in my opinion. I disagree with reviewers who feel Susan Stroman went over the top with the "Puttin' on the Ritz" number, or that it was too long. It was fantastic, and this show needs a showstopper like that. Shuler Hensley's Monster was brilliant in this number.

My biggest critique is of the score. It's all re-hashes of songs we've heard before, both by Mel Brooks as well as many others. It's musical comedy 101. Mel Brooks' score for The Producers worked so well because the show was a send-up of Broadway itself, so the songs were essentially pastiche. Here, the songs seem forced and inserted uncomfortably. One or two of them are cute ("He Vas My Boyfriend" is hilarious, mostly because of Andrea Martin), but in general, the songs are a dumb yawn.

After the show I was exhausted from my travels, so I went to my room and went right to bed.

To be continued with Part the Second, In Which I Meet a Porn Star and a Little Mermaid.

Great Info on the Strike.

Here is an excellent informational article that explains exactly what is going on in New York City. I'm not expecting to see any Broadway shows up and running by the time my vacation is over.

And I'm totally okay with that.

What To Do in the Big Apple.

Well, the stagehands' strike continues indefinitely. I have my precious ticket to Young Frankenstein, which I plan to love despite the lukewarm reviews. I have no doubt it will be entertaining. The other Broadway shows that are up and running do not interest me, particularly after seeing bits of them in the Macy's Thanksgiving Parade. I mean, Xanadu? Mary Poppins? Not so much.

What does interest me is Liz Callaway's cabaret show, Between Flights. I had the opportunity to see her (and meet her) here in Chicago a couple years ago in concert with her sister, Ann Hampton Callaway, and I'm a huge fan. And at $30, it's a steal.

Also intriguing is The Piano Teacher, an off-Broadway play starring Elizabeth Franz. I saw her in Death of a Salesman opposite Brian Dennehy, and she was fantastic. I think these little off-Broadway jewels appeal to me anyway, because VTG, where I do a lot of theatre, is very much like some of those venues in terms of physical space as well as material.

I will make the obligatory visit to the Roxy Deli for a hot pastrami on rye. I will stop in Colony Records. I will most definitely spend an afternoon at the Drama Bookshop. And I will visit the Broadway Cares / Equity Fights AIDS office to purchase some Christmas gifts.

Beyond that, I'll just let NYC do its thing and take it all in. Alone in the big city, for the first time.