Okay, maybe a little more
Vamoose $60 RT (clean buses, professional drivers, on time arrivals and departures, ample luggage handlers, no complaints)
Hotel Chelsea ($220, tax included, one night)
Phantom of the Opera $98
Anything Goes $128
Metropolitan Museum of Art $25
Food and tips $75
Two days of theatre and museums in the Big Apple where business is driven by competition, and employees everywhere are friendly, enthusiastic, knowledgeable, and act like they would do anything to accommodate a customer's request.
NYC employees lack the typical snarly D.C. attitude of egos. (Exception: the subway staff at the 23rd Street stop)
Then why don't you move to NYC? The litter?
Folks, we are downright spoiled in Washington, D.C. with all our free museums. New York has such a limited supply that an arts listing fills only one and a half pages in the little free guidebook.
At the Metropolitan Museum of Art, visitors stood for 15 minutes in two long lines to buy admission tickets. (Sadly, I did not get to see the Alexander McQueen "Savage Beauty" exhibit because of another wait (one hour), and I was not going to give up armor and medieval art to see anomalous fashion, I don't care where Kate's dress originated. (A few words about the museum's cafeteria in the food section below.))
The Museum of Modern Art was no better on Sunday in the rain. We were not at the airport, mind you, but it just seemed like it with long lines of people on the sidewalks and the museum's people directors everywhere, including an agent who directed visitors to a cashier who, yes, could take your money now please, after you waddled from rope line to rope line developing that warm and fuzzy feeling just before you take off, and we were! Ascending to great heights on upper floors which included a gallery of seven Cy Twombly sculptures newly acquired by MOMA and up for viewing through October 3. Mr. Twombly, of Lexington, Virginia, died on Tuesday in Rome at age 83. On Wednesday the Washington Post called him "one of the most significant artistic figures of the past 50 years," and the New York Times today said he was "a towering and inspirational talent." (Please see photos of the exhibit.)
At MOMA I did not have time for the plywood exhibit which ends February 27.
Theatre on Broadway is to die for, indeed. Because I normally do not have $300/day and get to NYC infrequently, I did not realize the vast differences between road shows and New York productions. The music is a lot more energetic, crisp, and professional than what you hear in DC. The acting is perfect, and the staffing of omnipresent ushers to answer questions, direct, and make nice is stunning. And they wear costumes to match the actors'. Speaking of...
With its costumes alone, Anything Goes could have almost passed for a silent production . A friend told me I had to see it, and later I understood why. Sold out. (Ditto, Phantom.) The second act made the cheapest seat in the house in the middle of the back row on the mezzanine (my seat) worth it. I would not have been surprised had the wildly enthusiastic audience stood for an ovation in the middle of the second act.
Prithee, have you seen ticket scalpers at the theatre?
For the Capitals and other athletic events, yes, but for the theatre? It was news to me. Perhaps it is commonplace in NYC. Hissing and growling made approaching a scalper a fearsome task for they stood on the sidewalk outside Anything in disharmony and rain holding signs begging for tickets. The poor lads.
At one of the many bars at Phantom, the man in front of me from Atlanta (and dressed up, you know those Southerners with no knowledge of current homeless fashion) ordered a Jack and something: $25. Gulp. I settled for a light beer ($14).
Those NY theatres are all about marketing. Bars here, bars there, bars, bars, everywhere in the theatre, yes please take your drink to your seat, that's okay, but Majestic! Hold it! Would you kindly refrain from selling products with crinkly wrap?
Several rows from me a patron crinkled his paper non-stop for 10 minutes during the performance. It was quite bothersome, interrupting enjoyment of the production. I cannot recall unscripted crinkly paper sounds in DC productions, so we've got them beat in the crinkly paper department. (And in littered streets and sidewalks, Mr. Mayor Bloomberg Mayor Sir! Washington, D.C. is Trump Palace compared to the garbage which peppers New York City.)
My hotel? The famous Chelsea, the former home and lodging of Thomas Wolfe (my fav), Dylan Thomas, Mark Twain, Tennessee Williams, Jack Kerouac, Sir Arthur C. Clarke, Arthur Miller, Janis Joplin, Simone de Beauvoir, Jean Paul Sartre, and William Shakespeare (just checking to see if you were still reading) to name a few.
Notable deaths: Nancy Spungen, girlfriend of Sid Vicious of the Sex Pistols, stabbed to death on October 12, 1978. Dylan Thomas collapsed here and died a few days later on November 9, 1953. Henry Everett Smith, Alphaeus Philemon Cole (age 100), Charles R. Jackson (Sept. 21, 1968) are others. Please check out Wikipedia for more.
At the Chelsea, the excellent, eager, smiling staff made my NYC stay all the nicer. My room was wonderfully large with a bathroom bigger than my kitchen at home. Egyptian pressed sheets and a hard mattress made for swell digs. Now, it is true that the walls needed a wee bit of paint, but this ain't your typical Ritz, but for anyone desiring affordable pricing and an eclectic place in NYC, it's the perfect place.
For some reason which I can't quite put my finger on (or through) an aura of eeriness permeated (or floated?) the fourth floor hallway with its wide marble floors and ghostly silence. Nothing seeped in during the night (of which I am aware).
Anyway, tell me about another hotel of comparable size with so much original art hanging on the walls and suspended from the ceiling. Right there in the lobby up on the mantle was a bronze bust of President Harry S Truman without his glasses (stolen). Who needs museums? (Please see photos.)
On to food: The Broadway Diner says its burger is "the best" in NYC and, based on a taste test of one burger, I'll buy that. However, the dining manager at the Metropolitan Museum of Art could learn a thing or two from our Cascade Café at the National Gallery of Art.
When I ate at the Metropolitan's cafeteria, the tables were dirty, the stock was depleted, the macaroni looked petrified, the food was slopped over most of the self-service cases, and no staff was around to clean up the joint, and it was two hours from closing. Other than that, my lettuce was fine.
The test: Would I take this trip all over again? You betcha, and might even give the Metropolitan another chance to clean up its act.
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