I've been to New York dozens of times so I don't feel like I'm a tourist. But I don't actually live in New York so that means I am. That in mind, I did my own version of the tourist experience the past four days as I wandered the city.
I was in town for a number of very good reasons: lunch with my agent, speech at the Harvard Club, USATF Foundation Board meeting, Millrose Games track meet, and an after-party. There was a lot of downtime built in so I made this a vacation of sorts. I didn't write while I was there but I carried a pencil and a thick stack of pages in need of edit wherever I went. So when I sat down for a coffee or a beer, I pulled that sloppy attempt at a first draft out of my back pocket and went over them word by word. Carrying a book is too cumbersome but pages and a pencil are good companions.
I walked wherever I went. The wind was harsh and there was snow in the air but my hotel was far enough from Central Park that I didn't feel like battling pedestrians to make it uptown. A few weeks ago I walked to track practice here in my town. It was just three miles but I arrived exhausted. Not so in New York. I walked mile after mile and felt just fine. Punctuating the journey with visits to museums and stop lights probably makes a difference. I visited the Intrepid, MoMA, had a cheeseburger at PJ Clarke's, a steak at Smith and Wollensky's, and was startled when a bartender at the Irish Pub on Seventh Avenue recognized the name on the credit card and asked if I wrote books just to see if I was the same guy.
Calene hasn't been cleared to fly yet. Exploring all these places alone was not my preference but I went full tourist and sent photos. We first visited as a couple in 1988, when we drove around the country for five weeks after getting married. It was a honeymoon after the honeymoon, an adventure before we got the inevitable post-college real job. Our hotel in New York was the Lexington on 48th. It was an expensive dump. I stayed there again last week, First time I'd set foot inside since then. It's still a dump. I almost changed hotels, which is something I've never done. The mattress was too soft, the bathroom was a phone booth, and the view was just ok. But I'm a romantic. The place grew on me. I'm glad I stayed.
Was there a highlight? Definitely. That cheeseburger was phenomenal. I remember cities by their food.
And watching two world records set at the MIllrose Games in dramatic fashion was the epitome of great racing. I sat ten feet from the banked turns on the indoor track at the Armory, so close to the action I could feel the thunder as runners raced past.
I had a very early flight on Sunday morning and left the after-party and a dozen good friends earlier than I wanted. A heavy wet snow had begun falling on Soho. I almost slipped four times as I walked over to Broadway to find a cab. Then I stood in the falling snow, feeling like a Californian as I strained to wave down that ride back to my hotel. I had a moment of despair, as if I would be stuck for quite awhile. My phone pinged, a message from United telling me I had the upgrade for the flight home.
Sometimes a business trip can be a fiasco. Sometimes mundane. But standing in the snow, pages jammed in my back pocket, wind and wet snow making me blink as it soaked through my down jacket, I had to admit that being a tourist can feel pretty amazing.