long distance lover.

The last time I went to New York, I lost my camera in a cab (or in the street, or in a restaurant; truthfully, I don't know where I lost it, I only know that in the midst of taking pictures of the most glorious snowstorm of my life, I went from having it to not having it anymore). The loss was devastating, not because of the camera itself, but because of all the pictures that I had on the memory card inside.

I returned to the big city last month, armed with a new (fancy!) camera, determined to prove to myself that I'm not as terrible of a photographer as I had so far proven.







My trip wasn't about taking pictures, though New York provided colorful backdrops and vibrant scenery gorgeous enough to camouflage my inexperience and it just so happened to fall the weekend before I had to present my end-of-photography class project. But honestly that's not why I went.

No, I really I went to see old friends and colleagues, feel cold air on my skin, and enjoy the kind of inspiration that only comes from a city that rarely sleeps.

I also needed a Valentine, and I knew if I asked nicely, New York would be mine.

And he was. Perfect.

Along with friends Lauren, Katy, Molly, Elise and Laura, my beloved offered me a long weekend full of delicious meals at his finest restaurants, spontaneous street dance parties at strange hours with new friends, endless shopping excursions at sample sales and several day-long walks to nowhere in particular.





We went to a "fashion" show (I'm using this term liberally) and then conducted our own cat-walks and photo shoots on the lower East Side, drank rich coffee during the day and Dark n' Stormys at night, and laughed so hard our stomachs hurt. A lot.



I found my happy place.

I felt alive.

Inspired.

Strangely confident in a place that used to intimidate me so.




I have longed to make New York my home for a while, but lately I've started to doubt if that will ever happen, and while I am saddened at the thought, I am also trying to be honest with myself about what I am capable of. I feel too young to give up on a dream I've had for a long time, too old to start over in a new place, and just old enough to understand exactly how much I'd be giving up if decided to do it anyway.

Sometimes I wonder, also, if the love affair I'm having with New York only exists because our absence from each other makes my heart grown fonder. Are we in a long-distance relationship that survives so lovingly only because of the long periods of time we live a part? What if we lived together and discovered we hated each other? I don't know if I could bear it.

When my trip was over and it was time to leave, I climbed into the back of a cab that smelled so bad, my eyes started to water. Always looking for a sign that will tell me what to do and how to feel, I thought the cab may have been a metaphor for New York and a reminder that I needed to escape the stench of the city and get back to the south. On the other hand, I considered, what if the smelly cab was the smell of the disappointing reality I was heading back to and needed to escape?

My beloved was sending me mixed signals. How very cliche of him.



Nonetheless, as I waved goodbye to my long distance lover, promising that I'd see him soon and maybe next time I'd stay even longer, my eyes legitimately started to cry - and I honestly wasn't sure whether I was weeping because I was leaving my love, painfully aware that our get-togethers might only ever be long weekend rendezvous or if the stench from the cab was really that offensive.

Some things, I guess I'll never know.

Day 75: I (Heart) NYC

Day 75 was my last day in New York, and there was a lot I wanted to accomplish. I was determined to make it a productive day, starting first with tackling an exercise class at Physique 57.

I first heard about Physique 57 from my favorite celebrity, Kelly Ripa. She credits her ripped arms and rock-hard abs to these classes.

So before I even got to New York, I told Elise that I wanted to take a class there. I know, I'm lame. Who puts "take an exercise class" on their list of things to do in New York? But either a testament to Elise's lameness too, or her awesomeness as a friend, she agreed to come. I insisted she didn't have to, and told her that I didn't mind going on my own, but she actually sounded excited about it.

According to their website, Physique 57™ is a focused and proven cardiovascular program of isometric exercises and orthopedic stretches. I have no idea what any of that means. I saw ballet bars in the pictures and assumed that because we were both former dancers, Elise and I could handle it easily.

Turns out, I was wrong.

I was intimidated walking in there, but I think that had everything to do with the fact that it was New York and that Kelly Ripa works out there, not because of the way anyone treated us. That intimidation soon faded when we met the instructor. She was so nice and bubbly, I thought for sure she'd go easy on us. Plus, it was a beginner class. She told us to grab 3-5 pound weights and I was soon certain we'd have no trouble.

The movements were easy. The class was not. The instructor would show us a move, we'd do a lot of reps quickly, stretch, and then we'd go to the next move. Some of the movements were ones I had done before, but others were different, and a little awkward. We did use the ballet bar, but only for balance while we did some killer squats using a playground ball.

Elise looked at me midway through and said, "I think I need to leave." I didn't know how to respond. She'd lost a lot of color in her face, but I didn't know if she was kidding around because the class was hard, or if she was truly feeling ill and wanted to get the hell out of there.

I nodded in understanding, but what I should've said was, "If you want to leave, just say the word." I didn't want to go, but I didn't want my friend, and hostess, to suffer through the nonsense any longer than she wanted to.

Elise did leave and never came back, meaning she wasted $30 on the class that I suggested we take. She wasn't sure what made her feel ill, but blamed it on the fact that she really hadn't eaten a lot the day before and hadn't worked out in several weeks. I finished the class and was disappointed that I left looking no more like Kelly Ripa than I did when I came in.

On the way out, I saw Justin Long, the guy in the Apple commercials, also known as Drew Barrymore's on-again, off-again boyfriend in the lobby of the building. When we got outside I said to Elise, "Wow, that was cool, the Apple guy."

She didn't really respond at first and then she said, "Wait. Steve Jobs (the co-founder and CEO of Apple)?"

I laughed out loud. "No!" The guy in the commercials!

Even we drove right by the building again, she kept an eagle eye peeled for a possible Justin Long sighting, but no luck.

I thought this last day in New York was not off to a great start, especially for Elise. First the class, then missing out on seeing Justin Long. Her spirits were still up, though, and she suggested we do brunch, which is my favorite meal ever, before she had to be at work. It'd have to be a quick one, but I knew we could do it. And we did, with time to spare. And still feeling badly that I was so far the worst guest ever, I insisted I'd pay.

Elise went to work and I had the rest of my afternoon free to roam the streets of New York.

It just so happened that Lauren, my friend from DC, was in the city that Friday for a wedding. She's from New York and she agreed to take me to do Day 75's things I've never done before: see the Rockefeller Christmas Tree, go to F.A.O. Schwarz and walk up 5th Avenue to see all of the Christmas window displays.

The fact that Lauren, a native New Yorker, was willing to suffer through all of these touristy stops makes her alone a great friend. What makes her an even greater friend is that Lauren is also Jewish. And this was the first day of Hanukkah.

This isn't the first time she's suffered through Christmas with me, either. Last year at this time, she and I were in China and Thailand on a three-week vacation. I was bummed before we left, thinking that I would miss Christmas season, one of my most favorite times of the year. Much to my delight, however, and Lauren's dismay, Christmas was everywhere in Asia. Christmas trees, Christmas lights, and her favorite, Christmas music.

I loved it. She did not.

Still, she marched me all over town, starting first at F.A.O. Schwarz, New York's famous toy store. If you've been reading this blog from the beginning, you probably are aware at how much I hate to wait for anything. Due to the huge crowds this store draws around the holidays, there was actually a roped off area set up down the side of the store for lines of people waiting to get inside. Luckily, we didn't have to wait too long, but I found it to be a little ridiculous to have to wait in line at all to get into a toy store.

F.A.O. Schwarz's biggest draw is definitely the big piano featured in the Tom Hanks movie, Big. There was yet another line to wait in to get an opportunity to tickle the ivories, so I decided to instead just enjoy the live performance put on by the toy store staff. Just imagine, if you will, that a tall, super-lanky, uber-cheesy guy with a headset microphone was jumping around the big piano clapping wildly in an effort to get everyone excited and involved in the show. C & C Music Factory was playing in the background.

This little show was five-times better and more embarrassing than that. It was hysterical. There were times when I had to look away. And my only regret is that I was so dumbfounded, I forgot to take a picture of it. But the memory will be forever burned into my brain.

We walked down to the Rockefeller Christmas Tree and ice-skating rink. The tree is massive and beautiful, just as I expected it would be. I asked a teen aged boy, who had just been forced by his parents to pose for a picture with his siblings, to take a picture of Lauren and me. I assumed he understood that since we moved to stand in front of the tree, that we were hoping for a picture of the two of us and the tree. He may have needed more explicit instructions, however, since now I just have a close up of the two of us. The tree is in the background, though, I swear.

The ice-skating rink at Rockefeller was a little less impressive than the tree. It was much smaller than I thought. Or perhaps the massive amounts of people skating made it appear smaller than it actually is. Lauren and I weren't skating ourselves, but did enjoy watching people who despite the crowds and small children on the rink, couldn't resist their opportunity to show everyone their ice-skating skills. They were performing turns and jumps like they were in training for the Winter Olympics.

Seriously folks? That's a little much.

Fifth Avenue was packed with shoppers, but we walked up and down the street anyway, enjoying the beautiful window displays. Lauren told me they used to be much more elaborate. We figured it must be a sign of the tough economic times.

After grabbing some coffee and heading back to Lauren's hotel to help her get ready for the wedding rehearsal dinner, I went to a tasty Italian dinner by myself and headed back to 5th Avenue, this time to shop for something to wear to my office Christmas party.

Even in the shopping capital of the world, I was unsuccessful on that front.

Still, a New York style workout, an afternoon to enjoy the holiday sights and the opportunity to catch up with old friends. I'm glad I made the last-minute decision to make the trip.

I (heart) NYC.

Day 74: Strawberry Fields and Friends Forever

Thanks to the cold sake, the brown liquor mixed drinks and whatever else, Thursday started out a bit painful.

Nothing that the cold city air can't fix, though. And I was determined not to waste my time feeling sorry for myself. I was in New York! On vacation!

Like usual during all of these trips, Day 74 was a day full of things I'd never done before, include take a walk in Strawberry Fields, see the butterfly exhibit at the Natural History Museum and almost get stood up for dinner by someone I'd never met.

Strawberry Fields is a landscaped area of Central Park between 71st and 74th streets. It was named Strawberry Fields after late Beatle John Lennon, who was shot and killed in front of his apartment building at72nd and Central Park West. The area includes an Imagine mosaic and a Garden of Peace. I'm a Beatles fan, and a music fan in general, so I was glad I got to see this spot. It was lovely. And peaceful.

After grabbing some lunch at the Shake Shack, I walked to the Museum of Natural History and decided to go to the highly recommended Butterfly Conservatory. The exhibit is inside a greenhouse of sorts with more than 500 butterflies flying all around. Very cool. A butterfly landed on my hand while I was inside and stayed there for several minutes. I probably would've enjoyed it more if it wasn't so hot in there, but it was like stepping into the rainforest, and I was wearing a winter coat. Butterflies like things warm, I guess.

I walked by the famous Beacon Theatre, and decided that I must see the Allman Brothers there before I die. Maybe this year for the blog? Unfortunately the only acts that were playing there close to when I was visiting were Il Divo and the Jonas Brothers.

I milled around Columbus Avenue, grabbed a hot cider at the Magnolia Bakery (not the Magnolia Bakery, the second one), and walked up the Upper West side until it was time to meet a friend for dinner.

The friend was Gideon, and he and I met in 2008. We were employees of companies who worked closely together, so Gideon and I spoke daily about work. Just like any co-worker, we got to know each other on a personal level as well. I don't talk to some of my best friends everyday, but I spoke to Gideon at least once, often two or three times everyday for an entire year.

He knew about my family, my friends, when I was happy, when I was sad, and I knew about his. He became, over time, like my long-distance work husband. He talked me through breakups and when his mother died, I ached for him and his family as if I'd known her, and him, my whole life.

But I'd never even laid eyes on him. Not in person, anyway.

So of all the people that I wanted to see when I was in New York, Gideon was definitely one of the names at the top of the list. We exchanged emails ahead of my visit and we arranged to meet at a restaurant in Harlem near where he lived. I showed up there at 7:30pm, told the hostess I was meeting someone, possibly two people, took a seat, and waited.

At 7:45pm, he still hadn't showed up yet. I'm habitually late (not something I'm proud of), so I didn't think anything of it. I emailed a mutual friend of ours back in Atlanta.

"At what time," I wrote, "do I give up on Gideon and conclude that he's not coming."

"Gideon's a no show?" Devon responded. "That doesn't sound him."

I emailed Mountain Man, "I think Day 74's thing I've never done before might be 'get stood up.'"

The wait staff was starting to feel badly for me. They kept coming to my table and asking me if they could bring me anything. Finally I ordered a beer, still keeping the faith that he would arrive. I wondered if they thought I was on a first date or something. I guess I kind of was, only Gideon is engaged and getting married this summer. Plus our relationship was never like that. We were friends, like brother and sister.

8pm rolled around and I tracked down Gideon's number and left him a message. Then I texted him. I refused to believe that he wouldn't show up. It just wasn't like the Gideon that I knew. I've been wrong about people before, but this one had me stumped.

Finally, at 8:15pm, I started to get worried that maybe something happened to him. But I decided I had occupied this table long enough. I paid my check and left.

Walking back to the subway, I was really bummed. Aside from not wanting to get stood up, I really wanted to meet my friend Gideon. While I was waiting for the train, I checked my blackberry and to my surprise, he had emailed me.

"Did you stand me up?" was all it said.

I thought he was jacking with me.

"What?! I was just there? Are you there?"

He told me to come back, and I did. Turns out he had been sitting at the bar for 45 minutes on the first floor, while I was sitting at a table on the second floor. I'm not quite sure how the hostess didn't make that connection considering we both told her we were meeting another person, but at that point, it didn't really matter.

It was Gideon! In person! We had a really good time catching up and esentially picked up right where we left off the last time we talked. Gideon's a teacher now, getting married this summer, so a lot has changed since we met. But he's still the dear friend that I met on the phone two years ago. Still giving me advice, still making me laugh.

After Gideon and I separated, I picked up Elise at work and we headed to one of her favorite spots, 10 Degrees. 10 Degrees is a mellow little wine bar in the East Village. Elise, like Gideon, is a friend that I met at work. She and I actually started our careers in the same entry-level way and have supported each other through several moves in our company. Though I was sad when she left Atlanta for New York, the move has been great for her. She loves the city and is, no surprise, kicking ass at her job.

Another successful New York night down. I love this city!

Day 73: Empire State of Mind

Missing old friends, with plenty of vacation to burn, I decided to make Day 73's thing I've never done before to travel to New York during Christmas time.

The nature of my job is that I work with lots of people over the phone and through email, so coming to New York and seeing my former Atlanta colleague and friend Elise, meant that I was also getting to meet and see some of my own New York colleagues as well.

Most of the time, these meetings are awesome.

Sometimes, though, it's awkward. Like when someone smiles and shakes your hand as you tell them your name and you watch as the name recognition falls on their face. Their smile fades as they say, "Stephanie? Oh right...I recognize your name from all of your emails."

This is not a compliment and I never know quite how to respond. Usually I say something like, "Yep. That's me. The one behind all of the emails. I swear I'm a nice person."

I did get to meet a lot of very nice people that I've been working with over the phone (and through email) and it was a treat. I was also reunited with those who I hadn't seen in months.

But the trip wasn't about work. It was a chance to get away from work. I'd been to New York several times as a tourist and for a job interview, so this was my opportunity to see the city, holiday style.

I was not disappointed. There's just something about a big city that gets to me. And not just New York. Boston...San Francisco...Chicago. Give me reliable public transportation and decent weather to walk in and I'll fall in love with any city.

New York is the premier big city, and enjoying it during the holidays was super fun. The cold air, the window displays, the super stressed shoppers and cheesy holiday tourists. Awesome!

My plan for night one was to meet my friend Julian for a few drinks while I waited for Elise to get off work.

A few drinks with Julian turned into dinner at Momofuku, followed by more drinks in the East Village.

Momofuku was such a stereotypical New York City restaurant to me. Loud, dark, and busy (even on a Wednesday). Fortunately we didn’t wait too long. They seated us across from each other at a long high top table crowded with other couples. We sat on bar stools and began our feast that included oysters, steamed pork buns, and duck (I think. It was dark in there.).

I drank cold sake, too, which was a first. I always thought sake was served warm.

After dinner, Julian walked us to what I assumed was a hot dog restaurant. “Crif Dogs” was on the awning outside. I was terribly confused, as I had just eaten a pretty awesome (and expensive) dinner. The last thing I wanted was a hot dog.

I started to question things when Julian shot me a look like, "Trust me, I'm from here."

I couldn't argue with that, plus I just drank a half a bottle of sake, so I had no choice but to trust him. When we got inside, Julian poked his head into a phone booth inside the restaurant and told a woman we were a party of two. She said the wait was an hour.

Come again?

“Where the hell are we,” I thought to myself. I've certainly waited for tables at restaurants and I've waited in lines outside bars, but I've never put my name on a list to be given a wait time from a hostess at a cocktail bar.

But this, I soon learned, was no ordinary cocktail bar. This was PDT (Please Don’t Tell). An aptly named fancy speakeasy hiding inside a hot dog restaurant. So secretive. So exclusive. So annoying that we had to wait an hour to get in.

Though the wait was off-putting, I actually enjoyed the fact that this place keeps the number of people inside to a minimum to create a certain mellow atmosphere for its patrons. Perhaps the name meant, “Please don’t tell the tourists, we want to keep this a secret.” That’s what it felt like.

It also could’ve meant, "Please don’t tell anyone that we only serve mixed drinks with dark liquor." Yikes.

It certainly meant, “Please don’t talk,” at least not loudly. I think the bartender shushed me at least four times.

It definitely also meant, "Please don't take pictures. We don't want you to have any recollection of this night."

Looking back on it, PDT could’ve been named that for other reasons.

Please don’t tell the friendly gay couple sitting next to us that Julian and I are not a couple like they thought. I think they’d be really disappointed.

Please don’t tell my parents that there are parts of this night that are a little fuzzy.

Please don’t tell anyone that even though I had just eaten, I secretly wanted a hot dog.

By the time Elise met up with us, we had been going strong since happy hour. She probably wished PDT meant, "Please don’t tell me to come meet you if you’re acting this ridiculous." Not a fun scene to walk into when you've been at work all night, and I apologized profusely to her the next day.

I'm not sure the lights of New York were inspiring me that night like they do Alicia Keyes, but my trip to New York was off to a great start.