21 February So yesterday was cool 'n' groovy journal day! Patrick said that he would arrive at 11.30a or 11.45a, which means that I had 11.45a in my head, and he arrived at 11.05a and I wasn't ready. "Sit down, don't look at my filthy apartment, and don't talk to me, I have to finish my entry." I practically put one of those Tommy sunglasses/earplug/cork combinations on him. I was done by 11.45a, you know, when I expected him to arrive (heeheehee), so we trundled into the city to meet Roe and Tracing at Westway for brunch.
There was a curly-haired redhead standing at the door of the diner, peering casually at passersby, so I figured that either she was trolling for customers or she was Roe (or hey, maybe both!), and she was! Roe, that is. We went inside to wait for Tracing, who was half an hour late. As she explained "Had I known that you were coming in with Patrick and wouldn't be late yourself, I'd have left the house earlier!" We had a great brunch, though Tracing the alkie never got her Bloody Mary, and the waitress spread hollandaise sauce all over the table, and we discussed Roe's wedding and other girly things at great length to Patrick's silent suffering.
Tracing wasn't spending the day with us, so Roe and Patrick and I strode off to Experience the City. "What do you want to do, Patrick?" "O, really, anything." "Well, I need to buy some nail clippers..." We decided to go up to the top of the Empire State Building, because it was the most touristy thing that we could thing of. On the way, I kept whining about needing nail clippers--not because my nails so much needed clipping (though they certainly did, and my toenails were starting to resemble Howard Hughes') but because the crank on my camera is broken, and I need nail clippers or tweezers in order to grab onto the thing and open my camera and change the film. We got to the Empire State Building, and there was a Duane Read right there, so I was able to get my clippers at last. I also wanted to subtly get some sanitary pads, but they were following me around like kids, howling "What are you doing? Are you getting FEMININE HYGIENE PRODUCTS??" I admitted that I was, and Patrick said "What, again? You did the same thing when we were at Melissa's house!" and I turned around and yodeled in the crowded store "I guess there's something about you, Patrick, that brings on my PERIOD!" So much for subtlety.
Then, we went to the basement of the Empire State (no, we do have a sense of direction, that's where one gets the tickets), where, after wandering around for what seemed like hours, we found the queue, directly before an employee started walking up and down the line yelling that the outside observation deck was closed and we'd only be able to look out windows We didn't really see the point of paying $10 or whatever to look out a window where you couldn't try to spit on people below, so we left to wander aimlessly around midtown some more.
Gotta go to work, I'll finish tomorrow.
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