After enduring the trials and tribulations of a computer outage at O’Hare International Airport (ORD), I made it to New York three hours later than expected (thanks United Airlines — I’ll rant about you later). So I had to make a choice between shopping in SoHo or hoofing to Central Park to see the Christo Gates installation. SoHo…Central Park…SoHo…Central Park…What would Chris Noth do? He’d probably grab a fabulous drink at a fabulous bar and say, ‘Baby’ in a Dean Martinesque manner. That’s what he’d do. Since I wasn’t feeling very fabulous, I went with my first choice of the Gates. I’m glad I did. New York was covered in snow, making the Gates pop like ripe little kumquats against the stark winter background. I’ll post pictures when I get back to Chicago.

I played there for about an hour, hoping that Chris would show up, but eventually made my way to Times Square for a cup of coffee and a different shot of culture. Ooooo, cuhl-tah! Times2 is a gaudy affair, but I love it so. Hunger and sadness (I saw the notice about Hunter S. Thompson’s suicide on the ABC scroller) drove me into a little bar on 45th street, where the English barkeep proceeded to act as though he knew me. I didn’t mind. We had a nice little chat about the toy show that’s in town and how the weather in Chicago was a nice predictor for NYC. He didn’t catch on that I didn’t live across the street, and he was such a dear, I didn’t feel like correcting him. I drank a few beers, toasted the memory of the good doctor, and ate dinner. Chris Noth didn’t show.

I’m working tomorrow in the Financial District, but I don’t have high hopes of Chris making it to Wall Street. This will make strike 4 out of 4 trips where Chris has managed to evade me. My stalking skills obviously need work.

Come back for the pictures. I’ll get them posted later in the week.