I travel a lot for work, and I try to enjoy every trip. When I’m with coworkers, it’s easy. Laughter. Cocktails. Repeat. Alone, it’s different. A few years ago, I had to do the Boston – NYC – Boston run to meet a freelance client. The tired old down and back? Hardly. Since time alone is in precious short supply for any busy person, I make the most of it.
The Train Flying to LaGuardia is faster, but given the dehumanization that air travel often entails, I usually opt for the Acela, even with its flaws and even if I have to get up at five. I’ve got a nice view of the Rhode Island and Connecticut coastlines. I read the old fashioned newspaper. I work. And I arrive composed rather than undone.
Walk No smelly cab for me. I walk the 20 blocks from Penn Station to lower Park Avenue, stopping at Eataly along the way. I share my wife’s love of a good food market, and Mario Batali’s ginormous take on the theme is that, on steroids. Moving on, I pause to genuflect before Pentagram out of respect for the incredible work this legendary design firm has produced over the years. They give our industry a good name.
Work New York’s energy is infectious. I arrive at my meeting all fired up. The client is receptive. The trip is a success. Grateful, I invite them for lunch but they have another meeting. I’ve learned that there’s always another meeting, another deadline, another ‘to do’ to be crossed off the list. Today, enjoying life takes precedence.
Shop The Gods must agree because stepping out onto Fifth Avenue, I spy (what’s this?) a Paul Smith shop. This could be dangerous. While I generally prize experiences over objects, I will also cop to being a materialistic f-cker, and I can’t get enough of Sir Paul’s quirky-meets-classic attire. I add to my collection, and the staff is all over the rare Paul Smith for Burton coat I’m wearing. It’s enough to make a geezer feel hip.
A Great Meal Ideally, food should be enjoyed leisurely with people you like. But with clients and friends busy, I head for the tony sushi bar at 15 East. New York has no shortage of great sushi joints, and 15 East is a Union Square standout, with a Michelin Star and immaculate fish, beautifully presented in a tasteful setting. For the next hour or so, it’s my own little refuge while the chaos of NYC rages on outside.
Records If I were uptown, I’d buzz through MOMA for a quick art fix. Instead, I head south through Washington Square Park to Generation Records on Thompson Street in the Village. Great for used stuff and punk. When I’m record shopping, I’m a kid again, and this is my playground. With rarities from the Stones, the Clash and The WHO in hand, I bolt before I do any more damage.
More Walking No car service today. The brisk walk back uptown takes me past two of my favourite skyscrapers, the Woolworth and New York Life buildings, and then through bustling Union Square for more great people watching. Up the way, I pop into the Ace Hotel for an espresso from the fedora-wearing baristas (okay, guys, you’re trying too hard).
The Train Penn Station is a zoo. Worlds are colliding, and all manner of human flotsam and jetsam are pushing and shoving like they’re fleeing Godzilla. I tip a Red Cap to bring me to the train before it’s posted on the board. This way, I get a seat with that killer seaside view. The ride home? I work, listen to music, sample Amtrak’s excellent wine list (not), and even grab a few Z’s.
I suspect that the guidebooks on Manhattan don’t mention the rose bushes in this fabled concrete jungle. Nonetheless, I found a way to stop and smell my share on this gray October day.