New Years in NY Part 2: The Days That Did Not End

Try here for Part 1.

December 30th 2011: New Year's Eve Eve

I wake up disoriented. My senses are under attack. Its incredibly bright in my Aunt and Uncle's house and there is an incessant knocking on my door, followed by a gentle reminder that it is time to rise and meet the day. Although I know better, this form of reminder is as gentle as Chinese water torture, which, when left unanswered will softly coax you into insanity. I get up, try and put in my contact lenses, and am reminded of the inherent ickiness of touching my eyeball. I drop a contact lens and spend the next 30 minutes looking for it. I tell my Mom and she immediately launches into an organized and efficient search. Eventually my Aunt Irene comes in the bathroom and we enlist her help. Somehow a high powered flashlight appears, even though its broad daylight. I pretend that I'm flying a helicopter, and using a spotlight to ferret out an escapee. I almost start to make helicopter noises. Instead, I decide to not flush the toilet for the rest of the day.

It's hike time! Me, my mom and my aunt head out to Rockefeller State Park to enjoy the unseasonably warm afternoon, and to walk for 12 km. My mom is wearing three layers of clothing, is carrying hiking/snow shoeing poles, and is even equipped with toilet paper, for unscheduled "bio breaks." That's right, only hardcore hikers have alliterated bowel movements. I, on the other hand, am equipped with a book, a camera, and a sense of adventure. And if necessary, leaves. Like regular people. We take the scenic route to the park and mentally review our trail route. Apparently, my mom has spent considerable energy planning a epic tour of this state reserve, cutting across vast swaths of greenery, traversing rolling hills, ascending noble peaks, and spanning breathtaking valleys. If only she remembered to bring her map. No matter! Like true pioneers our resourcefulness knows no bounds, and I trailblaze a path to the nearest gift shop. Soon maps are procured and we set off on the first leg of our adventure, a jaunty trek around Swan Lake. Note the rare Asian swan, known for its stunning grey plumage and odd mating stances.

Look a fallen log. I must traverse it to prove my manhood. Man 1, Nature 0.

We're doing tree pose amongst the trees. LOL. Watch out hipsters, you're not the only ones who have mastered irony!

We climb the eagle's peak trail and are rewarded with breathtaking views of wooded vales, awash in the golden hues of the afternoon sun. I am transformed into Warrior (as well as Warrior 2), inspired by the gentle beauty of nature in all its forms. Mom is inspired to take a bio break.

It's a graffiti tree, where countless young lovers decide to commemorate their mutual affection by painfully torturing and scarring another living entity. Ooh birds. Pretty!

The last trail is entitled 13 bridges. There are actually 13 bridges that span a small stream as it winds itself under the forest canopy. Seems pretty impractical to me, why wouldn't you just build one bridge and stay on one side of the stream? Mom and I also generate synonyms of streams to maintain morale. I'm pretty impressed with creeks, brooks, rivers, and tributaries. This helps to distract me from impending starvation and exhaustion.

On our way back we decide to stop for lunch near Tarrytown/Sleepy Hollow. There are headless horsemen icons on every street sign. There is a bar called the Horseman. It's fairly depressing that in the 400 odd years of this town's existence, its crowning achievement is a decapitated ghost. Lunch is really delicious, full of beefy goodness. As a bonus, we get to be the only Asians in Sleepy Hollow.

Onto Manhattan, where my cousin Arn has promised an evening of frivolity and merrymaking. First we meet two of his friends at a bar that is, according to Arn, "frequented by dock workers." His friends sadly, are not dockworkers, but are pretty fun nonetheless. I find out that there is a fine line between flirtatious and friendly, and that no matter where you go there will always be someone who likes nerdy fantasy books (Yeah, Katniss!). I make a new Facebook friend, Jessica, who repeatedly invites me out dancing. Too bad I have a hot date with Arn. The bar is incredibly loud and very Irish. Well, except for the black couple at the bar who are grinding to Bon Jovi, and my Uncle Henry, who shows up a little later. Uncle Henry whips out his i-phone and shows us all pictures of his pet hedgehog, aptly named Henry, and a picture of the derriere of a very large Marilyn Monroe statue. Arn shows us pictures of his friend naked, sitting on a windowsill. Like father, like son.

Uncle Henry, cousin Arn, and tourist Sam decide to be pretentious and eat at Anthony Bourdain's restaurant, Les Halles. The menu features several varieties of meat prepared in French, and everything comes with frites. I get the pepper steak. Amazing. Although we have to wait 45 minutes for a table, turns out that the table that we are seated beside features four Swiss tourists, one of whom actually designed the shirt that Arn was wearing. No joke. After this revelation, we talk a bit about how everything the Swiss make is somehow better than if anyone else makes it. Chocolate, watches, fondue, banking etc. I realize that we are three dudes having a romantic candle-lit dinner, in a corner booth of a French bistro, on a Friday night. Not the least bit perturbed.

We say goodbye to my good uncle, and watch admiringly as he stumbles towards Grand Central, feeling the effects of multiple adult beverages. Arn and I take a cab ride to a club somewhere in Soho, I think. On the way he tells me that Manhattan is 55% female, which I totally believe, given that the restaurant in which we dined featured at least 3 tables of 6 women. We arrive at a wine bar and I meet several more of Arn's friends. One of them, Radu, greets Arn by casually squeezing his butt. I quickly realize that they have a special relationship. We start to head to an electronic club nearby, except that Radu really wants pizza, so we find him some. He doesn't even wait for it to be warmed, so it looks and smells like congealed butter. We wait in line at the club and miraculously a parking spot appears just outside the main entrance. Arn and Radu decide to literally sit and occupy this spot for another friend who is quickly approaching by car. Several cars pass and drivers give looks ranging from bemusement to outrage, but our intrepid squatters hold fast, and in the end the situation is too absurd for any lasting ill will. We dance a lot to music that I would never be able to identify. At one point, high pitched screaming is somehow incorporated. Arn's dancing is a cross between a shuffle and slow motion glide. I dance like I was born to.

Dec 31 2011: The Day That Had No Beginning and No End.

At some point my friend Evelyn shows up, which is pretty impressive considering she had just flown home that night, and there was a $30 cover. Actually, she didn't know about the last part, so she's pretty exasperated with me. I give her a 20 and pay for a drink (sprite and beer?!), which soothes her rage. We dance some more, I lose track of time, someone spills a beer on my arm. We decide to eat Korean wings at 5 am, because apparently Korean people don't sleep. They are so spicy that I need one cup of water per wing. Delicious.

I wake up in Ev's apartment around 10 am. It's a nice surprise, all clean and feminine, and tastefully decorated. There is just too much sun for less than four hours of sleep. I am also stiff from sleeping on a (good looking) lawn chair.

We meet up with Arn and take a train ride back to Scarsdale for an epic lunch of Korean-style grilling and Swiss fondue. One of my goals for the trip was to learn the secret ways of Swiss fondue making, to augment my culinary repertoire and my level of pretentiousness. I learn the secret. Go to Trader Joe's, buy packet, insert packet into pot, put pot onto fancy warming tray, surround with delicious condiments. Sigh. We teach Evelyn how to play Rumikub. She's pretty good. Mom still schools all of us.

Evelyn scores us cheap tickets to a New Years celebration in an Asian bar/club near her house. It's only $20 because we're not drinking! Never have I appreciated my Asianness more than at that moment. We train back down to Manhattan and take a nap. Ev complains vociferously about the unfairness of having to look as good as the other women who will be dressing up that evening. She tries at least four different permutations of outfits, her voice dripping with accusations leveled at the shallowness of my gender. I am defenceless. I decide to distract myself by observing the residents of the apartment complexes just across the street. It's like reality television, except, you know, it's reality. Two ladies decide it is an excellent idea to change in front of their windows. I do not dissuade them.

While Ev finishes her preparations, we decide that I would be most useful by picking up a pizza. As I'm walking through Manhattan on New Year's Eve I can feel my body beginning to resonate with the energy of the city, like I'm some sort of human tuning fork. Manhattan on this night is really like no other place in the world, practically crackling with anticipation. You can see it on the faces of the residents and hear it, a gradual crescendo of buzzing, a symphony of horns and shrieks and laughter. It's going to be a good night. I hurry back with the pizza, fresh from a wood burning oven, crunchy and soft, and luxurious with large strips of prosciutto and great handfuls of torn basil. We finish it between the two of us. For all her complaining Ev looks great, especially with a killer set of heels.

We arrive at the club and wait for the restaurant to clear out before the New Year's party can begin. I meet some of Ev's friends and they seem pretty interesting, if older. When we finally get in, the place is incredibly crowded. There are three floors, with a bar on the lower floor, a loft on the top floor that is reserved for a private party, and a dance floor sandwiched between. The crowd is oddly enough, a mix of largely white and brown peoples, who try their best to avoid intermingling. There are also two main age groups represented: 30-somethings and very young. You can tell who the younger ones are by their difficulty walking when inebriated and their general disorientation with life. There is a live DJ and a projection of Times Square on the back wall of the dancefloor. We all receive some crazy party favors and countdown with great enthusiasm. I get my New Year's kiss. 2012!!!! It starts much like 2011 ended, with fevered dancing and tipsy smiles. Eventually Ev's feet begin to ache from her stunning heels, and my endurance is shot after the 12 km hike/5 am clubbing the day/night before. We trudge back to Ev's place, content in the after-glow of a New Year's lived to the utmost.

January 1st 2012: The Day of 5 Naps.

7:30 am. My aunt calls to remind me to head back uptown. It is again much too sunny in Ev's apartment. I'm so tired that I inadvertently fall unconscious, miss my stop and have to get picked up at the next one. This qualifies as a minor scandal.

Me and my mom pack up and begin the long drive home. I sleep well, more than I have in the past 48 hours. Here's to 2012, may it live up to the promise of it's beginning. Happy New Years friends!