zabbo

An old friend, who lives in Manhattan, is spending his holiday in lovely Montréal. He, being a super-star, didn’t mind us watching his apartment while he was away and this was too much to pass up. We decided to spend our Thanksgiving holiday in New York, and here we are!

We were pretty pleased to find direct flights between Portland and Newark. Shocked, one might say. That certainly eased the pain of having to get up at some ridiculous hour. The journey was largely uneventful though it was fun to hop around on the various trains from the airport to the upper west side. A nice man at Penn station asked us if we had any change and when we didn’t he asked where we were headed and pointed us in the right direction. Someone from the Department of Cranky Locals should give him a talking to.

We weren’t deeply interested in high dining after having spent the day traveling. Alice managed to find a restaurant (Arte Cafe) a few blocks away that was just right. The food wasn’t spectactular, but it was competent and inexpensive and the atmosphere was warm and lively. We had a great time. My only complaint was arguably my fault to begin with. When the waiter asked me to repeat my order of a Sidecar I should have changed to a drink that he recognized. I can just picture them scrambling around behind the bar trying to make something up. Whatever they did, it was Tequilatastic.