Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Summer's Here!!
Like most other weeks, the excitement this week started on Friday. I had been trying to meet an ex-colleague for many weeks, and we finally managed to find time on our calendars on Friday evening. We had been trying to coordinate it so that we could meet with our families, but since things weren't working out, we decided to just get together for a drink and involve the families later.
He picked a bar called Ginger Man on 36th St. for us to meet. The timing was such that I took the Waterside Plaza shuttle and got off at 42nd Street and Third Avenue. As I began to walk towards my destination, in a few blocks it became apparent that an attractive Oriental woman was following exactly the same route that I was taking -- a few feet ahead of me. We would come upon a certain intersection and I would turn left or go straight depending on which walk signal I got and it so turned out that she would take the same exact turn. She was a few steps ahead of me, and since this happened many times, I half expected her to stop and ask me why I was following her. This continued all the way to 36th St. -- almost 6 blocks south and three blocks across town -- and as I was looking down at my Blackberry to see the exact address and location of Ginger Man -- I looked up to find that she disappeared, and I was standing right in front of the bar. "Uh-Oh!" I thought to myself, "I hope she hasn't gone in here". I entered the bar expecting to find her pointing me out to the bouncer as a stalker. Thankfully, there was no sign of her and no such thing happened.
Ginger Man turned out to be a great find. Although it was just 6 PM on a Friday evening, the place was crowded enough that we didn't get any place other than standing room in a corridor. After a while, a little space opened up on one of the bars, and we got to sit on a stool and enjoyed some really nice Belgian Hoegaarden. We spent about an hour and a half, after which I headed out to meet Neil Lamba, who was back in town. Neil and I had a couple of drinks, and then since he and his friends wanted to go to Café Wha? and I wasn't in a mood to go there -- we hopped in a cab and headed downtown. They dropped me off at 25th St., and I planned to walk back to Waterside. We had driven down Broadway, and I thought it would be about four or five blocks, but it turned out to be more like eight blocks.
A long walk later, I was about half a block away from waterside, when I saw a girl and a guy carrying a heavy table between them walking up the sidewalk. They were coming right at me, and I pretended to avoid them with mock drama. They put the table down and the girl called out to me in a really plaintive voice "can you please, please help us with this table?" She was sweet (if a little chubby) and I was in a cheerful sort of mood -- and figured that this would be something interesting to experience anyway. So I got one corner of the table and off we went in the opposite direction. I looked at the guy and he was your typical graduate student -- sloppy T-shirt, fuzzy beard, and a funny hat on his head.
"How far?" I asked.
"Oh just a few blocks" she replied.
Half a block later, we ran into a tall, strapping young college kid -- and she corralled him into helping us carry the table. So here we were, a motley crew of four people, carrying this really heavy table up 25th St. They were apparently taking it to a party, and I think the college kid expected to get a free drink out of it at the end. Three or four blocks later, we made a turn on Third Avenue and by this time my arms were really aching. Thankfully, we stopped a few doors down, and then she said "now we have to figure out how to carry this up to the roof." At that point I decided I'd had enough entertainment for the evening, shook hands with all of them and left. I wonder what would've happened if I'd stayed, or gone to the party -- I'm sure it would've been fun.
King-Sized Saturday
With Saturday, our big "Lion King" day arrived. This show was at 2 PM, so we left home at around 11:30 to have lunch at an Indian restaurant close to the theater. "Minar" turned out to be a little dive of a place on 46th St., with a fairly wide, but reasonably priced buffet. A quick lunch later, we walked over Times Square, and since we had some time to kill, spent a few minutes picking out a new pair of jeans at the Levi's store. Looking very tourist-like, with Levi's bag in hand, we took our seats for a few minutes before the show was supposed to start. Dhruv got a cushion to allow him to see better, and our seats were very nice. The Minsikoff Theater was not as large as some of the other Broadway theaters I've been to, and this meant that we had an excellent view of the goings-on.
The show was fantastic -- words cannot begin to describe it -- starting from the portrayal of animals -- the giraffes in particular took the cake -- to the music, props and the overall effect, we were just blown away. One way of measuring the impact of a performance is how many times you feel a chill wind down your spine -- and I must confess that I felt a chill at least five or six times. We had been cautioned that Dhruv may get scared and not enjoy the show -- but he had such a wonderful time that I saw him clap in a way that I've never seen him clap before -- with his hands extended out above his head and a beaming smile from ear to ear. I can't be more specific without ruining the fun for those of you who haven't been yet -- but this is honestly the best three hours I have spent in a long time. We've now seen a few productions on Broadway, and Broadway productions when they are on tour (in San Francisco). A show on Broadway is a show on Broadway -- nothing comes close (even a Broadway show on tour).
Hot Sunday
On Sunday, we had scheduled a picnic in Central Park with Enthu, Charu, and their kids. We packed some veggie burgers and they were going to make sandwiches. We caught the number 6 train up, and met them at the intersection of Fifth Avenue and 72nd St. We picnicked close to the small conservatory pond where scores of young boys were trying to sail little remote controlled sailing boats on the relatively still waters. It was a really hot day -- the mercury was supposed to touch 90°, and we think it might have crossed that.
As we got to the park, Charu got a call from the pizza delivery guy (they had also ordered pizza) and as we were walking towards the rendezvous location, I ran into Amir, Anita and some of their friends. I guess New York is not such a large place after all, and neither is Central Park -- if I (a newcomer) can run into someone I know!
After lunch, we spent some time tossing a Frisbee around (and Dhruv almost beaned an old lady on the forehead -- and got what sounded like a stream of invective as a result) and the kids climbed trees. We left the park at about 3 PM, and as we were crossing Fifth Avenue, we cut across a parade of some sort that had a contingent from (when we were passing it) the Brooklyn Greek Orthodox Church. I did feel bad for their patriarch -- he was walking up Fifth Avenue in all his ceremonial black robes, in that heat.
Like they normally do on a hot and windy day when the pollen is flying around, my allergies began to act up by the evening. By the next morning, I had a full-blown attack and had to take some serious medication and sleep it off. I thought that the urban sprawl of New York would mean that there was less pollen to trigger an allergy attack and was perhaps less careful about taking my allergy medication on time. I should not take things for granted -- it's not only the Bay Area that can trigger really bad attack.
Monday, April 20, 2009
Lots of Birthdays
Having lived in the Bay Area for 10 years, we had a large community of good friends, and since a lot of them had had children at around the same time as we had Dhruv, we would end up spending a lot of time on weekends attending kids’ birthday parties. In New York, since our circle of friends is much smaller, we’ve had no invitations to kids’ birthdays, and consequently, we’ve had the weekends free to visit the museums, zoos, parks and the like. Until this week, that is…
Return flight snafu
But I get ahead of myself. As I mentioned earlier, I had a business trip to California, and Monday morning found me on the E train making the trek back to JFK. I arrived in the Bay Area on Monday afternoon, and plunged into work-related discussions at once. I had several meetings the next day, and since I found myself in the Fremont area in the evening, I asked Kala to pick me up and we had dinner at her place.
At her home, I tried to check in online, but couldn’t do so, because I had flown into the Bay Area on United Airlines, and my flight out was on Delta, but with a United ticket. Anyway, since I had no check-in baggage, I would have plenty of time to check in at a kiosk and board my 10:30 pm red-eye back to New York.
We left Fremont at around 9 pm, and as we were passing through Union City, Kala didn’t make a left onto Decoto Road like I expected her to…
“Left! Left!” I called out, thinking that she’d missed the turn by mistake.
“I always take the San Mateo bridge.” Kala replied. Given how much she and her husband travel, I knew better than to argue.
The San Mateo bridge always makes me nervous; the long span means that there so much more distance in which an accident can really mess things up. We were making good time, and in a few minutes, we were on Highway 92 heading westbound, when we were suddenly detoured off the Freeway onto Clawiter Road. “Road repairs,” I thought to myself “we’ll be back on the highway in a few minutes.”
Kala followed the detour signs expecting to be routed back on the freeway, but we found that the only route would take us in the opposite direction. I looked out along the freeway and saw a solid line of tail-lights in the distance. Oh-oh.
We stopped by one of the flag-men directing vehicles. “How can we get onto the San Mateo bridge?” Kala asked him.
“Didn’t you hear? A boat hit the bridge, and a big-rig overturned; the bridge has been closed indefinitely. He replied.
We quickly turned around and headed straight for the Dumbarton Bridge. We passed our old home and I looked at my watch – it was 45 minutes to my flight time – and I told Kala “Let’s forget it – there’s no way I’m going to make it.”
“No way, Gunsi,” she replied. “I’m going to get you on the flight.”
20 minutes later, believe it or not, we pulled up at the Delta terminal in San Francisco Airport. I ran inside and tried to check into a kiosk. “We are unable to check you in at this time. Please see an agent.” It said.
I rushed over to an agent, who tried pulling up my reservation. He picked up the phone and called someone. After a short conversation he looked at me: “I’m sorry sir, it’s 25 minutes before the flight, and the flight is closed.” He replied. “If you had checked in online, we would have held your seat, but since you didn’t we gave it to a standby passenger.”
My entreaties were of no use, and I called Kala and asked her to turn around and pick me up. I had important meetings in New York the next day, and I spent the drive back emailing people and having other colleagues cover for me. Kala was really guilty that she had made me miss my flight, but I tried consoling her “It was a one-in-a-million occurrence,” I said.
The only flight I could get onto without a hefty penalty was at 6:30 am the next morning, and so I spent the night tossing and turning, worrying that I wouldn’t get up on time. I had called a cab to take me to the airport, and thankfully, I had no problems in the morning.
I arrived in New York and called Sandhya. Lata Mukundan, her good college friend and our neighbor in Fremont, was arriving in New York’s Penn Station from Philadelphia, where she was spending the spring break week with her sister. I had planned to take the “E” train to New York, but decided to take the Long Island Railroad from Archer Blvd instead. That would bring me into Penn station at around the same time, and we could go home together. It worked without a hitch, and 15 minutes after boarding the train at Archer Blvd., I was pulling into Penn Station.
We took the M16 home, and I arrived by 4:30 pm. Radha and Mahesh were getting ready to leave, to go spend a few days with a friend of theirs in Connecticut. Unfortunately, because of the airline snafu, I had not spent any time with them at all. It sounded like they had had an enjoyable trip, having spent two days using the hop-on hop-off tour bus to see all the sights, and having spent a day at the Met.
Lata and her kids took up residence in the guest room that Radha and Mahesh had just vacated, ensuring the reputation of the Ganapathy-Rajan household as an “open door” was protected! That night, I suggested that Lata and Sandhya go out and sample some of New York’s night life, while I’d stay home and look after the kids. I had slept little the previous night, and looked forward to crashing early on my own bed. Unfortunately, that was not to be – Dhruv and Vishruth slept in our bed, and I ended up on the Air Bed.
Sandhya and Dhruv took them on a “Duck” tour of New York City the next day, and she left in the afternoon.
Concert surprise
It was a Thursday, and since I had been in California on Monday, I went for a make-up music lesson. Michael had given me some really difficult pieces to learn, and because of my travel, I was ill-prepared. I blundered through the lesson, and was somewhat glad when it was over. I have to be more diligent at finding time to play.
As I was getting ready to leave, he asked me “Will you be willing to play at a concert of my students? In the first week of June.”
“Why not?” I replied. . I had the Juilliard in mind, and little did I know what I was signing up for.
He brought out a Manila envelope with the programs of his previous student concerts. “Here, this child – she was 6 years old. That boy, he was seven.” Then it dawned on me. There would be a score of children between 5 and 10, and then there would be me, approaching 40!! But there was no going back, and I’m now nervous about the pieces he’s suggesting I play. Charlie Chaplin’s “Smile”, Mozart’s “Lullaby”, A Russian Folk Song by Beethoven, and “Yankee Doodle”. Except the last one, I can’t play any of them halfway properly. And I have 6 weeks to go!!
Sandhya – Birthday # 1
Sandhya turned 36 on April 18th, and given all the guests we had had this week, she didn’t want to celebrate. But we found ourselves free on Friday, and so we called Sonia and asked her if we could leave Dhruv with her. Of course she obliged, and I made reservations at Vatan, a Gujarati restaurant a few blocks away. I had eaten there a few times before, and remember a prix fixe “Thali” of really tasty Gujarati food. You also sat cross-legged in a place that was done up like a village in India, with a tree spreading its branches like the Banyan tree that’s the fixture in any Indian village.
Unfortunately, between the last time I was there and this time, they had extensively redecorated the place, and gone were low tables and mattresses on which you sat cross-legged. We were given a small table in a narrow ‘alley’ upstairs, and while the food was reasonably good, the ambience had done, and the experience was disappointing. One improvement, however, was that the servings were much smaller, and we didn’t stuff our faces like I remember doing the previous times I had been there.
Since our reservation was for 6:30 pm, we were back in Sonia’s place at 8:00. It was also Jai’s birthday, and we polished off a couple of bottles of wine in his and Sandhya’s honor. Unfortunately, he was in India, and couldn’t join us…!
Mythili – Birthday # 2
Nitu’s daughter Mythili’s first birthday was being celebrated in an Indian restaurant in Morris Plains, New Jersey, an hour’s drive away. We reserved a ZipCar, and since we were going all the way there, I had emailed Kannan and Prasanna, classmates from business school who were married to each other, and who lived in that neck of the woods. We left Waterside at around 8:45 am, and a few missed exits later, pulled in their driveway at 10:00 am. They used to live in South Africa, and their lovely suburban home was beautifully and tastefully decorated with solid furniture and African artifacts. We spent a pleasant morning drinking Chai and eating Samosas in their sunlight dining area, overlooking a little wood behind. Their son played the piano for us – he was learning the Jazz piano and was participating in a National Level competition the next day – and he was frightfully talented. I put in a shamefully inadequate performance and Kannan gamely congratulated me on doing so well after just a few weeks of lessons.
We then set off for the birthday, arriving a little before noon. The party was in full swing, and a clown was entertaining the kids. We soon saw Dhruv being chased by, or chasing, a bunch of kids, and realized that the fact that he knew nobody other than Nandini was making no difference to him.
To our pleasant surprise, I found a few people I had known before (and had lost touch with), and spent the afternoon catching up with them. I had never expected to run into people I knew, and this was a pleasant surprise.
Since we had the car till 5:00 pm, we decided to go to Nitu / Ganesh’s place for some time, before driving back across the Hudson. Dhruv wanted to ride in Nandini’s van, so Sandhya and I drove off ahead. As we were approaching Newport, we saw a long line of traffic backing up, a few miles from the Holland Tunnel. We quickly took an exit, and navigated through bumper-to-bumper traffic on city streets to Nitu’s apartment. It was almost 3:30, and I was nervous about not making it back in time. I called Zipcar, and they confirmed that Yes, I did have to return it to the same location, and No, I couldn’t extend my reservation because someone had it after me. Gulp. ZipCar’s Late fees start at $50.
I decided to drop Sandhya off and immediately hit the road to get back to Waterside. I had been using the GPS on my Blackberry and because of the handsfree laws in this part of the world, a Bluetooth headset. My cellphone battery was now down to one bar. I turned off the Bluetooth.
I soon plunged into the bumper-to-bumper traffic leading into the tunnel. I patiently waited behind a long line of traffic in the right lane (which I knew would turn into the tunnel), while traffice whizzed by in the left lane. I knew that they were probably going ahead and then cutting back into the right lane and entering the tunnel, but the law-abiding side of me refused to let me do the same thing. I crawled along, wondering when I should call ZipCar to say I wouldn’t be able to make it back in time. 4:15? 4:30? I decided that if I wasn’t inside the tunnel by 4:30, I’d call them.
At 4:25, I made the final right turn to the tunnel. As I was pulling into the EZ-Pass lane, I noticed an warning light had come on and the steering wheel had suddenly become really hard – almost immovable. I called Zipcar again – and told them what was happening. “Thank you, Sir. We’ll make sure to tell the next member” she cheerfully replied.
I drove slowly through the tunnel and got out on the other side. It was 4:35. The steering was worse. I navigated the narrow streets of SoHo, too nervous to take in the beautiful buildings in the area. The streets were crowded with tourists, most of them too busy taking photographs or taking in the scenery to notice when they had a “Walk” signal. The steering was really awful by this time. I decided that Zipcar needed to know that the car would be effectively unusable by the next member. Consequences be damned. I called then again.
“There’s this alarm light on the dash, and the steering is really hard.” I told ‘Wayne’ from ZipCar. I had the message well-honed by this time, and my battery was really low. I was also in a part of town that I didn’t know well enough for me to turn off the GPS / Maps to conserve batter. I was hoping this would get me off the hook and I wouldn’t have to return it by 5:00.
“No problem. This happens with the Mazdas,” he replied. “Just turn off the engine and start it again.”
I had just pulled up at a red light, and decided to try. Hoping that it wouldn’t fix the problem, I restarted the car. Just my luck – the light went out, and the steering was wonderfully free again. “Yes, it’s working now,” I said. “I’ve been driving slowly because of the steering and hope to make it back by 5 pm.”
“Oh, I can give you another half-hour” He said.
Whew!! What a relief that was. My drive back was trouble free after that, and I got to Waterside at around 5:10.
My cousin Murali came in from India that night, and Dhruv dodged sleeping in his own bedroom on one more night. Lata was supposed to come and spend Saturday afternoon with us, because she had a flight to catch the next morning, from JFK. However, she changed her mind and stayed on with her sister – I don’t know what we would’ve done if she’d come with her two kids – even the Air Bed might not have been enough.
Anya – Birthday # 3
On Sunday morning, Lata called from JFK airport.
“They’re asking for volunteers to take a later flight,” she told Sandhya. “Can I come and spend some time at your place and catch a flight in the evening?”
“Of course,” Sandhya replied.
We had a birthday to attend, and rushed off to the Upper East Side, hoping to back quickly so that we could spend time with Lata and the kids. To our pleasant surprise, we again met people I had known before, and despite not knowing anyone other than the hosts, we spent a pleasant morning at the birthday party. We even met someone who was Lata’s sister’s classmate at Engineering School, and who knew Lata well!
Staten Island Ferry
We got back and hustled Lata and the kids out of the house, to make the most of the few hours they had left. Given that we were seven of us (Murali, Lata, Us and three kids), we took an M15 bus down to South Ferry, to take the Staten Island Ferry out to Staten Island and back. I had figured out the right subway for her to take to get to the airport in time for her 7 pm flight.
“You have your boarding pass, don’t you?” I confirmed with Lata.
“Yes, I do.” She replied.
The bus meandered around Chinatown, and finally got us to South Ferry by 10 minutes to 4. We quickly ran inside the ferry building, and boarded the 4:00 pm Ferry outbound. I verified that there was a ferry coming immediately back – we didn’t have any margin of error and I didn’t want to be stuck on Staten Island.
The ferry ride was uneventful. We enjoyed spectacular clear and warm weather, and a lovely view of the Statue of Liberty. Best of all, the ride is free, the boat is large and comfortable, and the children had a free run of the place.
We docked back by 5:00 pm, and we walked quickly to the Broad Street subway station. I had planned for her to catch the J or Z line to Jamaica, and then the AirTraain. We shot off a quick picture in front of the NYSE and then went down the stairs to find the subway station locked. I checked a few other entrances, and they were all closed.
“Where can we enter the subway station?” I called out to the policeman on duty at the NYSE.
“The station’s closed on weekends.” he replied.
Uh-oh. Not a cab in sight, and I had no idea which way to walk. I decided to walk towards the water, figuring I’d hit FDR drive sooner or later. Thankfully, we found a cab a couple of blocks away, put Lata and the kids in, and had them off on their merry way.
We then boarded an M15 bus back to Murray Hill, where we planned to have dinner at Ali Baba, which was Zagat’s top-rated Turkish restaurant in Manhattan.
While we were on the bus, Lata called.
“I’m crossing Flatbrush Avenue,” she said “do you know how long it takes from here?”
“What does the driver say?” Sandhya asked her.
“He’s busy talking on the phone so I can’t ask him,” she replied.
I quickly pulled up Google maps and tried to find where she was. Thankfully, she seemed no more than 15 minutes from the airport. As we got off the bus, she called back to say she had arrived in time. Whew.
We had dinner and then went home. The dinner wasn’t as spectacular as we thought it would be – although we were pleasantly surprised by the number of vegetarian options they had.
The story doesn’t end there. Lata called the next morning, from Salt Lake City. It turned out that she hadn’t had a boarding pass, something that was pointed out to her when she tried to go through security. She dashed back to the counter to find a long line. She frantically searched for, and found, a supervisor, who told her it was too late. She was then put on a flight to Salt Lake City, spent the night there, and then went on to San Francisco on Monday morning.
Sandhya remarked that my “Airline Karma” was really bad this year. First we missed our US Airways connection in Charlotte. Then I had problems boarding a flight to Thailand because my passport didn’t have 6 months validity. Then I had missed my flight from SFO, and finally this. I’ve got to be more careful this year, just in case she’s right.
Monday, April 13, 2009
A low-high week
Monday, April 6, 2009
Wild parties, more guests and aircraft carriers
Pizza overdose and California Trip
I had to make a short trip out to California this week and departed JFK on Monday afternoon. Sandhya said she would back some sandwiches for me to eat on the flight, but something came up and she forgot to do it. I picked up a slice of pizza at the airport and ate it on my way to SFO. I borrowed a friend's car and drove down to my cousin’s place in Cupertino. Funnily, they had ordered pizza for dinner and so I went through another round of pizza there. After my meeting the next day, my colleagues and I were looking for a place to have lunch in Mountain View, and the only place we found was an Italian restaurant. I thought I would have pasta, but since they had large pizzas which all of us could share, my colleagues insisted on us sharing a pizza -- that was number three. At the end of our meal, there were a few slices leftover, and since I had a flight back to New York, I packed them and carried them with me -- meal number four! I had truly overdosed on pizza by the end of that trip.
I arrived back at JFK at close to 10 PM and decided to brave public transport instead of taking a taxi. Unfortunately, the first air train that came by took me to the Howard Beach station, instead of Jamaica. The Howard Beach station is only served by the 'A' line, whereas the Jamaica station is served by three lines -- E, J and Z. at the time of the evening, I had to wait for almost 25 minutes before a train came along, and I reached home only close to midnight. Serves me right for not listening to Google maps public transit feature, which suggested going to Jamaica.
Visitors galore
On Wednesday evening, we had a good friend from Fremont, Srinivas Vijayaraghavan stop by for dinner. His Facebook status had read that he was going to be and he was wondering whether his ex-Fremont hillbillies (that would be us) would have time to meet with him. As is her wont, Sandhya had prepared a pretty exhaustive spread and I hope Srini was happy with the reception that he got.
On Friday afternoon, Sameer Nori, a childhood friend, and his wife Ramya stopped in on their way back from Boston to Washington DC, where they live. They stayed with us through Sunday morning.
And when it rains, it pours – a friend from the Bay Area who is visiting business schools on the East Coast came home on Sunday morning – he had come in on the red-eye and it was way too early for him to drop in on any of his friends – anything before 11 AM on a Sunday morning is too early for 20-somethings. On the other hand we were up and about at 7 AM.
40th birthday party
On Friday evening, Sonia celebrated her 40th birthday, which was last week. The do was at a really smart nightclub in the ultra-chic meatpacking district. Sandhya and I left Dhruv with a babysitter at a friend’s place in Building 10. They have two children who are about the same age and the three of them enjoy each other's company.
We arrived at the nightclub at close to 9 PM, to find that the party was just getting started. It was in a private room in the basement – a bar on one side, a and had a very cool blue hue all around. There were a lot of beautiful women, and smartly dressed young men. A really top class DJ belted out a mix of songs from the 70s and the 80s (the sort of music all of us grew up on) and remixes of the latest Bollywood numbers. Someone whispered that the DJ worked at a hedge fund as his day-job.
We didn't know a lot of people there, but that didn't really matter -- we made several new friends and generally let our hair down with some really vigorous dancing. The bartender was mixing some really good mojitos (so Sandhya tells me) and everyone was in high spirits. Close to midnight, they brought out a big cake, which Sonia cut and in true Desi style proceeded to try to smear on everybody who was within reach.
At one point in the evening, I don't know why I checked my Blackberry -- and found an e-mail that needed an urgent response. I found a quiet corner and after banging out a response, began to take a few notes on the party so that I would remember the details when it came to writing this blog post.
"Are you working in a party?" I suddenly heard a female voice in my ear.
"No, I'm just making notes for a post on a blog that I write each week from my experiences in New York." I replied, looking up. She was short, fair and quite pretty. I had noticed her earlier but hadn't been introduced.
"You have to let me read whatever you’re writing." She said. "That's a New York rule. Anybody who looks at his Black Berry in a party has to show everybody whatever is there on it."
I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. I definitely didn't want her to read the urgent e-mail that I just replied to.
"You should read the post when it's finished." I said. "Give me your e-mail address, and I'll send you a link to the blog."
That seemed to mollify her -- and she gave me her e-mail address. We then got chatting and discovered we had several friends in common. A close shave indeed.
An active Saturday
On Saturday afternoon, we gave Sameer and Ramya a quick tour of the Met – given the time that we had, we focused on the usual suspects -- the Egyptian section and the Impressionists. However, this time, we also ventured into the Modern Art section, where I enjoyed an excellent Rockwell and lots of O’Keefe.
It was almost 3 PM by the time we finished, and I was really famished. I really felt like one of those excellent Falafel sandwiches you find at every street corner in New York. But when you need something really badly, you never find one – we walked several blocks on a cold and very windy day before we gave up and jumped into a cab. A few minutes later we were at (where else?) Kathi Roll Company in Midtown. Gluttony overtook us and we walked a few blocks North to Sukhadia‘s for Chaat, but were really disappointed in the quality.
We then took Sameer and Ramya through Times Square and then down Broadway to Herald Square. The streets were really crowded with Tourists – if it’s like this at this time of the year and in this weather, I dread to think what it will be like when school’s out and the summer’s here!!
On Saturday evening, we spoke to my parents over Skype – they are visiting a cousin in Singapore. Both Dhruv and I played the piano for them over Skype and I think they enjoyed it.
Visiting the Intrepid
On Sunday morning, after all our guests had left, we took a bus across town to visit the Intrepid Air and Space Museum. The USS Intrepid is a de-commissioned aircraft carrier anchored on the Hudson in Midtown West, and has been converted to a Museum. It saw action in World War II and Vietnam, and was also a recovery ship for some Mercury and Gemini missions. It was fascinating to stand on the deck and imagine Kamikaze planes slamming into the island (Intrepid was hit 5 times), or to imagine Gus Grissom landing on the deck and taking a call from President Kennedy after his ill-fated loss of the Mercury capsule.
Dhruv and I enjoyed sitting in an A-8 simulator and trying to land on a carrier. We came in a bit too fast, and missed the arrestor wires.
The Intrepid museum also has a Concorde parked alongside, and we walked through it for a quick peek. It is surprisingly small and cramped – a result of the need to maintain a narrow cross-section for supersonic flight.
The “Growler” – a submarine that’s part of the same complex – was undergoing renovations and closed when we visited.
I don’t know if the museum was worth the relatively steep entry ($20 each – it would have been $55 for the three of us). It was free for us because we are Bank of America customers, and under their “Museums on Us” program, entry is free on the first weekend of every month.
“Good Enough” Parenting
After the Intrepid, we caught a bus and walked to Central Park, where Dhruv spent time climbing around the rocks. Sandhya and I watched from a distance, and there were times when he was out of sight. The place was really crowded with hundreds of Children and Adults. Sandhya occasionally panicked when she couldn’t see him for an extended period of time, and I fought hard to keep from panicking. I am a big fan of what Psychotherapist Mark Epstein calls “Good Enough Parenting” – the ability to allow a child a full range of experiences to allow them to develop fully. Parents should intervene only when a child is doing something that is likely to cause serious or permanent harm. I find that as I get older, my ability to keep mind from racing (and therefore my pulse) diminishes. When Dhruv is standing close to the curb, for example -- dancing around as he often does – it takes a lot of self-control to keep myself from taking his hand and holding him firmly away from the traffic. He now knows that when a Subway is pulling into the station he has to stay at least 4 rows of tiles away from it – and he listens. But I still take his hand to make sure. I have to work harder at keeping my cool – that’s the only way he’ll develop the responsibility and judgment that will stand him in good stead as he grows up.