Got up at 4am for a 7:30 flight to La Guardia, which ended up leaving 1/2 hour late. Oh well... Darling Husband was right across the aisle and I had a great conversation with the guy in the middle seat next to me, who's a theatrical sound designer. He told me about a friend of his, a lighting technician who fell from a 30-foot catwalk and broke both her wrists, as well as some ribs. She's on her 2nd round of surgery & may end up not being able to bend her left wrist again. Yet another reminder that Things Could Always Be Worse. My right arm may be screwed up (I winced every time my seatmate brushed against it), but at least I can use my hand and go out and about.
DH and I took the subway down to South Ferry and walked around Battery Park just before dinner. The sun was shining gold off the Hudson, a full moon was over Brooklyn, a breeze was blowing, the waves were lapping and Latino men were landing big fish right and left. All was right with the world.
Along with my BEA registration came a copy of the new Pauline Frommer's guide to NYC. The binding is so shoddy that the first two pages came loose as soon as I opened the book. But once I saw that she gave a high rating to one of my favorite Chinese restaurants (Jing Fong on Elizabeth St. below Canal), she had my trust. And she didn't steer me wrong: After wandering along the waterfront, DH and I took a cab to Les Enfants Terribles (at Canal & Division Sts.), where we had a fantabulous--and reasonably priced--dinner. The drinks and food were as sublime, and the staff and customers as exotic and gorgeous as Frommer indicated. And after two marvelous, minty mojitos I was feeling absolutely no pain. (Wish they delivered to the Javits Center.)
At the start of our meal, on one side just outside there was a table of 4 animatedly speaking Chinese, on the other side the scene at the bar was in French, the hostess and waitress were Australian, and there were two gorgeous model types--one Asian, one African--at a table in the corner. After a while, the Chinese gave way to a stunning young woman & a plainer gal pal speaking French, occasionally joined by a French (Parisian from the sound of him) guy from the kitchen, all sharing Marlboros (the model types were lighting up outside too...*sigh*); the Francophones at the bar were mostly replaced by Aussies. Marvin Gaye's "Got to Give It Up" undulated throughout. I was in heaven (the cigarette smoke was blowing the other way) , especially while savoring every last molecule of the chocolate "cake"--really more like pudding/mousse. Some Enchanted Evening! To top it all off, our cab uptown went from Canal to 47 St without hitting any red lights.
But every spell must come to an end. Tomorrow I hit the ground running, starting with a breakfast meeting, and don't stop till I stagger onto the plane Sunday afternoon. I'm fortified with a bottle of B12 supplements. Hope my voice lasts.