Sunday 6 April 2008

Beantowns and Big Apples

Wow, it really sucks to try to get online at Harvard when you're no longer a student. I ended up paying $10 for 24 hours of wireless at Starbucks, because it was nominally cheaper than paying for it at the hotel. Mostly, though, I've just tried to avoid my computer entirely. I hung out with my brother on Wednesday, spent Thursday pretending to be a student at the law school and living vicariously through others, and then went to tea on Thursday and caught up with everyone in Lowell before dinner with my mom and brother at the Bombay Club. (I ate one of those syrup balls that feel like they'll kill you, and while I still don't know what they are, they're crazy delicious.) David's show, Blasted, opened on Friday, so my mom and I spent it on our own while he finished up logistics for the opening. When we checked into our hotel, my mom and I met in the lobby and the concierge apparently thought our reunion was cute, because he mentioned that he hadn't seen his parents in years and gave us a free breakfast coupon for the restaurant. The other concierge was like, wow, dude, I had no idea. And the breakfast was delicious, and I had many types of fruits and granola and when the waitress was like, but what about pancakes? I was like, whatevs, why not? and had those too. We mostly just poked around all day after that, and I got a couple of cute shirts at American Apparel (which were wholly unnecessary because I'm going to be in the Philippines for most of the summer and the last thing I need is extra clothing to deal with when I have to pack up my room at Oxford), we picked up wine and flowers for the show, and then we went to Mariposa for baked goods and took a post-scone nap. (Let's be real, those are the best kinds of naps.)

The show was good - incredibly uncomfortable, but in a very productive, provocative way. I told David at the afterparty that I don't do well with a) clipped dialogue, b) the presence of an unused gun onstage, and c) theatrical rapes, and there are of those things in abundance in the show. (A gun is in someone's hand, often pointed at someone else while clipped dialogue is spoken and rape is occurring, for probably the majority of the show.) It ended and I realized that I was drenched in cold sweat and had to put a sweatshirt on so that everyone at the afterparty wouldn't be like, psst, see that sweaty guy? That's the producer's brother. Anyway, if you're in Boston, buy tickets for next weekend's shows.

I slept very briefly, then my mom and I went to New York, met Brady (who graciously stood at TKTS and got us orchestra tickets to A Chorus Line), had brunch at Eatery (where I had sangria at 11:30am with granola, candied pecans, dried mangoes, strawberries, blueberries, and vanilla yogurt, and it was awesome), and then wandered up to Columbus Circle and down through Times Square. My mom had never been to New York, and it was a total blast to take her for the first time. I thought the production of A Chorus Line was pretty good, although after the previous night's show, I was like, stop complaining, it's not like you've had somebody tear your vagina or eat your eyes. Try dancing after that, kids. But it was still good, and I developed a fairly intense crush on Paul McGill, who was probably in the cast of La Cage Aux Folles when I saw that, but apparently wasn't wearing tight enough pants or something at the time. Because now, I think I may be in love.

Afterwards, Brady and I took my mom to Tasti D-Lite in Chelsea, then met up with Emma and Mischa for dinner at this Cuban place in the Village, then we all went to Magnolia for a cupcake. (I'm all about the dessert-meal-dessert combo. It's hard to pull off, but awesome when it works.) And then we caught a late bus, and David and I just stuck my mom in a cab and now I'm just hanging out till I fly back to London on Wednesday. I should probably do work soon, but I'm worried that I might have forgotten how.

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