I love New York City in the same way I love Las Vegas. It tends to be a hot love affair that fizzles quickly. I leave feeling as though I have been run over by a mack truck swearing to never return again. Only in six months I find myself wishing that I can recreate that magic and my desire to return intensifies.
Yesterday was my first day in NYC in a year. It started with an oh so magical and "nothing says NYC like lunch at the Olive Garden" promptly followed by an industry meeting. Joy. Off to a great start. In the evening I stepped up my NYC-ness and had dinner at Budakahn, drinks at Pastis with post drinks at Cielo.
Let me go off on a small tangent here....my own personal version of hell is a techno/house music bar where I can't hear anyone. Which is a exactly what Cielo is. That is exactly what I am not.
I am, for the record, a girl who drinks beer in a bottle, loves steak and potatoes, believes in the right to carry a gun, can drive a stick shift, understands odds at a sports book, can ride a horse, rope a dummy calf, has a masters degree in business and plays poker...in heels. To me this sums up my total and utter disdain for uber trendy bars where it is important to be seen and not heard.
Give me a dive bar with a dart board and a maybe even a shuffle board table. Scoff at the person who wants to know what kind of vodka you have NOT at the person who wants a Bud Light bottle.
But I digress.
Today was meetings and tradeshow. Oh how fun is that?
But dinner? Dinner was at Del Frisco's. Del Frisco's equals heaven. (Del Frisco's also apparently equals every New York man who wears a suit. Seriously, the male/female ratio was 60:1) Ah-maz-ing. Ah-maz-ing. Love it. Will return. Drinks at the W afterwards.
I am ready to go home to see my furry babies. Not ready to go home to my empty house. I don't feel like a failure on the road. I can pretend that my life is normal here. But when I return home...I am anything but normal.