How To Survive An Earthquake (Manhattan Style)

Hopefully one day years from now, when I'm 103 years old, sitting in my rocking chair wrapped under a really warm blanket, if I'm blessed with grandchildren, they'll ask me, "Grandpa, where were you during the Great East Coast Earthquake of 2011? And why do you always smell like Campho Phenique?" I'll look at them wistfully, with wry sentimental wisdom borne of experience and unfailing family love, and I'll respond "Stop bothering me, I can't hear the TV with your constant yakking." And they'll say, "you better tell us old man, or we're going to tell Mom about that time you took us to Hooter's after you picked us up from school." And I'll say, "OK, FINE, I was sitting on a bar stool and eating lunch, and didn't know there was an earthquake until half an hour later when I saw all these evacuated nimrods standing out in the street milling about aimlessly. And by the way, your mother's a total bitch." True story. Or it will be.

That's right. I didn't even know about the killer East Coast Earthquake of 2011 until about 20 minutes after finishing a really tasty Cuban lunch, when I saw all these fluorescent-light bleached out office workers standing around in the street, saying they'd been evacuated because of the earthquake. That's the earthquake, for those of you who pay attention to these things, that was located about 80 miles south of Washington, D.C., not New York, and which was strong enough in DC to knock over some of Aunt Mildred's shot glass collection. Though from the round-the-clock reports that ensued on every TV channel, you'd have thought half the east coast had slid into the Atlantic Ocean. More about that later, however.

This post picks up where I left off, two posts ago, describing a long August weekend trip I spent exploring the greatest city in the world, New York. That's right, everyone, New York is the greatest city in the world. Its taken me a long time to get to that point, and I've had to overcome a LOT of prejudice against New York. When I first went there in the late 1980s, I was sure the whole time I was going to be killed. Or freeze to death. But over successive trips (and owing to Giuliani's big cleanup) I've realized I completely misjudged New York. Its the greatest city in the world, and its not even close. Almost every culture and nationality in the world has some members living there. Ok, maybe not some lost Amazonian pygmy cannibal communities, but pretty much everyone else. It features priceless art and historical artifacts, world-leading centers of education, major world financial and corporate headquarters, leading performing arts venues and institutions, world journalism headquarters, cutting edge medical facilities, iconic neighborhoods and parks, the leading world airport, iconic architecture, and the most important professional sports team in the world. More decisions that affect the entire world are made in New York City every day than anywhere else, including London. So it deserves all the Daily Affirmation attention it gets.

OK, the next day involved getting together with my good friend Tracy and her son Jack. We spent a good part of the day together. Before hooking up around noon, I had to do a little work. I had breakfast at the Union Square Whole Foods Market, which was totally bizarre. I arrived when it opened at 9 a.m. They had their usual yuppie-friendly classic rock blaring all over the place, all the food bars were completely stocked, and all the smug, morally SOOO superior to your tortured artist employees were behind the counters. But the customers weren't there. I was the only one, at least for about 10 minutes. Sort of like a Twilight Zone episode where all the humans disappeared except one hapless guy who goes insane looking for everyone. After going back to the hotel and finishing my work (at the downstairs bar, thanks a lot), I finally ventured out into what was shaping up as a glorious day in the city.

Tracy was running a bit late (in fairness so was I), so I stopped for lunch at a place called Brother Jimmy's Barbecue before meeting them. Like Tex-Mex or Cajun, it was one of those places that obviously thought it was totally awesome, largely because it was barbecue in New York and therefore could have been only slightly better than food poison and still have been the best barbecue in New York. Its like eating enchiladas in Seattle...don't expect much. Some things just don't travel. But it was close to Tracy's apartment and I could get in and out fast.

Our first stop, after some unexpected effort, was to take a tour boat from the Battery Maritime Terminal downtown past Ellis Island and out to the Statue of Liberty, up the East River past the Brooklyn and Manhattan Bridges, and back around to the Hudson River as far as Battery Park City. The taxi ride to get there was just as adventurous. The cabbie dropped us at the wrong place, near Clinton Castle. Tracy had never been on this tour before and didn't know the area, so we got to go on our own little expedition through downtown. Eventually we made it to the terminal building though. The boat was pretty crowded, despite the fact it was a Monday in September. Some places in the world are always going to have tourists, and Lower Manhattan is one of those places. The Statue of Liberty was pretty inspiring. Apparently, actually going to the statue takes all day and you can only go into the base now due to safety restrictions. But actually seeing the statue up close, which of course I'd seen photos of my whole life, was memorable. I was grateful to see it with special friends too.

From there, we took another taxi ride up to midtown to check out Rockefeller Center, specifically to go on the "Top of the Rock" tour at the top of 30 Rockefeller Center. That's where they keep NBC. The tour operation is pretty efficient, given how many people are trying to get in. They run you through a video showing the history of Rockefeller Center and NBC, which was quite interesting. Then you get to the multi-level observation deck, with amazing views in every direction. Above you can see the three of us on the north side with Central Park and the Upper West Side (and the Hudson River and ultimately New Jersey) in the background. The other side offers spectacular views of the Empire State Building, Chrysler Building, East River and Brooklyn Bridge. Rather than view-obscuring fencing or screens, Rockefeller Center uses plexiglass. The tour employees were so much nicer than their bitter, nasty Empire State Building counterparts. Word to the wise-skip the Empire State Building. Horrible, humiliating experience, and the views aren't nearly as good as Rockefeller Center. Plus, if you're meeting your shipboard romance there after six months apart, she's going to get paralyzed. Oops! Spoiler Alert!

Tracy and Jack had to go home so we parted ways there. I went back to the hotel, changed, then headed back over to the Park for an incredible three mile run around the Reservoir (actually, the "Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis Reservoir"). The sun was setting, and the air felt a slight chill. People filled the ash and dirt trail that encircles the Reservoir, some running, some walking, and some taking Fido out for a stroll.

After making it back to the hotel and changing, I suited up (a traditional "last night out of town" move), and headed to the Blue Water Grill in Union Square. I'd been there before and knew to expect a fantastic seafood dinner, and it didn't disappoint. I enjoyed a fantastic blackened swordfish and baby greens salad.

The next day, Tuesday, was a getaway day. But my flight (another three hour delay, thanks again Jet Blue bastards) wasn't until late so I had basically the whole day to continue exploring the city. I focused once again on areas below me, that is, below 23rd street. Before venturing very far, though, I spent a few minutes in the actual Gramercy Park. This is a private park at the foot of Lexington Avenue, located just across from my hotel.

First up was the Bowery. I halfway expected the Bowery to be like "skid row," with "bums" lined up outside soup kitchens and Sky Masterson going into the Salvation Army mission. "The Bowery Boys" and all that. But like most of 21st Century Manhattan, its gone condo. Other than the existence of a number oddly grouped appliance repair and restaurant supply stores, the Bowery is pretty indistinguishable from many other lower Manhattan neighborhoods. Trendy clothing stores, bars, restaurants, and loft buildings dominated the scene. Oh, sure, the Bowery Poetry Club still operates pretentiously on Bowery Street just up from the Village Voice offices (wow, there's a name I haven't heard since, like, 1974), but you can buy skinny jeans on the same block. One skinny jeans type store, John Varvatos, lured me in, however. I didn't jot down the name, sorry, but the window displays featured old high-end stereo equipment: Macintosh turntables, Marantz amps and pre-amps, Sony reel-to-reel tape players, JVC speakers, and the like. I walked in under the guise of shopping, and the entire store was filled with this kind of equipment. It was the kind of stuff I used to read about in High Fidelity magazine in the 8th grade. Equipment that I imagined only Hugh Hefner or Elvis actually had in their homes. I wasn't really AV nerd in school, but I was kind of sympathetic. Seeing all that old equipment fascinated me. I go to New York and spend my time looking at 1970s stereo equipment. Huh. The store also had rock posters and show bills all over the walls. I couldn't account for it while I was there. Little did I know at the time, but this was the location of the old CBGB's club. That's right. The place where the Ramones, Talking Heads, Blondie, New York Dolls, and countless other punk bands played in the 70s and 80s. When I found out I was appalled, but on reflection, considering how most Americans would gladly destroy their history to make as much as five dollars, I'm over it. At least its not an Olive Garden.

From the Bowery I walked over to NoLita, at the hotel concierge's recommendation. NoLita stands for North of Little Italy. Its also north of Chinatown and west of the Bowery. Though its also filled with shops, NoLita strikes me as more of an authentic neighborhood, with offices, apartments, and other "daily life" locations. Historically it was regarded as part of Little Italy, but now its more like Little Gen X Ville. I may have been the oldest person I saw in the entire place. The architecture is kind of early industrial revolution. Very functional yet with some ornate touches. The recommendation was right on; I saw very few tourists rearing their ugly heads. Or cameras. Or Disney Store shopping bags.

I ate lunch at an incredible Cuban restaurant, Cafe Habana on Prince Street. It opens on to the street, and on this fine day it was packed with people on their lunch hour. I sat at the bar and had the roast pork plate, with black beans and spicy sauteed spinach. It was awesome. I was so enthralled with lunch that I didn't actually notice the 5.8 magnitude earthquake that hit about 80 miles south of DC. It may have had some noticeable impacts in Washington, but I didn't feel a thing. That was some good pork, I'm tellin ya. I didn't learn about the quake until I walked out of the cafe and saw little crowds gathered outside each building. In talking to some people, they said they noticed the quake, but only because they saw light fixtures sway or something roll on a table. Ironically, experts say that people shouldn't evacuate buildings after earthquakes. Its too risky; if the building starts to collapse, you could be trapped. Instead, you should go to a door frame or other well supported part of the structure. Anyway, everyone was milling about as we tried to figure out what had happened. Miracle of the 21st Century, I was able to find out in seconds on my blackberry, instead of having to wait until I could find a radio. But for the rest of the day and into the evening, the media went into full "Earthquake 2011" wall to wall coverage lockdown. It was ridiculous, especially since lots of people didn't even notice anything in New York. I guess it was a slow Kim Kardashian news day.

After enduring the hell that is an earthquake, I needed a treat to overcome my mounting sense of survivor guilt. So when I saw the Best Chocolate Cake In the World store, I gave in. I had a piece of the best chocolate cake in the world. Actually...not so much. I suppose it could have been. It was of the not moist variety, using dark chocolate. It just wasn't that cakey. Not much in the way of frosting. Good, but not the best in the world. Still, I enjoyed a little sweet to overcome the natural disaster trauma.

I then spent the rest of my lovely Monday afternoon walking through SoHo and the Village along with about 50 million other tourists. Not the greatest way to spend my time, but still it beat the hell out of sitting at my desk at work. I made it out to JFK, just in time to start yet another three hour Jet Blue flight delay. Good times. A perfect end to a long, long weekend.

NEXT-more preachiness.