Man, how could I have gotten it wrong when being right would have been even better. Just to get this out of the way right at the top, in my December 12, 2011 post regarding Mr. Supreme’s candidacy, I erroneously referred to him as Vernon, not Vermin, Supreme. Even though my eyes read the word Vermin, my brain apparently just would not accept Vermin as a name. Apologies to you, Vermin, from both the Pony and me for that goof. Here’s a photo of Vermin taken during the campaign in New Hampshire. I think you can guess which person is Vermin (credit to Wikipedia for this lovely shot).
But the great news is Vermin’s third place finish in New Hampshire, where he captured 1.4% of the Democratic vote. That’s a larger percentage of the vote than Rick Perry got on the Republican side. In spite of misspelling Vermin’s name, my post of December 10 regarding Vermin turned out to be the most-read post in the blog’s history, with over 1400 views so far. That’s more views than Vermin’s vote count of 823. It’s obvious to this writer that Vermin benefited from what the Pony and I are calling “The Pony Bump.” We wish Vermin continued success as he continues down the campaign trail. Watch out President Obama, any misstep and there’ll be Vermin all over ya.
On to other news…using that term in its absolute broadest sense. While the candidates were falling all over themselves up in NH, The Princess and I took “The Big Apple” by storm. There were a couple of art museum exhibitions that The Princess just had to see, so we spent the better part of 5 days up there emersed in culture and the unique “vibe” of New York City. Some of what follows is going to sound like whining, and I don’t mean it to. So when I mention some of the down side of the city, please realize that all the crap one puts up with while you’re there is worth it for the stuff that simply doesn’t exist anywhere else.
So sure, you can get a cab driver that drops you off and wants $55, plus tip (and says oh by the way my credit card machine is on the fritz), but afterwards you can relax and fill your stomach at a place like “Japadog,” yeah that’s right, a Japanese hot dog restaurant.
And yeah, your room for about $300 a night has a bathroom so small that when you stand in front of the mirror, your butt is jammed tight against the door, but where else but NYC could you then go out and shop for your dog at a store called “Canine Styles,” solely devoted to clothes for dogs?
In the Starbucks some guy yells at you if you don’t spit out your order fast enough, but when your coffee’s gone you could visit the “Ya Ya Nails and Spa” to take the edge off.
You can have a $3 glass of wine in a dark little joint called the Art Bar where they’ve got a bat hanging from the ceiling (wearing a Santa hat), but you also can sit in a classy joint up in the mezzanine of Grand Central Station and have a $15 martini that will knock your socks off, all while watching thousands of your fellow beings rushing to catch their trains down below.
I tell you what, it was a lot like Master Card used to say: One day in New York, about $750. Watching The Princess enjoy the art of some of her favorite artists, priceless. From MOMA to the Whitney, to the Brooklyn Museum, from exhibitions of de Kooning to Diego Rivera and David Smith, and seeing great and famous works by Monet, Van Gogh, Picasso and on and on, she wore herself out (me too) soaking it all in.
She even took son Andy and me on a walking tour of all of the former NYC addresses of artist Joan Mitchell. Here’s a shot of her in front of one of those residences.
On our last day we cancelled and rebooked our flight home and took a second tour through MOMA and the de Kooning exhibit (its last day too).
And lest you think The Princess and I cruised around town in the luxury of cabs all the time, you should know that we bought $20 subway passes and used them all up. Andy was a great tour guide and helped get us everywhere we wanted to be. One does forget though how much work it is climbing up the stairs out of those subways. Whew!
A favorite scene of mine from the trip was the trip from the Intercontinental Hotel to the Waldorf Astoria. I was so incensed by the tiny room we had that I booked a room at the Waldorf, so we had to schlep the bag around the corner (only about a block) from the Intercontinental. With Andy pulling The Princess’s bag, me pulling my bag and the Princess walking regally in the middle to the new hotel, well, I wish I had a picture for ya, but it was classic Princess. And each time we’d check in, it was, “Now they do have an in-room safe don’t they?” God forbid The Princess’s crown jewels might be stolen.
Regrettably, the Waldorf wasn’t much better than the Intercontinental (well, it did cost more), but I was tired of caravaning across Manhattan by the time we got there, so we stayed. Naturally, I gave management “a bad hour” on check-out and the knucklehead actually had the audacity to “low ball” me on a discount. I think he knew he’d met a Boehmke by the time we parted. But speaking of Boehmke, as we left the hotel, the gentleman that retrieved our bags and then stowed them in the cab said, “Hope you enjoyed your stay, Mr. Boehmke,” AND PRONOUNCED IT PERFECTLY. Now that guy should be running the hotel!
Thanks for putting up with this little travelogue. I’m heading out to Gene’s tomorrow to see how the Pony’s doing, so next post I’m sure there’ll be tractor news. In the meantime, thanks for reading. I’ll leave you with this little shot I’m calling “Moon Over Manhattan.”
Thanks for reading.
PS: Joy, it was wonderful to meet you. Relieved to find out you are nothing like the Glenn Close character in “Damages.”