New York City, March 2007: Day 3, March 9, 2007 (Hail the conquering hero...)
The last day of my business/leisure trip to Gotham City was uneventful. After spending some quiet time in prayer with my girlfriend and on my own, I showered, dressed, packed and checked out of the hotel. Braving the slight chill with semi-damp hair, I hailed a cab at West 36th Street and 10th Ave. Not to sound racist, but every cab driver I’ve ever had has been of either Arabic, Indian or Persian descent, but not this time. I found myself in the company of a West African. I was instantaneously chatty. I got most of his life story and he got most of mine. It made the ride through the traffic at the Midtown Tunnel pass by quickly. After he dropped me at the airport, I gave him my card and asked that he look me up if he’s ever in Atlanta. I felt good to make a foreign friend in somewhat familiar city.
After going through the ordeal of checking into the flight, checking my bags and going through security, I finally found myself relaxing with a nice sized breakfast sandwich from an airport Burger King, gazing out the window watching planes land. I found peace in watching huge pieces of metal and electronics glide through the air only to touch down safely at over 150 miles per hour. It was calming.
I was happy to go home after such a successful event. More so, I was glad to get back to my girlfriend whom I had grown to miss over these past three days. The flight back was quick seeing that I had fallen asleep as soon as the plane left the gate. I arrived home in Atlanta to a welcoming office and an even more welcoming girlfriend who missed me just the same.
New York City, March 2007: Day 2, March 8, 2007 (All Aboard!)
Let me first say that I love train travel. Experiencing European trains during my study abroad trip in 2002 hooked me on the comfort, convenience and shear enjoyment of riding the rails. American rail travel on the other hand needs some work, but not aboard Amtrak’s
Acela Express. This was the reason for my trip to NYC in the first place.
I work for
IMAGES USA, a multicultural marketing agency in Atlanta, GA. We were tasked by Amtrak to help build their African American and Hispanic ridership. This trip was for the African American and Hispanic media from New York City and Philadelphia. We rode the
Acela Express from NYC’s Penn Station, stopping in Philadelphia to pick up more media and ending in Washington, D.C. for lunch. We then reversed our course to bring all the media home.
Acela Express is Amtrak’s premium train offering only business-class and first-class accommodations. The train only travels between Boston and Washington, D.C., Amtrak’s busiest route. The extreme benefit is that instead of spending almost four hours getting to the airport, going through security, flying on a shuttle flight, deplaning, catching a cab and getting to your destination…you get the picture. It takes too long for such a short distance.
Acela Express gets travelers between these two destinations in the same amount of time, but with less hassle. Traveling at 135 mph, this modern, sleek, bullet train whisks passengers through the hustle and bustle of New York City, the picturesque New Jersey countryside (well some parts), the brotherly love of Philadelphia, down through Baltimore and terminating in the grandeur of our nation’s capital, Washington, D.C.
The media aboard our trip included
Black Enterprise,
El Diario/La Prensa,
Impacto Latin News,
Today’s Black Woman,
Globetrotter Jon Haggins and
The Network Journal. I’ve always wanted to do travel public relations and now I had the opportunity to do so with a media who doesn’t get the attention they deserve from businesses.
We arrived in Washington, D.C.’s Union Station within two hours and 45 minutes, stopping only four times. I was impressed at how fast the time had flown by. Maybe it was the conversations or possibly because I was working throughout the entire ride. I did find time though to look at the scenery passing by. Sometimes, right in the middle of conversations, I found myself entranced by the swiftly passing, but beautiful scenery through Pennsylvania, Delaware and Maryland. This is the part I enjoyed most about train rides. Instead of looking down on the world everything was eye level. I saw the snow melting on the ground. Ducks swimming in iced over rivers and ponds. Looking at life from above has a sterile quality, but on the ground level you still feel a part of something.
I digress in my pontification. After disembarking from the train, we went to lunch at B. Smith’s at Union Station. B. Smith was a former supermodel turned marketing guru with her restaurant chain, cookbooks, cooking shows and product endorsements. Her Washington restaurant was an impressive space occupying a former presidential reception room. The restaurant’s slogan is: “Southern cooking…New York style.” The menu was rife with Creole and Southern inspired dishes, and the service and attention to detail was definitely New York styled – prompt!
Our party of 10 was seated quickly thanks to advance reservations. Within moments our table was adorned with B. Smith’s famous corn muffins. I had to control my appetite as not to fill up on bread before my meal. The orders flowed. I ordered the crab and mushroom soup for an appetizer, the chicken parmesan fettuccine for my entrée and the Bourbon St. bread pudding for dessert. The conversations ensued with questions flying around about Amtrak,
Acela Express and Anna Nicole Smith’s death. Everyone was extremely comfortable as the first courses arrived. I’m a big fan of she-crab soup and mushrooms. The crab and mushroom soup I ordered had a hint of spice amongst the cream, pieces of crab and slivers of mushroom. If the soup was hotter, I probably would’ve enjoyed it more, but it was satisfactory. The chicken parmesan fettuccine arrived eliciting a big smile from me. I usually finish my plate, but I couldn’t make it past half the entrée. Not that it wasn’t appetizing; I just ate too many muffins. Dessert arrived and my stomach miraculously cleared. After four bites I had wolfed down a moist, buttery concoction of bread, milk, eggs, chocolate and rum. If the rest of a meal is satisfactory, but the dessert is exceptional, a restaurant gets an okay from me. My next trip to D.C. would include a stop at B. Smith’s at Union Station.
The last part of the media tour included a historical tour of Union Station and some downtime in the first-class lounge, Club Acela. I was impressed by the Greco-Roman inspired architecture of the station, but after almost eight hours of ushering media, my mind was more focused on sleep than on the tour, it was still enjoyable though. Around 6 p.m. we boarded our return train for another two hour and 45 minute ride. Most of the media were visibly tired, but satisfied with the trip. I have faith that their articles will turnout positive for Amtrak.
After saying goodbyes to everyone at Penn Station, I met up with an uncle of mine who runs a business out of Connecticut. He took me to this great Thai place called Regional Thai (208 7th Avenue at 22nd Street). He convinced me to try the doubled crusted flat spring rolls. It was spring roll dough stuffed with bean threads, shrimp, chicken and cilantro foot served with this apricot plum sauce that I almost tipped to my head to drink because it was that good. My appetite wasn’t as ravenous as I thought or it could’ve been that I was tired. I ordered the staple at any good Thai restaurant, roasted duck in red curry sauce. It was served with apricots and pineapples, and rested in a mixture of sweetened coconut milk and red curry sauce. It was some of the best duck I’ve ever had. After some light conversation about the lessons learned in marriage, what’s planned for our futures and what family really means, my uncle and I concluded dinner and he dropped me back at my hotel. I was completely exhausted, but in a good way. I had thoroughly mixed business and pleasure on this trip and I was content. All aboard for dreamland!
New York City, March 2007: Day 1, March 7, 2007 (Business or Pleasure…take your pick)
I had three days and two nights in New York City while on a media tour for my client, Amtrak. I was determined to not waste my time away in a hotel room while on a media fast. Luckily, I have family in town so it was no problem finding someone to share dinner with. I caught up with my cousin, Matthew, who I haven’t seen in quite some time. We talked about the usual, our significant others, family, jobs and plans for the future. It is funny how your “little” cousins grow up right before your eyes and you turn into peers.
Matthew decided to take me to the most typical of New York restaurants…T.G.I.Fridays at the corner of 8th Avenue and 33rd Streets, across from Madison Square Garden and Penn. Station. I wasn’t about to complain about eating at a chain restaurant, I was more concerned about spending quality time with my cousin. Plus, food is food. Two quesadillas, a dessert and $40 later, we were content with our meal and parted ways.
Before leaving a friend of mine told me not to wander around New York alone. I should pay more attention to the advice I’m given, but not this time. It was 7:30 p.m. when Matthew and I departed. I wanted to see a Broadway show while I was here. I researched times and prices for Spamalot playing at the Shubert Theatre. I didn’t have the exact address, but I remembered seeing it across the street from the St. James Theatre when I saw The Producers last year.
I marveled at the audacity of Times Square. No matter what time of the night, it was still as busy as daylight. Television screens, news banners, advertisements and music blared from every direction. So much for the media fast. I walked up 8th Avenue, past 42nd Street. I slowed down to peak around corners to look for the Shubert Theatre without getting run over by the crowds and looking like a lost tourist. I found the theatre on 45th Street and dashed to the box office with 15 minutes to spare.
I’ve never been the one for the best seats in the house and this time was no exception. I happily paid $36 for a balcony seat overlooking the stage. Even though I was able to see every machination of the backstage meant to be an illusion to the audience on the lower levels, I was still enthralled by seeing this Tony award-winning romp of a musical. Spamalot is based on Monty Python’s movie, The Quest for the Holy Grail, a cult classic for all lovers of British comedy. It started a little dry, but by the intermission I was laughing loudly and with little regard for the people next to me. The mere fact that the songs were rife with jabbing humor and a disregard to sensitivity had me hollering for more by the final curtain. I left satisfied, but starting to feel the unavoidable tiredness that comes with traveling for business.
I returned to my hotel, the Howard Johnson Midtown Manhattan (449 West 36th Street), to end this night in prayer and relaxation. By the way, at $99 per night in Midtown Manhattan, this hotel was a steal. It’s a little cramp, but with all I need is a king-sized bed, a hot shower and free internet and I’m golden.
