I didn’t even remember hitting the pillow Friday night, our first night in New York.  It was about 8AM when I got up.  The kids were pretty much dead to the world.  I snuck downstairs to the hotel’s bar for breakfast.  I enjoyed a honest-to-gawd New York bagel and a cup of coffee and made paperdolls with the Times.  The hotel was crawling with Germans, enjoying the lopsided exchange rate to party like it was 1940.  I had a lot of fun practicing mein Deutsch.

It was going to be the last quiet moment of the day.

My kids, Bun and Zam, were both in their brother’s wedding party (their brother, Will, is their mother’s son from her first marriage). Which meant that there wasn’t much time to waste.

9AM; try to wake Bun up for her noon get-together with the bridesmaids, then a quick subway ride to 51st Street to find Zam a shirt. Back to the hotel to get Bun going (via subway and a quick cab ride) to their hotel, by the UN on 44th Street, after physically rolling Zam out of bed and hauling him to the shower so he could make his 1PM meeting with the groomsmen. Then back to the hotel to pick him up, off on the subway (not without an argument; he was a little nervous about riding the train, and wanted to take the cab everywhere) to Grand Central and another fast cab jaunt to the other hotel, almost on time (to an amazing suite overlooking the East River and Brooklyn, stuffed with pizza and beer and other bachelor-party necessities that Zam was perfectly happy to eat albeit not welcome to drink). Then back to the hotel for a quick shower and a change into my own suit, and back on the train up to 103rd.

Not sure what to say about the wedding. I’ve never been a huge fan of weddings. But it was lovely. Will is a fun, sharp, creative guy, and he’s marrying married to a girl he’s known since high school who’s the scion…scionette?…scienne?…anyway, the youngest member of a family that’s heavily involved in theatre in New York and the Twin Cities. So the wedding was wonderfully paced, tastefully staged, and left everyone, myself included, feeling just really, really nice about the whole thing. I don’t know which of the two is luckier, for the record.

Here’s the groom’s party:

No, I’m not gonna tell you who’s who. Flash knows, but he’s gonna keep mum. Aren’t you, Flash?

And, although I have about a hundred lovely pictures of the ceremony itself, I’m also going to refrain from posting them.

Anyway – the wedding was lovely. Perfect, indeed. Even the weather cooperated; you could see a cloud front rolling in from north Jersey as we left the park.

Then it was off to the reception, at a 12th-floor penthouse restaurant with a rooftop deck, two blocks north of the Empire State building, the view of which I regrettably have no pictures. Take my word for it – it was stunning. When in New York and needing to book a party, two words for ya – “Gary’s Loft”. That is all.

Then home with the kids, and off to the after-party, at a bar on 36th Street. Had a long talk with my stepson and his new wife – of both of whom I’m immensely proud, and for both of whom I’m boundlessly happy.

It was just starting to piddle a cold, windy rain as I walked home down Park Avenue. Walking in New York is always feast or famine; going east or west is humbling in the face of blocks that stretch for half a mile (at least in Midtown), but going north or south is an ego boost; zipping down from 36th to 28th was a couple minutes’ work.

I flopped into bed – the kids, unexpectedly, were out cold – and slept, again, like a log.

This entry was posted by by Mitch Berg on Friday, May 2nd, 2008 at 7:05 am and is filed under mitch. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.