NY12 Day 4 You just Never Know Day

Weather forecast? Partial sun in morning, clouds, then rain. I’m sure that’s how the day would be. Totally.

We had only one planned event. For The-Youngest, his graduation present – a meal at the perfect NY steak house (and by ‘perfect,’ I mean expensive). He’d done his research, found a great place not far from the theater district and we’d booked a table. The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World wanted to order a heart attack kit ahead of time in case I had a coronary when I saw the bill.

However, that was an evening event so we could rest up and recover a bit during the morning and afternoon.

Which, of course, we didn’t do.

No, not us.

I got up early and walked to one of the best bagel shops (bakeries?) in NYC. There was a line because, you know, it was one of the best, but that was ok. A line-up says to me that’s a good place to stuff your face.

It was a small shop, with neon green walls, a spooky, black ceiling and very well-behaved people in line. It had a doughy smell to it, not a cool, bread smell, but something thicker, with just a hint of cinnamon in the air.

I brought back 6 bagels and stored them as we had been taught by our cousin. In a paper bag.

Led by the enthusiasm of The-Youngest, the rest of the family got up early, showered again, and rushed out to see if we could get Outsider tickets (the hottest musical on Broadway at the moment). The-Youngest was super keen to see that musical for some strange reason. Maybe it was because he’d read the book or maybe he just wanted to see teenagers coming of age and singing about it. I dunno.

Now, it was ‘sold out,’ but we heard from the Movie and TV locations tour guide that we could line-up early and see if there were any seats. Cheap seats. Student seats. The idea was to get tickets for The-Youngest and The-Oldest while The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World and I would find a bar and drink and drink and drink until one of us got up on our table and started dancing… err, I mean, we’d wait patiently in a nice location until the musical was done.

We got there about 9:30 for the ticket release at 10 but there was already a huge line-up of keeners and people who knew how these things worked. However, we didn’t give up. You just never know what’s going to happen.

Spoiler alert, we didn’t get tickets. Not even standing tickets. Not even ‘under the floor in the basement by the boiler’ tickets.

We should have been there earlier. A lot earlier.

A disaster? A waste of time?

Not if you believe in fate.

Because while we waited in line, we met (and actually talked to) a Broadway star performer who was in town for a few days and wanted to see a few musicals. His name – Nick Rished Burroughs.

He played Ike Turner in Tina. He was also in King Kong and in Kinky Boots the Musical and was currently on a break from playing Toulouse-Lautrec in Moulin Rouge the Musical on tour! He told us of how he got started in Alabama and how he loved to sing and how he got picked up from there, not from NY or anything.

I hadn’t heard him sing (but here’s a link) but personality-wise, he was one of those people who just shone. I don’t shine. I wish I did. I’m more like a black hole that sucks in all light and happiness and destroys it.

What a great time we had chatting with him. It was just the type of experience you can’t get while sitting on the couch at home, watching YouTube videos on why The Acolyte is the worst show of all time.

It made The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World so happy, though she went all shy and goofy when I asked if we could take a picture together. “Sorry, excuse me, but before you go, could we please get a picture?”

Honestly, The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World is so adorable. When we met the Fonz at a car show years ago, she was like a three-year-old seeing someone twenty feet tall.

I didn’t think we were going to beat that moment (but boy was I as wrong as the weather channel that constantly predicted rain). It totally made up for not getting tickets.

However, after we failed to get tickets, we needed food. It was about 11:30. In NYC, at least in this part of NYC, there are a billion choices. We thought, hey, why not Italian? The-Oldest loves Italian and we needed to make sure he was having a bit of fun, too. He had spent most of the morning looking like a sad puppy being taken to the vet to have his testicles removed.

The restaurant wasn’t far and as we stood on a corner waiting to cross the street, a woman came up to us. “Looking for a place to eat?” She asked.

“No thanks,” we said. I mean, hey, there was always someone on the street wanting to sell us something. Bus tours. Broadway tickets. Passwords to secret sex dungeons.

“Sorry,” I added. (Remember we are Canadians and can’t have a conversation without apologizing at some point), and we turned away from her, waiting for the walk signal.

“It’s just across the street,” she said. “It’s a nice bar with great food and a live jazz band.”

The-Oldest straightened up like someone had poked him in the bum. “Jazz? Live?”

How could we not go?