Anything Lime



I love New York City. Oh yeah. New York City.

This weekend I saw the Statue of Liberty for the first time as my plane descended toward LaGuardia. Patrick and I had flown out for his brother, Andrew’s, wedding. It was a good opportunity for me to meet Patrick’s extended family and dance so hard my feet swelled up. I walked …er limped out of there with Fred Flinstone’s feet dangling from my ankles. My feet eventually fell off and now I’m forever confined to a chair. Lucky for me I took a few practice walks down Cherie’s aisle before the ceremony started, so I got that out of the way.

The ceremony was beautiful, and we were able to look closely at all the tiny details that went into making it magnificent. I looked around at the draping on the walls, the wide array of decorative pillows and matching seat cushions and could only imagine the many months of preparation that Andrew and Cherie the wedding planner had to endure.I was, as with every time I’ve ever found myself in NYC, overwhelmed. The noises, the smells, the constant sense of business, it’s all way too hurried to deal with on a regular basis. Lucky for me, I was a tourist, so stopping to take photos on the sidewalk, like this one: NYC on foot

…is perfectly acceptable. And by “perfectly acceptable,” what I mean is “possible if you act quickly before an angry New Yorker has time to spit in your face.” We roamed around the streets in between rehearsal dinners and brunches and other wedding activities, and it was just what we needed to get the most out of our New York vacation. Patrick ate about 16 hot dogs from street vendors, so it’s probably good we left when we did.

We stayed in a beautiful room at the Flatotel, where we enjoyed days of stunning views. And the people of New York did the same, I’m sure, as one of the many large windows in our room was in our shower. I kept fighting the urge to throw my hands up and shout “SPRING BREAK!” Which would, in reality, be much less fun than I’d planned. Because New Yorkers are probably used to this. And because no one else was around. And because no one else laughs at my jokes.

One theme of the weekend was “Undo Whitney’s calorie-limiting eating plan,” which entailed eating meal after meal after meal. I have to admit, though, that things do taste better in New York. Some people would think that grilled cheese, French fries and a chocolate shake couldn’t be vastly better than any diner across America. SOME PEOPLE WOULD BE DEAD WRONG.

The rehearsal dinner began almost forty minutes late, as all the guests were engaging in another theme of the wedding weekend which was, “Wait hours until the bride and groom arrive, however long after said time that might be.” Even if that means not starting your rehearsal dinner on time. Even if it means not having a rehearsal.

It’s easy to get caught up in the glam life New York. The whole lifestyle is wrapped in this cloak that’s three parts fashionista, nine parts confidence and two parts bravery. People throw one two random things they own, put a pair of leggings underneath it, carry a designer bag and spike their hair out in all directions. The trick, I’ve found, is to OWN IT! Even I got swept up in this, looking at Patrick wearing two different shoes going, “I can totally rock this.”

The view from our hotel room could hardly compete with the view from Andrew and Cherie’s 39th floor apartment in Manhattan. Out one side of the corner apartment you can see the Chrysler Building, the Empire State Building and out the other side of the room you can see the Statue of Liberty far off in the distance. I was in awe. What a magnificent city. And after days of hailing cabs and having heart attacks watching guys clean the windows of skyscrapers, I was both relieved and sad to leave.

One thing’s for sure though, I definitely plan to go back to Santos’ Party House, where the dancing never stops.

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