Le weekend: Le mini-break, part two

I promised I'd finish this entry, didn't I?

On the first day of mini-break, we headed to the famed Waldorf=Astoria, to see what all the fuss is about. It's a beautiful, if a bit tired, hotel, full of tourists (what isn't around here?), but we appreciated the glory and the grandeur. We met at a particularly old-school bar in the hotel, dropped our bags, and headed out to explore, and find much needed sustenance.

Heartbeat is located in the Lexington Avenue W hotel, and is the /creation/ of Rande Gerber (better known as Mr. Cindy Crawford). My first cocktail was a bit of a bust, but the second, an enormous goblet of perfectly blended sangria, was delightful. After a snack or two and much needed time to unwind, along with more people watching, we headed down the street to Django for real food. I'd happened to see it en route to the hotel, so in we went.

It turns out to be the location of Greek Tragedy's wedding (I'd just finished her book), and we had a fantastic meal, kicked off with a yummy cucumber vanilla martini (apologies, I couldn't find the recipe, but it includes fresh granny smith apple juice). Don't knock it til you've tried it, they're delish. As I recall, we ate blue fin tuna tartare and seared scallops, followed by bouillabaisse and a delightful shrimp tagine. I'll go back, perhaps before the theatre, as it's not far away, and I find Restaurant Row annoying.


We made our way back to the Waldorf, and thought we'd explore a little - there were signs throughout the lobby directing people to the Starlight Roof, so off we went, full of liquid courage. It was wide open and completely empty, so we danced.

You heard me. Didn't think I had all those shoes for nothing, did you?

Now, on a mini-break, it is traditional to sleep in, and laze about in ample bathrobes the following morning. And so we did.

Until they started testing the fire alarm. I kid you not.

Perhaps this is traditional on Fridays 'round 10:30, and it's not that anyone wants to stay in a room dating from 1931 with a fire alarm that doesn't work, but it does interfere with the delightful room service breakfast. And it went on, and on, and on. Past the point of funny. We negotiated with the hotel staff who wanted to assure themselves that we did, in fact, have emergency exit instructions on the inside of our door. We declined to let them in.

We were able to laugh again when we realized that we could have made the pedicure appointments at Bliss on 49th, instead of Bliss Soho, but we grabbed a cab and headed south. After a much needed pedi, we went home, repacked our bags, and headed to Roselle Park for 24 hours in Jersey. To the Shore!

OK, it's ALMOST finished ...


Part one