Tuesday 1.23 Day Uno

Even though I was tired from visiting Atlanta, I waited many hours for my dad in La Guardia. But, it was worth it.

Bus #60 took us from the airport to Harlem. Where is the subway? To the left but hurry! Alas, we did not hurry enough.

The platform was a good place to organize our luggage. Dad was nice enough to load one of my bags on his Burton. Thank goodness for bungie cords. We didn't have as much freight as in Paris mais we survived and eventually checked in at the Shelburne Murray Hill. Hello Dennis (our doorman)! Here is your tip.

Our baggage disappeared and we sullied the registration. Soon our bags appeared and their contents found a home.

After having only water and grapes the entire day, I asked dad, "How about Indian?"

We asked for directions from our bellboy and he replied, "Oh, you know, down on this street and that street. I really don't know. I'm not from here. You might want to ask the girls."

He left for upstate and we left to find some nan bread.

But first, some Portuguese coffee! It was made carefully by illegal Mexicans, even though dad thought they were Portuguese. It only proved to be funny when dad started talking to them IN Portuguese...the barista looked very confused.

Onto a suitable Indian restaurant, or at least one which was open and displayed Christmas legos in its windows.

"This food is very very healthy. Try some of our mango drink!" said our fourth waiter.

On our way back to the hotel, we counted 5 Starbucks and 3 doggie outfits.

We went back to the hotel so I could blog for awhile. I had started withdrawal and there was only one cure.

Bad cable in the room urged us outdoors for some late night desserting. Murray Hill Diner was close and offered food and an imminent closing. Pies were...okay. Apple for me and lemon meringue memories for dad. Oh well.

Later that night I caught up on my blog.