Having parked our bikes, Stewbert and I met up with my sister and Chris, and headed downtown for food. There is something so iconic about New York City, such a sensory overload, that I found myself craning my neck up toward the skyscrapers, giddy with excitement for having actually made it.
Our first stop for the evening was a German Brauhaus but, had we not felt like German cuisine we could have easily "settled" for Indonesian, Cuban, Australian, contemporary American, African, South American, not to mention the ever-present sushi bars, just to name a few.
This being my second visit to New York City, there are two things that stand out in my mind. First, the authenticity of the place - I rested my arms on a table that was deeply scarred, pitted, and certainly OLD. How many other people have rested their arms here?
Second, despite it's intimidating size and initial overload, New York City is an incredibly easy, clean, and friendly city to navigate. Stewbert and I sat on a subway, and I watched as a well-dressed businesswomen stood up to exit the car. She dropped her bag, which was kindly picked up by a large, rough, tattooed individual seated next to her. A pleasant "there you go, miss" followed by "thank you" typified the type of hospitality that defines this city.
On our night of arrival, Chris suggested that we make one last stop for the night. At around 2:30 a.m. we stepped into a diner to get a late meal. He insisted on ordering "Disco-Fries"; a platter of French fries drizzled with gravy and melted mozzarella - a literal cauldron of grease. We happily dove in as Chris remarked, "Dude - Disco-Fries are so good, you order Disco-Fries in Jersey, it's like a party."
- Dan Wegmueller writes a weekly column for the Times, and an annual journal from his summer motorcycle trip. He can be reached at dwegs@tds.net.
Our first stop for the evening was a German Brauhaus but, had we not felt like German cuisine we could have easily "settled" for Indonesian, Cuban, Australian, contemporary American, African, South American, not to mention the ever-present sushi bars, just to name a few.
This being my second visit to New York City, there are two things that stand out in my mind. First, the authenticity of the place - I rested my arms on a table that was deeply scarred, pitted, and certainly OLD. How many other people have rested their arms here?
Second, despite it's intimidating size and initial overload, New York City is an incredibly easy, clean, and friendly city to navigate. Stewbert and I sat on a subway, and I watched as a well-dressed businesswomen stood up to exit the car. She dropped her bag, which was kindly picked up by a large, rough, tattooed individual seated next to her. A pleasant "there you go, miss" followed by "thank you" typified the type of hospitality that defines this city.
On our night of arrival, Chris suggested that we make one last stop for the night. At around 2:30 a.m. we stepped into a diner to get a late meal. He insisted on ordering "Disco-Fries"; a platter of French fries drizzled with gravy and melted mozzarella - a literal cauldron of grease. We happily dove in as Chris remarked, "Dude - Disco-Fries are so good, you order Disco-Fries in Jersey, it's like a party."
- Dan Wegmueller writes a weekly column for the Times, and an annual journal from his summer motorcycle trip. He can be reached at dwegs@tds.net.