Celeste Fletcher McHale

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A country girl visits the Big Apple

First of all…it’s a DAMN Big Apple. We arrived…like idiots…in our big ass black suburban at 5 p.m., during the climax of rush hour traffic. I know…I know…great planning, huh? Anyway, somebody should’ve told me about these curious little buildings known as “toll booths”. Uh…I always TRIED to grab the ticket….but if I couldn’t grab the ticket…I went ahead and just hauled ass. Rumor has it, these people have cameras attached to their booths. Oopsy. Apparently, I’m about to get swamped with a few citations from the City of New York…or correction, my PARENTS are about to get swamped. It’s their big ass suburban. Oh, well…I have always lived by the creed it’s much easier to get forgiveness than it is to ask permission. Moving on…

So after we wind our way out of the Lincoln Tunnel (SO cool) through Times Square and Midtown Manhattan, we finally arrive at the Waldorf. Of course, we park in front only to be told by the most elegantly dressed doorman…to go to the side street and park in the garage. There we are met by the most dignified older black man in the crispiest bellman’s uniform I have ever seen. Now…I know our men down here in the South are supposed to be gentlemen, but this dude was the man! I started to get out of the vehicle and he rushed to open my door, held out his white gloved hand, and gently “led” me out to the red carpeted sidewalk. DAYUM. At my house, my daddy, my baby daddy, all my nephews and my preacher could be standing below me while I’m trying to get out of a tractor and one of them idiots would just holler “Jump!” I LOVED this man. I, of course, had on purple & gold, and we struck up a conversation about sports right away while the rest of my crew tapped their feet. I hated to leave him, but I gave him a 20 because he likes the Saints and proceeded to check in. (It woulda been a 5 bucks had he said anybody else!)

Once we were in the lobby of this glorious, historical, majestic marbled palace…it became pretty damn clear…we were sticking out like sore thumbs. LMAO. It’s a Monday night! Why do these people have on evening gowns and tuxedos??? My yoga pants and LSU jersey looked a little strange, as did the rest of my crew’s attire. But no matter…let them stare…we are in NEW YORK CITY!!! I’m owning this outfit, tapping my Nikes on the gozillion dollar rugs and saying “How’s it going?” to everybody I see. And every now and then I get a “Fine, thank you.” It’s a start!

So we get our keys and after the 45 minutes it takes us to realize you must insert your key inside the elevator to make it work, we excitedly ride up to the 7th floor to find our suite. And…we get lost, I mean, we are ON the seventh floor…but they musta hidden Suite 700M, cause it ain’t nowhere. Another bellman comes to our rescue and we see the bag dude from downstairs waiting at our door with 900 bags of luggage, our bags of junk food (like NYC ain’t got any) and our purple ice chest. Yeah, I took it…so what??? Don’t judge! Anyway, we get in our room, take pictures, explore the mini bar, look out the window, waller in the luxurious sheets, smell the little shampoos and lotions in the bathroom, try on the robes, play with the TV’s, study the room service menu and briefly jump on the bed before we set out to conquer the city.

Stay tuned. Tomorrow I will tell you about our first night in the city and my first experience with a food truck. OMG…

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