Final Trip : NYC & beyond

Tomorrow morning, I leave for my final big trip of the “year.” (I never thought I’d revert back to referring to the academic year as the “year,” but it’s happened. I suppose I could say “final big trip of the season,” to imply that my calendar follows the concert season, but really, that would just make it sound like I was trying to seem hoity-toity.)

The first stop on this trip is both for work and vacation: New York City. AEJ and I haven’t been back since we moved to LA in September. I’m excited to go, but I’m also a little worried that it’ll depress me at least a little. I love living in LA, but nothing is like NY, and this is the perfect time of year to be there. The weather will be beautiful. I almost wish we were going in mid-August when the humidity is oppressive. Ten minutes on a NYC subway platform in mid-August and I’d forget how great that city can be. But, we’ll be there when it’s lovely — 77 degrees and sunny.

We’ll arrive tomorrow afternoon, and Newman is going to pick us up at the airport, saving us the $50 cab ride. (Thanks again, Newm.) Tomorrow night — presumably dinner with Mr. & Mrs. Newm. Then on Thursday, things really get rolling. We don’t know what we’re doing in the early part of the day (which will be quite late in the day by the time we get up, thanks to the jet lag), but I’m planning to attend the ASCAP Concert Music Awards on Thursday evening. This is a huge annual schmooze-fest, and by chance, I’ll be in town for it, and it seems a shame not to go. I’d originally planned to drag AEJ, but the more I think about it, the more I think she’d be bored to tears, so that part is up in the air. After the ceremony and a few minutes of continued schmoozing at the reception, I’ll run across Lincoln Center to Alice Tully Hall for the premiere of Steve Bryant‘s orchestra version of “Alchemy in Silent Spaces,” performed by the Juilliard Orchestra and conducted by James DePriest. And THEN, as if the day won’t have been long enough, AEJ are heading to our food temple, Jean-Georges, for dinner. There’s no way to describe how amazing this restaurant is. I wrote about it when we went last year. It sucks to have to wear a suit to a restaurant, but for this place, I’d wear knickers. (This kind, not this kind. Perv.)

On Friday, AEJ and I are having lunch with her father, and then heading to John Corigliano’s place for a bit. Later that afternoon, we might check out some of choreographer Robert Battle’s rehearsal. (Robert is the choreographer with whom I collaborated on Juba, Damn, Breakdown Tango, Mass, Rush Hour, and other pieces. He’s also a dangerously entertaining drink buddy.) Then on Friday night, we have reservations for dinner at a great place called Artisanal. Fondue, here we come.

Sadly, AEJ leaves first-thing on Saturday morning. She’s heading to St. Croix for a family vacation, but I’ll be sticking around Manhattan for a few more days — the “work” part of the trip. I’m working with H. Robert Reynolds and the National Wind Ensemble, preparing for their performance of “Redline Tango” at Carnegie Hall on Memorial Day. I’ll rehearse with the group on Saturday and Sunday, then a little at the dress rehearsal on Monday, and the concert is Monday night at 8pm.

On Tuesday, I leave New York to join AEJ on that family vacation in St. Croix. I don’t do well in the sun (have you seen how pasty I am?), and I can’t swim (maybe I’ll write a piece about my fear of drowning), so my potential activities in St. Croix might be limited. It’ll be great to spend a few days in the Virgin Islands with AEJ and her family, though. And you can bet that there will be a whole lot of pictures — both from there, and from those fancy NY dinners.

Comments

Daniel Montoya, Jr. says

Whenever I wear a suit to a restaraunt, I feel like a member of Ocean's 11... or to a lesser extent, Ocean's 12.

Kevin Howlett says

Whenever you mention Jean-Georges, I always think of David Cross' rant on the place and how their gold-foil topped chocolate dessert was the ultimate "F you" to poor people. But that's just me.

And for the record, I couldn't swim until about four years after I joined the Navy. I'm also very pasty.

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