NY Day 5: Brooklyn Bag Lady

Taking advantage of this step in my professional writing career by jet-setting on a lavish vacation I certainly cannot afford. Stay tuned for every inevitable fumble, wrong turn, and overpriced meal as LAUREN TAKES NEW YORK!

(It's all fun and games until you forget your hat in the rain)

The weather forecast struck again, catching another innocent victim unawares. Yesterday, it was Kerra's curled hair and Timb's seeking cover from the harsh beating of rain. This time that victim was me, my hair, and my Italian blue suede shoes.

Really, the whole day was like a page torn out of A Series of Unfortunate Events. Thank God we're hilarious, or we'd probably still be crying somewhere beneath the Brooklyn Bridge. I'd thought Kerra was joking the other day when she said New York was "nothing but a closed door to us," but turns out she was only halfway there -- nothing but closed doors, shut restaurants, and a whole lot of rain.

The morning started off fine enough. We left the house intending to grab Puerto Rican food, but passed by a French Bistro five minutes out and decided our feet hurt and this was good enough. The place, Maison Harlem, was delicious, and the servers were nice, in spite of our many questions regarding Puerto Rican cuisine nearby. The man who helped us was from Brooklyn, and said we could find what we were looking for there. We thought it'd be the perfect opportunity to grab some good food and walk the Brooklyn Bridge. We thanked them and strolled out, sealing our fate as the door shut against a wafting smell of truffle.

I realized my mistake the second we exited the subway. This time around, the rain exchanged drizzle for droplets. Thick splatters of water plunked like dimes on cement. Kerra, who'd wised up the day before, pulled up her hood. Turn's out I wasn't so clever. After a few turn arounds, I reached the Brooklyn Bridge looking every part the drowned rat.

Now here's the thing about the Brooklyn Bridge. Considering it's, you know, a bridge, it sits closer to the sky than a street. Also, it's main concern is drivers passing through, not tourists looking for a photo op. What I'm saying is there is no protection from the rain for a girl who forgot her hat. I followed Kerra without looking up, both to shield my face and mourn my shoes-- Italian Blue Suede that I should have worn on literally any other day. Next to me, Kerra thanked her good fortune.

"Imagine if I'd worn my Timb's? That would've been horrible!"

I stopped calculating how suede fairs after dunking in water to look at her, but the moment was short lived. Off in the distance there were stairs leading below the overpass. I broke into a run, Kerra's confusion led to shouts as she followed me.

"Wait, we're running? What's happening! Why!"

We made it below to yet another street vendor. I considered asking to buy the hat off his head, but settled for a plastic bag, cutting a hole in the front to breathe. The vendor started telling Kerra she looks like this celebrity in Egypt and wanted a picture. As I was still seeking shelter, I stepped away to get reception. While I shivered, some dude passed and, dead serious, looked at me exclaiming, "Wow, you're gorgeous. So beautiful." Meanwhile, I'm legit wearing a bag over my head.

Kerra returned from signing autographs and we ran for the first coffee shop we could find. Inside, I immediately asked if anyone knew of somewhere I could find a hat. The barista, a dude who'd spent his afternoon inside while wearing a beanie, promptly replied, "ha, um a hat shop?" Original. I settled for a latte. Luckily, Beanie Guy's coworker made our drinks, and she was fantastic. She told us the best Puerto Rican food is in Manhattan, and to take F train two blocks down for the place she swore by. After an hour's procrastination, we braved the elements, subway, and four minute walk that was actually sixteen to our destination-- only to get there and find the authentic Puerto Rican restaurant was CLOSED BY THE HEALTH DEPARTMENT. The owner was there and clearly distraught. We attempted to sympathize, but within minutes the newspaper I was wearing as cover soaked through.

At that point we were so hungry and downtrodden we didn't care anymore, so we abandoned the dream for Puerto Rican cuisine and got overpriced soup at this German restaurant down the street. The rain taunted us from the window as we held our bowls to warm our numb finger tips. After, we trudged through in search of the subway station, this time with only one intention: to get home. We sang to make ourselves feel better, only stopping to figure out directions. Now, back and layered up by blankets, I've a deep longing for hot cocoa and someone's fireside, but I'll settle for pressing my frozen toes against the water heater. If there was a silver lining in this downtrodden day, it's that, through all of the rain soaked madness, we couldn't stop laughing. Even if half of our humor was mixed with hysteria, I know this is a day I'm going to remember for a very long time.

Regardless, something tells me we won't be heading back toward Brooklyn tomorrow, if we get the guts to make it outside at all.

#travelblog #travelseries #travelpost #NYDay5 #newyork