Take A Walk On The Wild Side
Hello World,
Beware the Ides of September! Actually, nobody said that, and as a warning to Julius Caesar, it would have been about six months too late. But here we are on September 15, believe that or don't, which only goes to show how the year is just charging along like a runaway freight train and no end in sight. Once Labor Day is over, all bets are off, and you'd better not blink, or else. Last weekend, we took advantage of the beautiful weather and set off on some wild and woolly adventures, and from which we lived to tell the tale, wild and woolly tails notwithstanding. This worked a lot better than the weekend before, when the weather would not have been conducive to our plans at all, and we would have found ourselves in the same predicament as other people with plans for Labor Day weekend. But we lucked out and could not have asked for two nicer days, in a year that has been notably deficient in nice weekends as a whole.
It all began innocently enough when our four friends from the Albany area came down for a visit with the intention of going to the Bronx Zoo, where none of us had been in the last 20 years or so. We met for brunch at the diner, although in retrospect, it probably would have been more circumspect for all six of us to get together at some place that we would never have to show our faces again, rather than the diner that Bill and I go to every Friday. Overall, we didn't behave as badly as we sometimes do, although I did notice that the hostess was posting our names on a bulletin board in the lobby, along with drawings by the sketch artist they had called in. Honestly, you'd think no one had ever seen six people play "Lady of Spain" with their armpits before.
After that, we drove around the local haunts a bit to show off some new developments that had happened since their last visit to our shores, including Trump Tower, Huguenot Hill and Avalon Bay all under construction in our fair city. They were suitably impressed, although perhaps outraged would be the better word under the circumstances. Then we synchronized our walkie-talkies and headed for the Bronx Zoo, making it there on the first shot and without getting lost, which is a notable achievement for our group. It was such a beautiful day, and mobs of people decided to join us in enjoying it at the Zoo, where luckily, it was shady enough all around that the heat wasn't oppressive. We discovered that the Bronx Zoo, along with other municipal attractions such as the Central Park Zoo and New York Aquarium, are operating under the administration of the Wildlife Conservation Society, and their dedication in protecting and husbanding the animals is to be commended. Why don't you just go ahead and visit their web site at www.wcs.org and see for yourself. They certainly have done a heck of a job in the Bronx, where a lot has changed in the last twenty years since any of us had been there.
For anyone who considers going to the zoo to be just a walk in the park, let me say that the Bronx Zoo is 265 acres of bumpy terrain, and feels every bit of it, especially when you rent one of the Zoo's broken wheelchairs for one of your mobility-challenged friends, and have to push him around up hill and down dale all day. This quickly loses whatever appeal it might have had, which I can assure you was little enough to start with, and makes for a very long and arduous day. Because the park is bigger than we remembered, and the exhibits are farther apart than we realized, and some of them with long lines, we did not have a chance to see everything that we might have wanted, and in fact, later in the day we split up to give everyone a chance to see what they wanted most. Bill and I wasted no time in hopping aboard the Skyfari, the cable cars that glide gently and peacefully over the park, and provide a panoramic view and a sense of solitude that is not to be missed. Unlike amusement parks, where they turn the lights on and let you enjoy their attractions all night, the Zoo closes up shop at 5:30 PM, and you'd better get out while the getting is good. In fact, you can't help but notice if you're on the last tram going to the parking lots at that time, that the animals who have been hiding at the back of their enclosures all day, are suddenly all lined up in front at the fences, and eyeing you eagerly as you go by like tasty treats on a tea trolley. We decided when it was feeding time at the zoo, that was our cue to skidoo, and we ran out of there with our coat-tails flying behind us, broken wheelchair or no.
However, I can't leave the Bronx Zoo without telling Bill's favorite story of the day. We all wanted to take the monorail ride through the Wild Asia exhibit, so we headed off in that direction, although we heard people complaining that it was an hour wait on line. We were all standing very patiently on line, and even behaving fairly well for us, when our mobility-challenged friend decided to stand up and stretch his legs for a while. Rather than push an empty wheelchair in line with us, we invited one of our other friends to take the opportunity to sit in the wheelchair, and have a little bit of a rest from standing, so she took us up on the offer and sat down. Frankly, she was a lot easier to push around than the person we got the chair for, so we were in no hurry to chase her. It was during this period that we came to the attention of the ride operators, who hurried us through to the front of the line, cutting off everyone behind us who had been waiting in the wilting heat all that time, and making us about as unpopular as Moslem terrorists at a baby shower. The helpful park staff was particularly solicitous of our friend in the wheelchair, no doubt infuriating the people directly behind us, who knew that she wasn't the person we had gotten the wheelchair for in the first place, and undoubtedly feeling that we were getting preferential treatment under false pretenses, and who could blame them. As a matter of fact, our guilty consciences were feeling the same way, but after a long hard day of standing on lines, we were just as happy to see that gift horse when it showed up.
After leaving the zoo, our next stop was at the beautiful Renaissance Hotel which considers itself in White Plains, but is actually along Route 287 out in the wilds of nowhere, and believe me, I know nowhere when I see it. Our friends had reserved rooms to stay overnight, and we decided to join them in a mini-vacation of our own, even though we were only 30 minutes from home. I think I can say without fear of contradiction, that we have stayed at more expensive places and less expensive places, but this was probably the nicest hotel we have ever stayed at in our whole lives. It was quiet, plush and comfortable, while the staff was friendly, helpful and attentive. We were loath to hit the road again and try to scrounge up dinner for six hungry sojourners, but we were afraid to take our chances with hotel food, having been burned before. We checked out the menu of the pub in the lobby and decided to give it a try, and were we ever glad that we did. It turned out to be a wonderful meal in a delightful room with impeccable service, and we could not have had a lovelier time. It's true that we cleared the room, as the six of us always do, but at least they didn't call in the sketch artists and post our names at the door, like they did at the diner.
Everyone who says that they can't sleep in a strange place should take the Renaissance Hotel challenge, and see if they don't have the best sleep of their lives there. It's phenomenal, and worth the price of the room just for that alone. In the morning, we reconnoitered in various groupings to avail ourselves of the diverse amenities, such as the indoor pool, Jacuzzi, spa, gym or hiking trails on the premises. A continental breakfast was included in our room rate, so we finished up there, and it turned out to be a spread of lavish indulgence that can only be described by saying that it was indescribable. We hated to check out, because we figured that stepping out into the real world would be like waking up from a wonderful dream.
Our plans for the morning included getting a jump on the season at the Trim-A-Tree department in Fortunoff's, and pulling in at the train store across the tracks, but we struck out on both counts. The Christmas displays were just beginning to be assembled at Fortunoff's, so there was not much to see there, and the management at the train store decided to stay closed on Sundays for whatever reason. We ambled around for a bit, but our hearts were not in it, and as it was becoming late and our friends wanted to get on the road, we had no choice but to bid our fond farewells and go our separate ways. Years ago, when Bill and I would go away overnight, our cats would assume that we had been taken over by pods from the Cat Hating Planet, who didn't care if they starved, and they greeted our return with enthusiasm, if only for the food. The cats that we have now seem not to notice if we're there or not, and so when we return from being away, they give us a "Do I know you?" kind of look that is humbling in its bored indifference. Oh well, it was fun while it lasted, and at least they didn't look at us as a meal on the hoof, like the last tram out of the zoo at feeding time. Garcon, let's have some Worcestershire sauce with these tourists, if you please!
Beware the Ides of September! Actually, nobody said that, and as a warning to Julius Caesar, it would have been about six months too late. But here we are on September 15, believe that or don't, which only goes to show how the year is just charging along like a runaway freight train and no end in sight. Once Labor Day is over, all bets are off, and you'd better not blink, or else. Last weekend, we took advantage of the beautiful weather and set off on some wild and woolly adventures, and from which we lived to tell the tale, wild and woolly tails notwithstanding. This worked a lot better than the weekend before, when the weather would not have been conducive to our plans at all, and we would have found ourselves in the same predicament as other people with plans for Labor Day weekend. But we lucked out and could not have asked for two nicer days, in a year that has been notably deficient in nice weekends as a whole.
It all began innocently enough when our four friends from the Albany area came down for a visit with the intention of going to the Bronx Zoo, where none of us had been in the last 20 years or so. We met for brunch at the diner, although in retrospect, it probably would have been more circumspect for all six of us to get together at some place that we would never have to show our faces again, rather than the diner that Bill and I go to every Friday. Overall, we didn't behave as badly as we sometimes do, although I did notice that the hostess was posting our names on a bulletin board in the lobby, along with drawings by the sketch artist they had called in. Honestly, you'd think no one had ever seen six people play "Lady of Spain" with their armpits before.
After that, we drove around the local haunts a bit to show off some new developments that had happened since their last visit to our shores, including Trump Tower, Huguenot Hill and Avalon Bay all under construction in our fair city. They were suitably impressed, although perhaps outraged would be the better word under the circumstances. Then we synchronized our walkie-talkies and headed for the Bronx Zoo, making it there on the first shot and without getting lost, which is a notable achievement for our group. It was such a beautiful day, and mobs of people decided to join us in enjoying it at the Zoo, where luckily, it was shady enough all around that the heat wasn't oppressive. We discovered that the Bronx Zoo, along with other municipal attractions such as the Central Park Zoo and New York Aquarium, are operating under the administration of the Wildlife Conservation Society, and their dedication in protecting and husbanding the animals is to be commended. Why don't you just go ahead and visit their web site at www.wcs.org and see for yourself. They certainly have done a heck of a job in the Bronx, where a lot has changed in the last twenty years since any of us had been there.
For anyone who considers going to the zoo to be just a walk in the park, let me say that the Bronx Zoo is 265 acres of bumpy terrain, and feels every bit of it, especially when you rent one of the Zoo's broken wheelchairs for one of your mobility-challenged friends, and have to push him around up hill and down dale all day. This quickly loses whatever appeal it might have had, which I can assure you was little enough to start with, and makes for a very long and arduous day. Because the park is bigger than we remembered, and the exhibits are farther apart than we realized, and some of them with long lines, we did not have a chance to see everything that we might have wanted, and in fact, later in the day we split up to give everyone a chance to see what they wanted most. Bill and I wasted no time in hopping aboard the Skyfari, the cable cars that glide gently and peacefully over the park, and provide a panoramic view and a sense of solitude that is not to be missed. Unlike amusement parks, where they turn the lights on and let you enjoy their attractions all night, the Zoo closes up shop at 5:30 PM, and you'd better get out while the getting is good. In fact, you can't help but notice if you're on the last tram going to the parking lots at that time, that the animals who have been hiding at the back of their enclosures all day, are suddenly all lined up in front at the fences, and eyeing you eagerly as you go by like tasty treats on a tea trolley. We decided when it was feeding time at the zoo, that was our cue to skidoo, and we ran out of there with our coat-tails flying behind us, broken wheelchair or no.
However, I can't leave the Bronx Zoo without telling Bill's favorite story of the day. We all wanted to take the monorail ride through the Wild Asia exhibit, so we headed off in that direction, although we heard people complaining that it was an hour wait on line. We were all standing very patiently on line, and even behaving fairly well for us, when our mobility-challenged friend decided to stand up and stretch his legs for a while. Rather than push an empty wheelchair in line with us, we invited one of our other friends to take the opportunity to sit in the wheelchair, and have a little bit of a rest from standing, so she took us up on the offer and sat down. Frankly, she was a lot easier to push around than the person we got the chair for, so we were in no hurry to chase her. It was during this period that we came to the attention of the ride operators, who hurried us through to the front of the line, cutting off everyone behind us who had been waiting in the wilting heat all that time, and making us about as unpopular as Moslem terrorists at a baby shower. The helpful park staff was particularly solicitous of our friend in the wheelchair, no doubt infuriating the people directly behind us, who knew that she wasn't the person we had gotten the wheelchair for in the first place, and undoubtedly feeling that we were getting preferential treatment under false pretenses, and who could blame them. As a matter of fact, our guilty consciences were feeling the same way, but after a long hard day of standing on lines, we were just as happy to see that gift horse when it showed up.
After leaving the zoo, our next stop was at the beautiful Renaissance Hotel which considers itself in White Plains, but is actually along Route 287 out in the wilds of nowhere, and believe me, I know nowhere when I see it. Our friends had reserved rooms to stay overnight, and we decided to join them in a mini-vacation of our own, even though we were only 30 minutes from home. I think I can say without fear of contradiction, that we have stayed at more expensive places and less expensive places, but this was probably the nicest hotel we have ever stayed at in our whole lives. It was quiet, plush and comfortable, while the staff was friendly, helpful and attentive. We were loath to hit the road again and try to scrounge up dinner for six hungry sojourners, but we were afraid to take our chances with hotel food, having been burned before. We checked out the menu of the pub in the lobby and decided to give it a try, and were we ever glad that we did. It turned out to be a wonderful meal in a delightful room with impeccable service, and we could not have had a lovelier time. It's true that we cleared the room, as the six of us always do, but at least they didn't call in the sketch artists and post our names at the door, like they did at the diner.
Everyone who says that they can't sleep in a strange place should take the Renaissance Hotel challenge, and see if they don't have the best sleep of their lives there. It's phenomenal, and worth the price of the room just for that alone. In the morning, we reconnoitered in various groupings to avail ourselves of the diverse amenities, such as the indoor pool, Jacuzzi, spa, gym or hiking trails on the premises. A continental breakfast was included in our room rate, so we finished up there, and it turned out to be a spread of lavish indulgence that can only be described by saying that it was indescribable. We hated to check out, because we figured that stepping out into the real world would be like waking up from a wonderful dream.
Our plans for the morning included getting a jump on the season at the Trim-A-Tree department in Fortunoff's, and pulling in at the train store across the tracks, but we struck out on both counts. The Christmas displays were just beginning to be assembled at Fortunoff's, so there was not much to see there, and the management at the train store decided to stay closed on Sundays for whatever reason. We ambled around for a bit, but our hearts were not in it, and as it was becoming late and our friends wanted to get on the road, we had no choice but to bid our fond farewells and go our separate ways. Years ago, when Bill and I would go away overnight, our cats would assume that we had been taken over by pods from the Cat Hating Planet, who didn't care if they starved, and they greeted our return with enthusiasm, if only for the food. The cats that we have now seem not to notice if we're there or not, and so when we return from being away, they give us a "Do I know you?" kind of look that is humbling in its bored indifference. Oh well, it was fun while it lasted, and at least they didn't look at us as a meal on the hoof, like the last tram out of the zoo at feeding time. Garcon, let's have some Worcestershire sauce with these tourists, if you please!
posted by El Tango Fandango @ 12:52 PM
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