"It's vacation; let's take a cab."

Sometimes it just feels like I’m playing grown-up. Okay, most of the time it does. And sometimes, believe it or not, I forget that I’m living in New York City.

Obviously, I’m constantly reminded of the fact that I’m here by the honking cabs, the busy streets, the towering skyscrapers. It’s not that I forget where I am, it’s just that I forget how unusual it is for a girl like me to be in a place like this. Sometimes things feel way too normal, far more mundane and everyday than they should. Of course, then something distinctly New York and utterly inimitable happens, and I’m swiftly snapped back into this surreality. (Yes, I just made up a word. Deal with it.)

This weekend was spent oscillating between those two ideas. I am pretty sure this isn’t the first time I’ve talked about oscillating. I oscillate a lot. It’s a fun word. Say it out loud a couple of times. Oscillate. Ooooscillate. Okay, now I’m just being silly and postponing the story-telling.

My friend, Megan, who can empathize with my feelings of “playing grown up”, came to visit and vacation in the City this past weekend before she begins the next scene in her grown-up play. Here’s what we did, in vivid detail (at least the interesting parts):

**Just a heads-up, this is going to be a long one. I’m talking Jordan C. blog post proportions.

Friday

Upon her arrival, Megan had the distinct pleasure of listening to me lead my exec meetings – oops, I meant manage my team Progress Review calls. (Seriously, the resemblance is uncanny, for you CACers out there.) She got a kick out of that, but we were both glad to be on to greater things shortly thereafter.

We had plans – and cheap tickets, thanks to our dear friend Robbie – to see Hairspray on Broadway. Between the three of us, any night spent as connoisseurs of the theatre (British spelling: we’re snobs) is exciting, but particularly that night, because an OU alumna whom Robbie and Megan know well was performing as Tracy (aka the lead role) this past week. She was phenomenal, and it was fantastic to get to see her live her dream. Though, I couldn’t stop giggling at the fact that she was playing tonsil hockey with Ashley Parker Angel. In fact, I’m still giggling.

After the show, Annie had put us on the list to come backstage, so we did just that. We breezed past all the fans rabid to fill their autograph books and were escorted and directed to stand and wait in the middle of the stage. Oh, no big deal, we’ll just chill here In. The. Center. Of. A. Broadway. Stage. Naturally, we got our cameras out. My favorite one is my current Facebook picture – it’s of me checking out my reflection (with a coif that could’ve used some Hairspray right about then, unfortunately), in the mirror that Amber Von Tussle (the bratty blonde) uses in the show. Oh, and one of the actors from Camp, a movie I am not in the least bit ashamed to love, was in the ensemble, and he was hanging out on the stage too. (That little tidbit was just for you, K.) As we exited through the stage door, I restrained myself from the temptation to sign the handbill of the little girls standing outside. They wouldn’t have known the difference.

And no, the fun didn’t end there. Not to let the Scandals alumni, musical-loving, divas inside of us go to waste, we headed to a piano bar called Don’t Tell Mama. I’m taking you there when you come visit. Srsly. The bartenders and waitresses all carry mics around and sing – in perfect harmony, without missing a beat, mind you – while they are serving your drinks. And these people are A) funny and B) talented. It was a massive sing-along. The cute little Canadian gay couple seated next to us was amazed that I knew the words to every song. What can I say? That’s my thing. I was only slightly disappointed that upon leaving we still hadn’t convinced the pianist to play Queen’s “Show Must Go On.” So, I did my own rendition of it on the cab ride home. I’m sure the driver loved it.

Saturday

Wow, I’m only up to Saturday? I told you it was a great weekend. We slept in, since we’re working women during the week with demanding hours/schedules. Right. Or since we were out ‘til 4 the night before. Whatev.

On the way to lunch at Cilantro (another place I’m taking you when you visit. Ask Brian W. about their margaritas and the Waldorf), we discovered a little “garage sale” minus the garages. Vendors were lining the block just one street south of my apartment, and there were goodies galore. I came home with two incredible vintage necklaces and a pair of big funky earrings. And we considered buying some old Gucci shoes. Too bad they were slightly destroyed.

After lunch, we started our massive shopping event. I promise I won’t bore you with the details of every purchase we made and instead just share some mildly interesting tidbits from the day. First stop: Bloomie’s. The biggest conclusions from this outing were that I hate Juicy Couture. For real. They do have some adorable things, like a scarf with a Scottie pattern, but then they ruin it by emblazoning “Queen of Stuff” down the side. Tickety-tack hot tranny mess, y’all. Also, Megan made the proclamation that she just absolutely doesn’t like Chanel No. 5, directly after which a salesman catches her attention with a perfume she adores. Turns out it’s the new Eau de something, and it’s the redesigned version of No. 5. Remind me, George Carlin, is that the correct definition of irony?

After a quick detour through Tiffany’s (duh), we went to Mecca. I mean, Bendel’s. The highlight of that excursion? Poppy King, creator/founder/president of the makeup line Lipstick Queen, was there, and she gave us beauty tips and picked out our perfect shades of lipstick. This woman is good. And she can read your personality just from the way you hold your mouth – though I’m a skeptic, since she told us about ourselves only after having interacted with us and seeing us interact with each other. It’s all context clues, anyway. But regardless of her pseudo-psychic abilities, she is darn good with lipstick. It’s also worth mentioning that I showed great restraint in the hair accessories section and did not purchase a single thing.

There was more shopping after that, but not too much to write home about. Except that I finally found my Longchamp bag in the right size/shade. I am so pleased to no longer have to carry my things to work in my old Phi Lamb tote. As much as I love my Lambs, I’m just a little too old for that. That night was remarkably chill. We went to the Press Box, where the OU Club hosts football watch parties. Of course it was a blowout, and all in all it just made me more excited to go to a game in Norman again. It did give me a chance to premier my new crimson hair scarf as well.

Sunday

Sunday, we had every intention of getting up and going to the Broadway on Broadway concert, but no such luck. Our bodies voted for sleeping in yet again. We ventured into Times Square, avoiding the masses of confetti and crowds of fans pouring out from the just-ending event, en route to the theater to see show #2 for the weekend, Spring Awakening. I’d already seen it once from the audience, but Megan hadn’t, and we had tickets to sit onstage.

It’s definitely a different experience onstage. I noticed little things I hadn’t picked up on before – like the fact that even though all the other characters wear boots fitting of the period, Mortiz wears Converse All-Stars dyed black. Or that the entire cast is legitimately crying (okay, doing a great job of acting) during “Left Behind”. Or that Hunter Parrish is a hottie. Wait, did I type that out loud? I promise, I’m not becoming a crazy fangirl.

Besides the show, the main event of our Sunday was a trip to Little Italy. It must have been street fair day in NYC or something, because we ran into the State Fair of Texas shrunk down and transplanted into Little Italy. They even had fried oreos and a ferris wheel. All I cared about was getting some fantastic home-made sangria, though, and of course they did not disappoint.

There’s the scoop on Sooners Take Manhattan. If you’ve made it this far, I’m proud. Oh, and I feel like a story like this should have a moral, so here’s ours: When you’re on vacation, take a cab. At least that was our mantra and rationale for eschewing the subway this weekend. Totally worth every penny. Now it’s back to the grind, getting ready for a big deadline at work. It was certainly nice to take a break and step back for the weekend, to just enjoy life in the City without worrying about responsibilities or my campaigns. And then, as of Tuesday, I’m officially in single digits on the countdown to Norman.

Maybe I’ll infuse the 405 with a little of the City Love I’m going to bring along.

(P.S. You can always tell when I start to get tired while writing a post, because my tone slides into something more factual and pointed, rather than the meandering, snarky way I talk and usually write. Maybe the pause I took to receive a phone call from a friend who was drunkenly biking across a certain college campus had something to do with it. Don't worry, LB, I won't name names.)