Englishman in New York

Giggsy was visiting New York this weekend, and I was thrilled. It's always heartwarming when friends from my old life in London come visit, and for a brief period of time, the past and present collide.

Giggsy wanted to have a quintessential 'New York' experience. "Let's do things that are typically New York!" he said excitedly as soon as he arrived home from the airport.

This, as I'm sure you can imagine, caused much consternation and kerfuffle in our abode. Giggsy wanted 'metro-cool', and that's a tall order for us whose regular haunt is Keats. But I'm nothing if not mildly resourceful, so we called MePaJoe and Ilajna in panic, and luckily they could give us a few suggestions for trendy bars in the meatpacking district, setting our minds somewhat at ease.

We'd intended to start out with an early quiet drink at Keats, to warm us up for the inevitably lengthy night that was to come. But as it turned out, by the time we reached Keats they were just about to kick off their karaoke session for the evening. Jackie was in full form, calling on Giggsy over the microphone, while the poor chap squirmed in his seat and tried to retract his head further and further into his collar. This, followed by a marathon fest at Pravda (much debate on the social legitimacy of men drinking strawberry martinis) kept us outside and on our toes till the wee hours of morn. The next day, Doobie, Giggsy and I headed down to Pastis for a leisurely brunch (are you still allowed to call it brunch if you only just make it there for 3pm?), and then schlepped over to central park to laze around in the summer sunshine. A glass of chilled wine in a quiet sidewalk bar on the Upper West Side, and then we headed over to Jacques-Imo's to introduce Giggsy to the concept of Creole cuisine. Can't never go wrong with a bit of ol' jambalaya.

This morning, I managed to catch up with Giggsy for lunch before he headed off back to the airport. Headed out for a spot of sushi ("need some healthy detox", we both agreed), and then wandered around the W. Village ("this is Perry Street, where I want to live one day" I pointed out to him). But inevitably (and unforgiveably) soon, it was time to head back to work.
"Did you enjoy your weekend?" I asked.
He beamed at me. "I'm planning to come 5 times a year!!"
We both laughed, and as I hugged him goodbye, I quite hoped he was serious. It had been lovely to see him again. Just like old times. Only better.