Manhattan Dreaming (14 page)

‘I'm really glad you emailed when you first did Lauren, you're going to enjoy living in Chelsea. And we're going to have fun!' I knew Kirsten was right on all counts.

I checked out of the UN Plaza and was surprisingly sad to say goodbye to Bob, Raph, Barney and Joe. I felt like I had made myself a little family in midtown, but I was ready to settle into Chelsea. I was also looking forward to a much bigger space, a regular exercise routine, meeting my other flatmate Vikki and hanging out with Kirsten.

A car picked me and my red luggage up and deposited us all on 25th Street between 7th and 8th Avenues. My new home was an apartment on the 5th floor without a lift. In New York this was called a walk-up. Kirsten came down and helped me with my bags.

‘Wow, this place is so cool.' I fell in love with the apartment immediately; there was an eclectic mix of furniture, movie paraphernalia, a massive poster of presidential candidate Obama in the living room, a combined washing machine and dryer and a red microwave. My room was going to be full of sunlight all day. I was desperate to see the bathroom, and as soon as I walked in I closed the door, stood in the bath / shower and there it was, a view of one-fifth of the Empire State Building. I knew the layout of the apartment and all the appliances meant that I had scooped an up-market place in Chelsea but with three paying rent it was still manageable.

Kirsten put the kettle on when I came out and I sat at the wooden dining table and started flicking through copies of the
New Yorker
as she fussed around making tea.

‘So tell me about your work,' I asked.

‘Basically I resource the sixteen members of the Permanent Forum on Indigenous Peoples. I love it, but it's a massive job, coordinating four meetings a year for the leaders who advise the UN on Indigenous policy.'

‘Wow, that's full-on, and so important. Should I have curtseyed to you or something when we met?'

‘Very funny, no curtseying required.' She put the cups on the table. ‘There's a meeting in a few weeks' time – you should come and observe. Or you could just hang out with us at the Manchester after that and meet the other members.' I was keen to observe the meeting, but I could take or leave the pub after my experience with Cooper.

‘Cool,' I said, not committing myself either way.

The door swung open and a buxom woman with long legs and a short dress strolled sexily into the room. I wondered if I could ever walk that way.

‘Hey there,' she said in a strong Brooklyn accent. ‘I'm Vikki.' She put fresh flowers on the table. Vikki was gorgeous: taller than me, with an hourglass figure, a small diamond nose ring and masses of brown curls billowing down her back. ‘Been up since four, so I just want to have a quick shower and freshen up – be back in a minute and promise I'll be normal.' She dragged a huge bag behind her into the bathroom.

‘Vikki works in films – she's a freelance location manager.'

‘What's that entail? I've never met someone in that job before.' I did sound like a country bumpkin.

‘There's loads of films made in New York so you'll probably meet heaps of film people while you're here. Vikki's responsible for finding the locations for film and TV shows.'

‘Wow, that's deadly. Do you get to meet any movie stars with her?'

‘Not really, but she meets them all the time. She works really long days, though, out on shoots early in the morning until late at night. There's no way I could do it. She loves it and always comes home with the best stories.'

Vikki came back and sat down with a bottle of water. ‘Now, that's better. Kirsten tells me you're going to work at the Smithsonian – that sounds cool.'

‘Yeah, can't wait. I'm already loving everything about New York, I'm sure the museum will be great.'

‘We did a shoot there on a history documentary last year. It was awesome.' I liked the word ‘awesome' it was like the Yankee version of ‘deadly'.

‘Where did you shoot today?' Kirsten asked.

‘Well, I didn't know when I scouted the place out, but apparently we were in the same apartment block where Lindsay Lohan lives.'

‘Wow.' I wasn't a Lindsay Lohan fan by any stretch but it was hard not to be impressed by being so close to celebrity life.

‘It's a gorgeous day – let's show Lauren around the area. You can unpack later, eh, tidda.' Kirsten was organising the flowers and me at the same time but I didn't mind, and I felt at home, being called tidda for the first time since I'd left Australia. I knew Libby and Kirsten would get on if they ever met.

‘All the action happens below 23rd Street, so let's go,' Vikki said, running her fingers through her still-damp hair.

We walked along 8th Avenue and I felt happy. The sun was shining on my face, I had two new friends and roomies, and as we walked along the street people kept smiling and nodding at the three of us.

A horn beeped and I jumped.

‘Everyone beeps their horns here too.'

‘I like to call it the New York horn-symphony,' Kirsten joked. ‘Took me a while to get used to it as well. I had to buy earplugs because it goes on all night.'

‘It's fair to say that everyone is horn happy here,' Vikki said, ‘so, I guess you could say they're horn
y
.'

‘Boom, boom!' Kirsten and Vikki high-fived each other.

I liked the way they played off each other. Life with them was definitely going to be fun.

‘Let me explain,' Vikki said, stopping mid-footpath. ‘There are three reasons someone will honk their horn at you, Lauren. Either they want you to get out of the way, which of course we can appreciate for safety reasons. Or, if you're in a borough without cabs where they only have car services, then a driver will honk to ask whether you want a ride or not. Or, if it's just a normal car' – a Chrysler drove past and honked and the driver waved – ‘like that one' – Vikki pointed – ‘and you're obviously not in the road or going to be hit or blocking their path, then they're just beeping to tell you they think you're hot.'

‘Really? Oh my god, that's crazy.'

‘That's right,' Vikki said. ‘I always like to assume it's the third option, of course.'

‘Well of course, we all do,' Kirsten confirmed.

The girls pointed out different businesses I might need: the drycleaners, Rite Aid, Duane Reade, the bank, coffee joints.

‘There's so many pharmacies and coffee shops,' I said, having lost count of both.

‘Yes, there are, but we don't go to Starbucks,' Kirsten said, not commenting on the ‘drugstores'.

‘Why? Bad coffee?'

‘They have one at Guantanamo Bay,' both girls said in unison.

‘You're kidding?'

‘Nup.'

We kept walking.

‘That's my favourite nail place,' Vikki said, and I was surprised to see a man in the window drying his nails.

‘Oh, the Brooklyn Bagel & Coffee Company. Now, Lauren, this place has the best selection of bagels you'll find round here. Seriously, it took me months to go through the entire list. Just be sure and ask for a schmear of cream cheese,' Kirsten advised.

‘Yes, I've learned that lesson already, thanks.'

‘Breadstix have fantastic cheesecake and continental cakes.' Vikki pointed to a store across the street.

‘I have the biggest sweet tooth so I'll definitely check that place out.'

‘You can see the gym from Breadstix too, if you just want to think about exercise.'

‘No, I actually
want
to exercise – really. I'll need to go check out the gym so I can get in a routine as soon as possible.'

‘Come on, Lauren, worry about fitness later. Right now we're going to initiate you into one of our favourite weekend rituals – shopping at the Chelsea Markets.'

I had read about the markets in my travel guide and fell into step willingly. As we headed towards 9th Avenue between 15th and 16th Streets I looked at all the bars, cafes, grills, restaurants, and a few gay porn shops: the Blue Store, Rainbows and Triangles, Station. It was like a mini-Darlinghurst within a block. Adam would have freaked out here for sure – Chelsea was a world away from rugby league culture. I wondered if this was where Wyatt hung out.

‘This way, Lauren.' Kirsten took my arm as we entered the markets. ‘Every Saturday morning, we come here together if I'm not travelling and Vikki's not working, and we do our fruit and veggie shopping.' Buskers were playing classical music and it gave the centre a peaceful, restful atmosphere, much less hectic than the Bus Depot Markets back home, where the sounds of whitefellas playing the didj often bothered me.

‘It's the best place locally for seafood too.' Vikki motioned to the seafood delights on our right.

‘I have a great selection of tea in the apartment, Lauren, and I get it all from here.'

Kirsten pointed out the tea shop.

‘You and your tea,' Vikki joked. ‘I need a coffee.'

My sweet tooth was going crazy as I took in all the different chocolate shops and bakeries.

‘Could we get a coffee here, do you think?' I asked, staring into a store full of cupcakes and cookies. The sign said Eleni's.

‘Oh, yes, this place is a treat. I usually go to 92 Degrees cos they do
really
great coffee, but we can stop here today.' Vikki was kind to oblige my request.

I walked into Eleni's and there were designer cookies in the shape of handbags and shoes and animals, and cupcakes with every conceivable frosting possible. There was too much to choose from.

‘You should buy one of those T-shirts,' Kirsten said, pointing to a staff member wearing a shirt with the slogan ‘Eat dessert first'.

‘That's hilarious, and I really should.'

‘Would you ladies like to try one of our newest cupcakes?' a shop assistant asked, holding a tray of little cakes, each with a picture of Obama made out of icing on top of it.

‘Oh, wow, yes please. Can I take a photo?'

‘We don't allow photos in the store,' the assistant said, as the manager came out into the shop area.

‘Oh,' I said, disappointed. The cakes looked incredible. ‘I'm not from around here, and my girlfriends back home would love to see your shop, I just know it.'

‘I guess one photo won't hurt,' the owner said, sidling right up next to me with the tray of cupcakes, and Kirsten took the picture.

‘Oh my god, you are unbelievable,' she whispered as we walked out with a free sample of Obama's cake. ‘You are such a flirt.'

‘That wasn't flirting, I was serious, and Libby and Denise would kill for one of those cakes.'

Vikki stopped and put her hands out to stop both Kirsten and I.

‘It's the accent, Lauren, they love the Australian accent. Kirsten, you really need to exploit it more too. I'm taking you two everywhere with me,' she said.

‘Let's have a drink at East of 8th first,' Vikki said as we descended the stairs that evening, heels clicking on the laminated flooring.

‘E8, good idea, Ms V.'

‘E8' as Kirsten called it was a bar only a block away from our apartment, nestled below the street, small, intimate and dark. There were lots of gay guys taking most of the seats around the horseshoe bar, so we sat ourselves at a table in the corner.

‘I like it here,' I said. ‘It's comfortable.' There were little kerosene lamps on the tables giving off a hint of light.

‘It's mainly regulars, and after-workers,' Kirsten said. ‘It's the kind of bar I can come to alone and feel okay, and of course it's handy.'

‘It's my shout.' I stood up, grateful for everything the girls had already done for me on my first day in Chelsea.

‘You mean, you're going to buy a
round
?' Vikki smiled. ‘I can see I need to give you a crash course in the American vernacular.'

‘Oh, yes please, but I'm sure I can get us a
round
without too much trouble.'

I waited at the bar patiently to be served while the girls worked out the plan for the night.

‘Two gin and tonics and a mojito, please.' I was being brave and thought that I could probably manage one drink for the night, just to get into the party mood.

‘We don't do mojitos here,' the barman said apologetically.

‘Oh, that's okay – I'll just have a soda then.' Libby had warned me about the free-pour system in the US and I didn't want to risk drinking three-nip drinks in small tumblers.

‘A what?'

‘A soda.'

‘What kind of soda?' The barman appeared to have no idea what I wanted.

‘Soda water.'

‘I think she means club soda,' a guy next to me said to the barman, and then winked at me.

‘Right, club soda, that's it.' I was getting flustered and feeling a little Mick Dundee-ish.

The bartender poured the drinks and placed them on coasters on the bar. I paid for them without fuss, but then fumbled over the tip I had to leave. I walked back to the table shaking my head in embarrassment.

‘I need that linguistics lesson asap,' I told Vikki, handing the girls their drinks.