February school break. I decided to spend a full day with my 11-year old son. You know, creating memories.
I’m not sure what really happened today. I rode the subway. A LOT. Gave my son his latest lesson on NYC Mass Transit. Today it was navigating the 7-Shuttle and the A-C-E Lines. You know how to Subway surf, not look at anyone, watch the gap, stand to the side and let the passengers off first before you bolt onto the car when it comes into the station, stand back from the yellow line (people push), and don’t touch anything. AT ALL.
Today’s destination? Meatpacking District. Whitney Museum. Warhol exhibit. Tickets in hand, no waiting in line for us, this Mom is smart. Or is she? My son wanted the mobile device to be able to listen to the tour guide. Ugh. We wait in line behind the Jersey girls that came in for a day of culture and lunch, lots of chatting, laughing and talking about their new LV handbags. Honestly, can’t make this up. By the time we got in line there was no snow, and by the time we got our mobile device, there were 2 inches. And the snow plunge was slooow this morning.
11 am. The walking, the subway lesson & the Jersey gals = exhausted.
I vaguely remember walking the Warhol exhibit, from room to room and trying to read the description for each art piece and have “the” experience. I like this offbeat guy. Always did. But my son gave up on the first art piece because as he said, “Blah, it was boring.” As he handed me the mobile device. You know the one we waited in line for 15 minutes to get! But he continued to ask me the questions. “Who is this guy Andy Warhol? What exactly did he do? Why? When did he die? Looks like stuff we do in art smart class! Did he like soup? What’s Brillo?” They had cool film reels of “The Factory” that you can listen to. My son listened to one. I asked him how it was. The answer, “I don’t know what the hell they’re talking about!”
I do remember stopping and watching Andy on film eating a hamburger. Him looking back at us through the camera. Odd. Made me hungry.
My son hustled us through the 2-floor exhibit, all he really wanted to do was ride the larger than life elevator. We got our coats, hit the loo, blew through the gift shop & got our stash of goodies. In and out? 47 minutes. Not kidding. Out the door he’s now catching snow on his tongue and asking if it’s okay he’s touching that in Manhattan! OMG! Food. Yes, we should eat. I gotta keep the day alive. I’m creating memories here! I see it. There she is. Across the street. One of my son’s favorites when he was a baby…. Bubby’s. Yippee!! My second wind kicked in & I take my son by the arm and with a big smile start telling him how much he loved this place as a baby, yadda, yadda, hoping – no pushing to make a memory – it’s my day’s mission here. Once inside, we are immediately brought to our 2-top table, menus shoved in our faces, waiter standing over us pressing us to order. Ohhhhh, pancakes of course! As fast as you can say the word hotcakes, they were in front of us. Whip cream and chocolate bits to boot. Yes. I’m chewing, my son is chewing, as soon as he lifted his head off the table, and repeat. We ate. We smiled at each other. We looked around at other people. We finished. All in a loud silence. Day over? That’s it? Did I do good? Then, as I’m paying the $60 bucks for our flapjacks, out of nowhere he proclaims, “Best pancakes ever Mom!” And just like that, I feel myself fall into the biggest smile and kinda got all warm and fuzzy inside, because I knew our day visiting Andy, our continued lessons as a NYC Straphanger and the delicious johnnycakes would be a memory neither of us would forget!
And that’s my time!
P.S. As soon as we got home:
- I washed my son’s gloves – even tho I said “don’t touch” he touched!
- Washed his clothes – he subway sat!
- Alcoholed the bottom of our shoes. I’m a City girl, Meatpacking was not a pretty place at one time. Those old sidewalks stream a bloody story!