I spent much of the party hanging out with Shannon, a U of C student whom I'd met the previous summer. On saturday, 1/1/2K, we were talking about Fantasia 2000, which had premiered the previous evening, and how much we wanted to see it. We hopped on the net and found out that the closest place it was playing was New York City. Hmm. NY-City. Sounds like a fun place to be on NY-weekend. We attempted to get tickets over the phone to ensure we didn't drive down in vain, but a baffling system designed for maximum frustration was beyond our means to defeat, so we just hopped in the car and zoomed south. We had a road atlas which covered all 50 states in the union, which meant that its idea of a New York map was about 2 inches square and went from Yonkers to New Jersey. It looked about like this:
Neither of us knew the area, so the trip was a bit of an adventure, but my attunement with the geomagnetic fields of the earth was enough to get us to Manhattan, at which point the traffic reduced us to quivering terrified incoherence. This is not hyperbole (well, not much). We got off the roads as quickly as possible and into the valet parking of the Waldorf-Astoria, a luxurious hotel on Park Avenue. Despite us being a couple of young punks who looked nothing like the distinguished, elderly paragons who seemingly made up the bulk of the visitors, we were treated with exquisite care.
Sunday was a full day, encompassing the Met, the Guggenheim, an Argentine Tango show on Broadway, and of course, F2K at the Sony Lincoln Center. Tidbits from the day:
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