The cab driver from Pakistan took us through the West Village to The High Line, a service for which we paid him. Pam of course decides at this point is that what she wants to do is walk around the West Village. We don't do that, but it becomes a sticking point which will arise later in our visit.
We'd trained in earlier from Brooklyn to Union Square, where we enjoyed the farmer's market in Union Square Park. We bought apples and peaches and assorted other delicacies before heading southwest on Broadway towards the National Debt Clock. We coursed south through Greenwich Village, landing briefly in Washington Square Park to find this amazing garage percussionist with dancing accompaniment.
At 1 min 15 sec he sends the dancing kid away - big mistake as the kid, who left with his parents, was half the act. It occurred to me too late that I should have tipped the kid as well as the drummer.
The High Line is an elevated public park that winds through Chelsea on the West side of Manhattan. Great views of the area abound, as do rail-mounted lounge chairs, foot fountains, popsicles and benches over which Griffin flies.
Once back on the ground, we happened upon the filming of an episode of The Blacklist - camera crews, actors, extras filled this side street, and we stopped for a bit to watch. The crew moved us out of the shot, but Pam surreptitiously stayed perched on a high step. Rowan, armed with her book waited patiently for her gawking family on a stoop down the street. I didn't see James Spader.
We met up with Patty, Drew and Fia and communed for food at the Chelsea Market smorgasbord - Griffin and Rowan had Nam Pang BBQ sandwiches and Drew and I both had Ramen from the Japanese place, which was really really good.
From there we grabbed a cab over to the teeter district. Matilda is playing at the Shubert Theater, between 7th and 8th avenues on 44th street. It's a good time to mention here that Berit's not with us yet. She's active in a leadership opportunity at her high school for which she ended up staying in Colorado. She'll fly out on Sunday, and I'm really sad that she's not here for Matilda.
Patty accompanied us in Berit's stead; the show was amazing, and we were in the front row. Pam was actually dodging spit from the Trunchbull's exhortations, and I'm pretty sure I could have reached out and touched a couple of the characters as they knelt by the edge of the stage. Here is a great bit from Harry Wormwood, Matilda's father, during intermission:
After the show our route back to the train takes us through Times Square and Bryant Park.
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