Wine DO
 

Here was my silly reasoning. The plane ($200) would require
that I check a bag, which I didn't want to do. The train
($100) wouldn't, but didn't arrive at a convenient location
and didn't have wi-fi except on the Acela, which was extra.
Greyhound was a whopping $14 and took me to Port Authority,
where I could take a crosstown bus right to the front door
of my hotel. So that was that.

I showed up at the bus station nice and early and saw a
sleek new Greyhound, which was heartening. Alas, it pulled
out eventually and a beat-up old Peter Pan took its place.

PPP 2222 0830 1320

Unpleasant surprise. The driver made me check the wine bag.
I don't know if he was afraid I'd make him drink the East
India Solera Sherry 1994 or what, but there was this ugly
storm-trooperish security guy with a German shepherd, and
I didn't want to fuss with those, so into the hold it went.

Okay, the bus takes half an hour longer than the train
because it stops in Silver Spring. I took advantage during
this time of the free wi-fi that the lead of the Bolt Bus
has forced others to follow. At Silver Spring I fell asleep,
setting my clock to get me up when we crossed the Delaware
Memorial Bridge, which I like.

Shortly thereafter we veered off the Pike and onto local
roads; the driver made some announcement about there being
an accident, an overturned truck blocking traffic ahead.
As long as we were parallelling the highway, traffic looked
good. I suspect the real motivation for the detour was the
avoidance of tolls. This being the 21st century, I went to
the Pike Website - no news of course. Coupled with a bit of
a clog before the Lincoln Tunnel, I thought we'd be late for
sure; nonetheless, we pulled into Port Authority a minute or
two early,

I caught the crosstown bus to my digs, the Hilton Manhattan
East, 304 E 42nd, formerly the Crowne Plaza, formerly the
Tudor. My room wasn't ready (I was an hour early), and
there's no club room. No offer of any kind of accommodation,
but I was hungry anyhow, and there's a Goodburger up half a
block, so I stopped in for a burger rare and a Sam, $10.70,
$12.5 or so with tax. The sandwich was good, the meat
preformed but freshish and blood rare. And the juice that
oozed out was mostly juice, with relatively little fat. The
bun was a squishy supermarket thing, but the lettuce,
tomato, and onion were fresh though skimpy. And Sam is
always good.

Back at the hotel I got my room keys and breakfast coupon
and headed upstairs for a short nap. It was a really nice
room, about the size of your luxury studio apartment in
this part of the world. Great bathroom, reminding me of
a slightly smaller version of what I've come to expect
Conrad properties.

I inquired of the Roosevelt, and lili hadn't shown up yet.
I had just written a note for her at the front desk, when
that lovely lady showed up, smiling but a bit out of breath
- her transport had been caught up in precipitation traffic.
She signed in, and off we went to the Do site, Cafe con
Leche on Amsterdam Ave., way up there someplace. As all
forms of surface transport seemed chancy and slow, we took
the subway, which suits my frugal side anyhow. We were about
last to arrive; there were about a dozen FT friends around a
big long table in the back room. The problem with a long
table as opposed to a round one is that sharing of tastes is
more difficult. After cocktails and guac (good), and a bunch
of orders of tasty sopa del dia (sopa de leftovers) the main
dishes were enjoyable in a filling you up after a hard day
in the sugar cane plantation sort of way. lili's roast pork
(puerco asado, I think) had substantial fatty and gristly
bits (which I was ceded) but was decent; my pork stew (carne
guisado) was kind of acidy tomatoey but quite good tasting.
A special of chicken roulade with spinach (I think jackal
had this but I'm not sure) was pretty unspecial (note: don't
order things that are too fancy in an unfancy place), and
arroz con pollo y chorizo y camarones to my left (whose? I
forget) was huge and tasty.

Along with, you get rice and either red or black beans and
sweet plantains or starchy plantains (tostones). These,
though extreme peasant fill'er up food, were good.

Presidente beers helped things along.

Afterward we were poured special drinks on the house -
Bailey's and cherry juice. El_Chiflero, you done good.

Drinks at The Blue Donkey, a noisy but enjoyable joint a
few blocks up: too happening for the likes of me, but still
the drinks were fine and not too expensive. I had a rather
imperfect perfect martini with about twice as much bitters
as normal (quite refreshing); lili had a Shock Top blonde
served with a lime wedge.

Back to the lobby of the Roosevelt for some people watching
- and then I moped solitarily to the Hilton for some
much-needed rest.