My flight landed at JFK around 5AM on Tuesday morning, December 23^rd. Aside from the monstrosity of luggage I was carrying (fully prepared for a shopping spree, NYC style), deplaning and getting through customs were a breeze.

In addition to speaking with hotel management in advance, I am a Gold or Diamond or Platinum, or whatever other precious metal or gemstone member of the Marriott, so I fully expected that my early check-in request would be granted. However, I arrived at the beautifully decorated and eerily quiet hotel just before 6AM, and with a slight look of annoyance and the flattest monotone, the front desk associate told me that the hotel was completely sold out and that I my room would not be ready until that afternoon. Fine, I thought. I’ll just walk over to Starbucks and just enjoy the quiet of the morning and the sparkling lights. That lasted for about 30 minutes.

I had a hair appointment at 9AM and took the chance and called the salon just before 7AM hoping that they would be willing to take me earlier. To my pleasant surprise, the woman on the phone told me to make my way to the salon now. So I grabbed a taxi and headed up to Harlem. I arrived to the salon, which was on the basement level of a very old brownstone. There was no heating and boy, was it cold down there. Aside from the cold, the salon was not all that clean and left little to be desired, but Yelp assured me that this was the place to have one’s hair braided in NYC, so after selecting my hair, I settled in. 7 hours later, they spun me around in the mirror to reveal the most amazing Senegalese twists. I’m not a huge fan of braids on me, but these braids were pure perfection, so when they quoted me slightly higher than we had previously discussed (par for the course), I didn’t mind paying. They had earned it!

Starving and tired, I hailed a taxi and headed back to Manhattan. It was almost 3 and I forgot that I had made an appointment at the incredible Bliss Spa for an eyebrow wax. The experience and ambiance and staff were all so amazing that I booked a half day of services for the next morning. After finally making it back to the hotel, I was finally able to shower and go to sleep. Ah, Day 1 was complete.

The next day was Christmas Eve, so it was time to explore the city before the show I had scheduled later in the day. Usually when I vacation, I keep my schedule very loose and play things by ear and adjust as the day unfolds. Not this trip! I had every detail planned to the nth degree, with the exception of Christmas Day. After a day filled with sightseeing, shopping, grazing at The Plaza Food Hall, riding horse & carriage through Central Park, and the Rockette’s, Day 2 was complete.

 

Christmas Day

I only had a few things planned (really, just eating and catching a double feature), so I left myself a lot of free time to relax and reflect on the season. The day started with a highly anticipated brunch at a restaurant with rave reviews and a beautiful menu. Unfortunately, the experience fell incredibly short. The restaurant was busy, but not at capacity and there were adequate “helpers” or “table runners” available. I was annoyed from the time I was seated…literally crammed into a corner next to the cash register. I thought I could manage, but as I was placing my order, I asked to be moved to the empty table next to mine. The waiter obliged. He was neither rude nor overly joyous. I placed my order for the most decadent fruit infused pancakes, eggs, and Canadian bacon (living in Brazil, these things are indeed a luxury) and a glass of the best sparkling wine on the menu. The waiter took my order, then said that they might be sold out of the Rosé, but would check with the bartender. He returned to the table to inform me that they were indeed sold out, and offered me the cheapest sparkling wine on the menu as an alternative <insert side eye>. My food arrived and I was hungry and ready to eat.

The amount of syrup they brought me not sufficient, so I got the attention of one of the table runners to request more. He rudely obliged and disappeared into the kitchen. He returned a few moments later and while simultaneously turning his back, slammed down the ice cold syrup on the table. He was practically walking away as he slammed the syrup down. He absolutely REFUSED to look back in my direction, but I got the attention of one of the other “table runners” and asked him to send my waiter. After about 10-15 minutes and no waiter, I was livid! My food was cold, my syrup felt like it had come out of the freezer. I could almost hear my blood boiling. All that while that smug waiter-in-waiting who brought me the chilled syrup refused to look in my direction. I had had it! I got up from my table, put on my coat, and asked to speak to a manager. While unsuccessfully fighting my annoyance, I explained to her what had happened I very matter-of-factly told her that “I will NOT be paying for ANYTHING!” and walked out. I was beyond pissed! Well, it was more disappointment, because I was really looking forward to eating that food. My hotel had a restaurant, so I headed back that way. After waiting to be sat and watching 3 parties come in after me at the “no reservations accepted” restaurant, I stormed out of there too. This was NOT the way my Christmas Day was supposed to go!

After I calmed down, I decided to just ditch brunch and head to the movie theater earlier than I had planned. Since this brunch fiasco was throwing off my schedule, I had to find another theater and ended up in Times Square to watch Selma. After what I had just experienced, it probably wasn’t the best movie choice, but hey… My Christmas brunch ended up being movie popcorn and chocolate covered almonds. And instead of my sparking rose, I settled for a 20oz. bottle of Dasani. My plan was to see a double feature, but since my schedule was thrown off and I was really early, I would have to wait around for longer than I would have liked, so back to the hotel I went. I got back to the room and piddled around a bit, but quickly grew bored. So I decided to walk to the 24-hour Duane Reade a couple of blocks from the hotel to grab a few things requested by some colleagues back in Brazil. I freshened up a bit and headed out.

Now here comes the magic…

The hotel elevator doors opened and slightly slouched in the back corner, clutching a cell phone in each hand, was the most decadent piece of walking chocolate my eyes had beheld in quite some time…smartly dressed in perfectly fitting jeans, a snug charcoal grey sweater with leather elbow patches and coordinating scarf, and a neatly groomed salt and pepper beard…and smelling of the sexiest musky cologne. I gave him a polite smile and got on the elevator. Still rubbing lotion into my hands, I see him checking me in my peripheral. So I give him a half glance back as if to say, “Yeah, I see you too.” After a few seconds he speaks in a thick accent…”Greetings of the Season.” After a few clumsy, “I’m sorry’s?” from me, I was finally able to make out what he was saying. I recovered with a warm smiled, ever so slightly batted my eyes and replied, “Oh thank You. Same to you.”

 

Read about what happened next in About New York – Part II