Months ago, my girlfriend, Madison, and I were talking about a way for me to meet her parents —who live in Connecticut — and Madison thought it would be fun if we met up with them in NYC. She was right, of course (but don’t let it go to your head, Madison). Since I was small, I’ve been dreaming about visiting the almost mythical city, the backdrop for superhero flicks, Meg Ryan rom-coms, and The Godfather; this in spite of coworkers who insist it smells like piss and garbage. Maybe it does, but I liked it.
I first met Madison’s parents, Tony and Marci, in a pre-war tea parlor in Chinatown, eating pork buns so good a southerner might give up his accent. Because of modern marvels like FaceTime, I already knew what they looked like, and we’d spoken before, but now I got to hug her mom and shake her dad’s hand. Madison and I wanted a day to ourselves the first day, so they just popped in long enough to say hello and admire our pork buns before heading to Lower Manhattan.
New York is a street photographer’s dream. I brought a film camera with me, being the old soul that I am, but in a stunning turn of events I shot more on my iPhone camera than my trusty film camera. (This is the part where my film camera Fredo-kisses me with a look on it’s imaginary face that says “how could you?”) In a city where 8 million people live on top of each other, there’s a great candid shot at every turn. I was living my best life.
I’m fairly certain I’ve never walked 14 miles at a stretch my entire life, but I did in New York City, and with frequent stops for photos that caused Madison to run into me over and over. From Battery Park and Wall Street to Hudson Yards, we hoofed it all over that bustling island, and me with a work laptop on my back so thick it could stop an armor-piercing bullet (I was expecting an important work email that never came). My shoulders were chafed from the backpack straps.
Men chatting on the street. iPhone 13 Pro.
A cyclist leaves the subway. iPhone 13 Pro.
Friends. iPhone 13 Pro.
Friday, we explored the city with Madison’s parents, giving me a chance to get to know them. I discovered that Tony imparted his daughter with his hunger for the absolute best parking spot, and Marci imparted her with the desire not to be touched when she’s warm. It’s eye-opening seeing your girlfriend’s origins, an experience where you often find yourself saying, “it all makes sense now.”
The gang visited all the normal New York stops: Central Park, 5th Avenue, Tiffany’s, the Lego Store, Rockefeller Plaza, the New York Library, Grand Central Station, and so on. As a train nerd, Grand Central Station was one of my favorite stops. Our train back to Connecticut — where we stayed two nights at Tony and Marci’s house — departed from there. It’s a happn’in place with a lot of marble. And pretzel vendors. I bought one for the train.
Madison and I walk around in NYC. Photo courtesy of Madison.
The Chrysler Building. iPhone 13 Pro.
The Met. iPhone 13 Pro.
New Yorkers on 5th Avenue. iPhone 13 Pro.
Grand Central. iPhone 13 Pro.
Madison’s parents were very kind. They put me up in Madison’s brother’s old room, the one with eyeballs that Madi painted in the closet. Her mom washed my dirty clothes before I put them back in my suitcase. Her dad paid for nearly all our meals. “Y’all made the trip up here,” he said. “It’s the least we can do.” I don’t know about all that, but they were very nice. And they told me funny stories about Madison, which was the whole point of the trip, anyway.
They dropped us off at the airport on our last day. Tony found a good parking spot and they went all the way to the security gates with us, where we said our goodbyes, then watched at the barrier until we were all the way through the TSA line, which took a long time because Madison must’ve tried to smuggle contraband in her bag. With looks of growing concern on their faces, I used my freakishly long arms to give them a thumbs-up above the sea of heads as the TSA agent finally zipped Madi’s bag back up. They smiled and waved as we walked towards our gate.
Tony and Marci made me feel welcome and showed us a good time — and more importantly, embarrassing childhood photos of Madi. I’d go back to New York in a heartbeat, piss and garbage smells n’all.
Madi and I with her parents. Photo courtesy of Madison.