I Missed A Day

I know. I missed a day. I suck.

I made it to New York.

You know I had a town car pick me up at the airport at 8pm. And drivers are supposed to know where they’re going. I was going to 150 W 25th St. As the driver was driving I sort of spaced out as I’d spent the entire flight talking to my neighbor. I basically told him my whole life story. I may have even started the story with “I was swimming in amniotic fluid inside my mother’s womb…” because if I didn’t I’m not sure how I could have talked for five and a half hours straight. He claimed to have enjoyed it, but my jabbermouth can really pull some stunts and make the strangest tangents or find logic where there is none. Of course I had to pull out my laptop to show off my press kit… I mean I really did a number on this guy. I feel like I owe him a night at the Four Seasons Kona with an oceanside hot rock massage.

Anyway, when I looked up we were on 2nd Ave. I pointed out to my driver that W 25th St was in Chelsea, on the West Side of town. Not the East Side. “Oh…,” he said. “I thought we were going to East 25th. I’ll take you to West 25th. You know it’s been a long day. I am fasting for Ramadan. I haven’t eaten. My mind is a little mixed up.” So he took me to 150 W 25th St.

When we showed up there was a picket line outside my hotel. They were picketing the fact that there was sexual harassment going on in the hotel. Now how could I cross a picket line and check into a hotel over the issue of sexual harassment? I used to work in Hollywood. I used to be the frequent subject of sexual harassment. I couldn’t pay good money to a hotel that was subjecting women to what I used to live with daily for six years.

But finding a new hotel? The UN was holding a General Assembly and most of the hotels in New York were sold out for the week. I made call after call and finally the St Regis managed to squeeze me in.

So that was Friday – a day on the plane, a picket line, and a hotel that squeezed me in.

I had to be up on Saturday at 7am to go edit my reel. There’s really nothing to say about the day. We just edited. The remarkable thing about the day was the night. Which brings me to now.

So it’s going on 4am making it officially Sunday. Meaning I missed a day. But, and I’ll probably repeat this, in spirit it still feels like Saturday.

So on “Saturday”, we finished editing at 10:30pm. This friend had been trying to set me up on a blind date with this guy for several trips to New York, and I wanted to get it over with, so I called the guy at 11pm and asked him if he wanted to get together. I thought for sure he’d drop everything and come over to my hotel room to have a “room service” dinner with me. Instead he told me he couldn’t do anything until 12:30am. I have to say I was a little taken aback. But I said okay and managed to waste an hour and a half until he showed up closer to 1am.

As soon as he showed up I knew it was a mistake. First of all it was 1am. Second of all he was NOT my type. And third of all he was IN my hotel room. I was stuck. And he had already eaten, so I ordered food and he ordered a drink and he watched me eat. Please not, he was drinking and I wasn’t meaning he was getting drunk and I wasn’t.

I tried to discuss politics with him which he admittedly said he didn’t follow. He tried to discuss cardiology with me (he was in his eleventh year of medical school on a path to becoming a cardiologist) which I didn’t understand. I tried to imagine something a fashionista and a cardiologist with no chemistry might discuss but couldn’t really think of anything. I turned the TV around so it faced us and turned on CNN and they were covering the Jena 6 so I asked him what he thought. That lasted a sentence or two. Then I asked him what he thought of Lou Dobbs. He thought he was “a nut job.” He liked my Bill Clinton story, didn’t know anything about any candidate’s health care plans, nor did he have a candidate that he was favoring – though he was a democrat. And that was our conversation. He was the quiet type with dry humor that came out in RESPONSE to something, meaning I had to SAY something in order to elicit anything interesting. But I didn’t want to say anything, I wanted to go to bed. On the other hand I didn’t want to be rude because he seemed rather interested in me and again, I didn’t want to rude. When a guy seems interested and I always prefer to take the “never return a phone call or e-mail ever again” route rather than saying straight up, “I’m just not that into you”…

He finally left a little bit ago. Which brings me to now. I missed a day. Technically it’s Sunday going on 4am.. But in the spirit of a day, it still feels like Saturday. I prefer to say it’s Saturday night and I’m just up late. But really I missed a day.