Englishmen in New York

From an environmental point of view, I wasn’t scoring any Brownie points. The flight across the Atlantic from Miami was exclusively for the purpose of meeting my two sons at Heathrow in order to get back straight on another plane and fly to New York. Yes, they were probably old enough to have negotiated the logistics themselves and I could have met them at JFK after a short domestic flight up from Florida. But this was both of their first trips to NYC and part of the excitement was travelling with them and enjoying the whole experience. Plus, as a dad, I wanted to make sure everything went smoothly with the immigration authorities Stateside. I know. But some habits of being a father are hard to shake, so forgive me.

Florida had been hot and fun. The conference had gone well and everyone left South Beach with a smile. New York was rainy and a little cool by comparison, but the joy radiating from the boys was palpable and made any clouds evaporate. There were smiles as wide as the Hudson river all the way. Once we got through the border cops, I’d arranged for a limo pick up to chauffeur us into Midtown. The driver of the Lincoln took the route where virtually every view out of the window sparked another smile and a disbelieving exclamation. Sam and Josh were seeing places they had seen a thousand times in movies and TV shows. The 1939 World Trade Fair site as featured in Men in Black, the Yankees stadium, turnpikes, signs to New Jersey and the Brooklyn Bridge and, of course, the Manhattan skyline, which dominated the last section of the journey in. Even my heart skips a beat when I look at that view. I’ve done forty odd trips to NYC but still, it always gives me a thrill to arrive and plug into the mains adaptor – this is, after all, energy central.

The boys wanted NYC to be larger than life, and it didn’t disappoint. When the limo pulled off Maddison Avenue and to the front door of the New York Palace Hotel (where I usually stayed when visiting for business), a bear of a man opened the limo door and boomed “WELCOME TO THE NOOO YOWUK PALACE, GENETLEMEN!” The boys were overwhelmed and the doorman put a ham of an arm around each of them as I took a photo of the reception committee. The guy was huge. Sam and Josh looked like they were two snacks he was carrying around for later, in case he got hungry. I signed the car chitty and slipped the Bear ten bucks. It was good to be back.

First trip to New York. You have to do the sights. The boys wanted to orientate themselves so we settled into our cavernous room – two emperor sized beds, big TV, marble bathroom and view of the glass and concrete canyons that make up the Midtown district – unpacked and went down onto street level. We walked over to Time Square, which, as we all know, is a hole and a cliché, but it had to be done. We popped into the American Eagle store for our first of what was to be many excursions into the clothes outlets of all New York. I guess that everyone, whether from Kansas or Kensington, Kyoto or Kuala Lumpur, is bowled over and has to pinch themselves when walking the streets of Manhattan. Everything is so familiar and yet so alien. So quintessentially NYC. The yellow taxi cabs, the long, straight avenues and streets with their uniform coloured traffic lights. The steam pouring out of the manhole covers from the subway. The most famous buildings in the world. It’s lovely to view it all afresh through the starry eyed gaze of your awestruck teenage children.

And then you run into the quirky stuff you want to run into in NYC. A chance encounter with our beloved childhood Sesame Street fave, Elmo, on a street corner. Trump Tower – that terrible golden edifice of vulgar vanity that would, just four years after our visit, act as the backdrop for the Donald’s announcement of his candidacy for the Presidential race. The hobos in Washington Square who, in a bigger, better way than all their homeless and cardboard placarded brethren around the world, have signs which declare they need money for a quest against dragons rather than the more pedestrian reason of merely being hungry.

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The boys were keen to see and experience all that we could. The litany of must sees included Hollister, Times Square, the Empire State, the Rockefeller Center, Central Park, Ground Zero, SoHo, the West Village, the Meatpacking district and all the big attractions. We ran out of time to do the Circle Line or go over Brooklyn Bridge or see the Statue of Liberty. And museums didn’t even feature – except one. The USS Intrepid berthed over on the Hudson river, just opposite the Chocolate Factory, Ogilvy & Mather’s HQ.

Rather than just do more of the obvious, I showed them some of my New York. This mainly consisted of places to eat. A big part of the experience of NYC is the food. You want to sample all that the city has to offer: the bagels, the deli sandwiches, the street hot dog stores, the pizza slices. Dean and Deluca for fresh produce, sugar, spice and all things nice. Delmonico’s, just down the street from our hotel, for early morning breakfast – foil wrapped lox and cream cheese cinnamon bagels and gourmet coffee. The W Hotel for a short stack of American pancakes with maple syrup. Bill’s Bar and Burger, where I once spent a wonderful afternoon supping ice cold beers and watching the greatest tennis match ever played: the Wimbledon final between Nadal and Federer (6–4, 6–4, 6–7, 6–7, 9–7, four hours and 48 minutes, as you ask). Nadal (my favourite) won. The Oyster Bar underneath the main concourse at Grand Central Station for seafood.

We also benefitted from my inside track contacts. The very lovely Lauren Crampsie, head of the Ogilvy NY office, and someone who is incredibly well plugged in to the City scene, got us reservations at the hottest meal ticket in New York: STK in the Meatpacking district. Our car dropped us off in Little West 12th Street. It was night time. The street was deserted. There was no sign of anything, let alone NYC’s most buzzing restaurant. I spotted a largish man outside a doorway. Etched in to the glass was the legend ‘STK’. It was subtle and well hidden. Only for those in the know. I told him we had a reservation and Aladdin’s cave opened up.

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When the door to the magic kingdom opened, there was a rush of noise that assaulted our ears. The boys loved it. I couldn’t get out fast enough.

In the centre of the restaurant was a DJ booth which was an apple branded white and silver podium. The DJ seemed to be playing from a playlist. No vinyl, no CDs, no mix decks. Uber cool. And LOUD. We ordered the steak, which is what they are famous for. The bill was astronomic. Utterly ridiculous. Appalling. (It would never have occurred to Lauren that this might be beyond our budget. She has a metropolitan New Yorker’s assumption that everyone earns at her level.) We were in and out in 45 minutes. Not because they turn the tables fast or want the table back for the next sitting. Because I couldn’t take the noise any more.

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My relief at getting out of the restaurant was palpable. Sam and Josh would have stayed much longer, I am sure. But the smiles on their faces having been to such a hot spot lit up the dark street.

Like so many tourists before, we started early and finished late every day. We had a lot of walking to do – along the sidewalks and also up in the clouds. I don’t know how long the queues are for the Empire State building nowadays but we got up there pretty quickly. We did go at night. And in the day. Which is the way to do it because you get the scale of the city when it’s lit up and as it stretches into the distance through the concrete canyons. And we took the obligatory photos of us with the ESB and all of Manhattan ranged behind us from the Rockefeller Center.

The USS Intrepid took up a half day. It is a terrifically good museum. Sam commented that the Americans do this sort of thing really well and we have no comparable site. We watched the film of the ship’s illustrious history in the main theatre room – the battle of Midway being a particular badge of honour. We sat in the lunar command module that splashed down in the Atlantic after the moon landings. We walked the gangway of Concord. We walked the deck and looked over the legendary aircraft of America’s military might. The Blackbird, the fastest aeroplane in the world. And we went up on the Bridge.

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So much sight seeing requires regular refuelling and we stopped off at a particular favourite of mine: Grand Central Station. The station has the grandest roof of any rail terminus in the world – a teal green backdrop with golden depictions of the constellations of the night sky etched into the curved canopy. And underneath it is a culinary gem. The Oyster Bar. It’s a stalwart of the business lunch crowd. Cream coloured tiles, chrome bar stools, gingham paper tablecloths. It’s not smart – it’s a conveyor belt of mediocre seafood. But I like it and the boys enjoyed it, too.

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Downtown, we went to Ground Zero, which has now been turned into a permanent memorial with a black hole going deep into the ground and a cascade of water falling into it at the footprint of the Twin Towers. It is a sobering place and voices are kept subdued. The boys soaked up this atmosphere and I am glad we made our pilgrimage. The most shocking thing was to see the fire fighters’ helmets and also the extreme things people have done to commemorate this horrific event. There’s a picture of a man with a tattoo depicting the burning towers and scrolls of the legend. It is horrific and powerful at the same time. It would be like carrying Hell around on your back for all your life. Not for me. But so American.

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Our trip to Manhattan was only three days long but we crammed it. Spending time with my children is my favourite thing to do in life. Sharing our enthusiasms, showing them the sights, walking our socks off. Eating. Drinking. A taste of Midtown life. Walking the streets. Cab rides. Laughing, talking, piss taking. New York was just the excuse. Just a backdrop. The real star attractions on this trip were always Josh and Sam.