A Fake Heart Attack and Other Fun in NYC

On August 2, 2013, I talked with Michael in a Jersey City hospital.  He had been in the emergency room for four hours.  He had not seen a doctor or nurse for the last two hours, he had chest pains, the EKG machine next to his bed showed his heart rhythms in wild disarray, and his cell phone was going out.  After demanding to talk with the doctor and nurse, who said they weren't sure what was wrong, I hopped a Jet Blue red-eye flight to NYC.  I arrived, at 8 a.m., to see a relaxed and pain-free Michael.  The cardiologist soon appeared.  He said that the problem was that Michael was too healthy, rather than too sick.  Because Michael had been training for a marathon, his heart rate was in the 40s and his body was sending out an extra electric signal to say, "Something's different here."  The chest pains were most likely indigestion, the result of Michael's forays into one Manhattan restaurant after another, as he went through two weeks of training at the Jersey City office of Goldman Sachs for his job in finance. 

 

"Run your marathon.  Have a fun weekend," the cardiologist encouraged Michael.  As Jonny summed up my involvement, "You got to prove to your children you'd go anywhere, anytime, to help them, but you didn't have to do anything when you got there."  Perfect.  Michael and I examined the culture of the hospital and then fled, to enjoy the pleasures of Manhattan.  Michael had asked for something to read, as he whiled away the hours in his hospital room.  He was given the only reading matter around, a romance novel. 

I noticed from the chart on the wall that one of Michael's doctors was Chinese, Dr. Kwon, and the other Indian, Dr. Gandhi.  His nurse was Hispanic, Angelo.  The high number of minorities is typical, now, of inner city medical providers.  Many of them, such as the Indian cardiologist, are excellent. 

I picked up the Jersey City newspaper from a chair and read the screaming headlines about a local scandal involving a bus driver.  I wanted local color and here it was!

 

It is always a great feeling to check out of a hospital.  We headed, on foot, through Jersey City, pausing to admire the Goldman Sachs skyscraper where Michael was trained, the view of Manhattan across the river, and a striking statue erected by Polish residents commemorating the many Poles sent by Russian conquerors to Siberia.  It was a gray, rainy day, but Michael and I were light-hearted, with a free weekend to fill.

 

 

 

We took the subway to Lower Manhattan, where we checked out the American Express building where Michael interned several years ago, and the Goldman Sachs headquarters where Michael met this week with executives for whom he provides financial reporting.  We then dropped our bags off in Michael's posh suite at the Conrad Hotel.  The atrium was even more amazing than my favorite atrium to date, the Hyatt Embarcadero atrium in San Francisco.  (Room photos courtesy of Google Images)

 

 

 

 

Michael was hungry, after a day of hospital food.  We ate brunch at Calle Ocho, a trendy Latin American restaurant on the Upper West Side.  An online review described it as, "the ultimate boozy brunch gold standard: affordable, innovative, delicious!"  Michael and I didn't experience the boozy part, but Calle Ocho was certainly colorful, with brilliant orange wall coverings, spicy pan-Latin American choices, rich desserts, and lovely Latin ladies chatting and eating.  These photos are from Google Images--I was too polite, this early in the trip, to take my own.

 

 

 

 

We walked across Central Park on our way to the Metropolitan Museum of Art.  It was a lazy Saturday morning, with ball games and friends relaxing on the grass.

 

 

The Met is a must-see whenever I am in NYC.  Michael and I spent a couple of hours wandering through the Old Masters, Egyptian collections, and a special exhibit on art of the Civil War.  As we examined the Old Masters paintings, I showed Michael the Murillos and other Spanish religoius paintings I like, and Michael showed me the Canaletto paintings of Venice that are his special favorites.

 

 

 

The Egyptian area was new to Michael. We paused there to enjoy the statues, tombs, and the temple imported, in pieces, from the Middle East.

 

 

The exhibit on Art of the Civil War included paintings by such famous 19th century American painters as Winslow Homer, as well as rare photographs of Abraham Lincoln.

 

 

We stopped by the Times Square ticket booth to buy discounted tickets to "Once," a Tony award-winning musical. 

 

Michael and I ate dinner at Estiatorio Milos, a Greek seafood restaurant in the Theater District.  I enjoyed the pre-theater special--fresh bass grilled with lemon and olive oil, a tangy tomato and feta cheese salad, and walnut cake.

 

 

 

 

"Once" was a story about musicians in Dublin, featuring beautiful ballads and Irish folk music.  It wasn't Michael's and my favorite Broadway show, but we enjoyed it.

Wandering around Times Square after the show was, as always, a delight.  There were preachers, policemen on horseback, a bride in her wedding dress, and limitless tourists, cars, and neon lights.

 

 

 

 

 

On Sunday morning, Michael and I attended Church at a Mormon ward on the Upper East Side.  The Church has developed a special style for ward houses in Manhattan--several stories high, out of red brick.  The Upper East Side and Harlem ward houses are from the same plans, and fit so seamlessly into the neighborhoods that, until I realized there were two identical ward houses, I thought the Church had renovated existing buildings.  Here's the Upper East Side building and the neighborhood into which it fits:

 

 

And here's the Harlem ward house:

 

We rode to Harlem on the subway and walked through its colorful neighborhoods on our way to the iconic Abyssinian Baptist Church.  Harlem is full of both churches and signs with religious messages. 

 

 

 

 

Alas, the Abyssinian Baptist Church was already packed when we got there, half an hour before the services started.  We crossed the street to a Catholic church which had a preacher who sang solos, a choir that shook tambourines, and special recognition by the congregation for members who had graduated from 5th grade, 8th grade, high school, and college.  At one point in the Mass, we held hands with the other parishioners and wished each other peace and happiness.  There was a strong sense of community.

 

 

After our second church meeting of the morning, we headed down the street to Sylvia's for Gospel Brunch.  Sylvia's is the top soul food restaurant in Harlem, and there was a long wait, with the check-in lady juggling long lines and insistent diners.  Michael and I shared platters of fried chicken, ribs, and fried shrimp, with all the "sides"--candied sweet potatoes, mashed potatoes and gravy, macaroni and cheese, and collard greens.  For dessert, we ordered sweet potato pie and peach cobbler.  A blues singer wandered around the restaurant, stopping at each table to ask us where we came from.  She then sang out our home town, "Atlanta in the house," "San Francisco in the house," or, for us, "Salt Lake City in the house."

 

 

 

 

 

We rode the subway back to Midtown Manhattan and spent an hour at MOMA, NYC's modern art museum.  We enjoyed the Picassos, Andy Warhol's Campbell's soup cans, and a special exhibit of works by Claes Oldenburg.  The MOMA Oldenburg exhibit featured upholstered consumer objects, such as pie, hamburgers, and French fries.  Oldenburg has also done iconic sculptures around the country, including a typewriter eraser that I saw, I think, at Seattle's sculpture park.

 

 

 

 

 

Michael and I finished the day with a stroll down the Highline trail in Lower Manhattan.  An elevated train line was converted into an urban park, with a path, sculptures on neighboring buildings, lots of flowers and trees, glimpses between buildings at the harbor beyond, and perches to stretch out on and soak up the sun.