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The Red and Black W»»k»nd ♦ Friday. March 5. 1993 » 3
Tired of the same old people and places?
Heading away from the beach can make for an exciting spring break
By MAURA CORRIGAN
Staff Writer
It was sophomore year, spring
break was just a month away, and
I had no plans.
Freshman year was the year of
the Florida thing, a trip that just
couldn’t be repeated.
Something new was on the hori
zon, and I knew it would be good.
So on a rainy February night, I
was chatting with my pal Kristy
(who - sob! - left Athens for
Hawaii last year), and New York
came into the conversation.
Hell, one of my best friends,
Karen, was a freshman at New
York University, so why not?
We had a place to stay, a per
sonal tour guide and a car to take
us up there.
The plan began to take form.
Kristy’s parents lived in Manassas,
Va., one of the many towns in the
outskirts of D.C.
We could go to Virginia, spend
some time relaxing at the house
with the folks, take a day trip to
D.C. and then journey north on the
Jersey Turnpike!
So after we finished our exams,
we began the 10-hour trek to
■ ROADTRIPPING
Manassas in the *poo-car" (a '79
Dataun, I believe). Our only scare
occurred when we stopped at a gas
station in Virginia and the car
wouldn’t restart, but with a little
jiggling of the alternator, every
thing was fine.
During our stay in Manassas we
took a day trip to the historical city
of Alexandria, a very quaint, his
torical town near D.C., and went to
the district one day where we jour
neyed through the National
Gallery of Art and later watched
the sun setting on the Potomac.
Fortunately, Kristy’s mom
worked for AAA Insurance, and
they gave us a very detailed map of
New York City.
Armed with our map, the poo-
car and a little bit of paranoia
about being mugged or attacked,
we headed for the big city.
It was about 2 p.m. when we ar
rived in Manhattan - I as the nav
igator and Kristy as the driver.
We were on the south side of the
island and had to maneuver to 35
5th St.
Through honking yellow taxi
cabs, swarms of traffic and lots of
crazy people, we finally made it to
a parking garage in the vicinity of
Karen’s place. And we’d wily got
ten turned around twice!
It was the nicest day the city
had seen so far during 1991, ac
cording to Karen, and hoards of
people were gathered at
Washington Square - Rastas, NYU
college students, the pretzel sales
man, pseudo-musicians and other
sundries.
We journeyed through the
Village, stopped off at a Mexican
restaurant and were basically
overwhelmed.
That night we scurried through
town - four women walking alone
and two of us belting out Ethel
Merman tunes at the top of our
lungs.
We were walking with attitudes
and a sense of direction, so we were
safe. That’s really what you need to
do when you go to New York - look
like you know what you’re doing
and where you’re going; then no
body will mess with you.
We passed through streets
smelling of urine, lots of trash,
junk salesmen who were still out at
2 a.m. and a few drug peddlers and
other shady characters.
But we made it to the bar, to a
late-night pizza joint and back
with no cuts, bruises or assaults.
The next day Karen had class,
so Kristy and I ventured out on our
own.
We had no set plan; we just
wanted to make it to the
Metropolitan Museum of Art. So
we started heading north around
noon and tried to figure out the
subway system, but we ended up
walking most of the way.
Armed with our map,
the poo-car and a little
bit of paranoia about
being mugged or at
tacked, we headed for
the big city.
Somehow we found ourselves in
the middle of Central Park right by
the John Lennon memorials.
Pretty cool, even on a rainy day.
We got a little lost and ended up
reaching the MET after it closed,
which was a bit of a shame. But we
found the FAO Schwartz toy store,
visited many overpriced stores
with funky clothing and ate matza
ball soup at a deli on 57th street.
Not the best thing I’ve ever tasted,
but pretty healthy, I suppose.
That evening on our way back to
Karen’s we walked down Broadway
and saw all of the people who ac
tually had money to go see shows.
We also almost got lost: Broadway
twists and turns through the city
and can lead you into dark alley-
ways if you’re not careful.
We finally made it back to
Keren’s around 8 p.m., rested for
about an hour and then were back
out on the town.
We found ourselves in a bar
where drummer Jeff Watts of
Branford Marsalis’s jazz band was
jamming with a quartet, and then
we went to the best coffee/dessert
cafe that I’ve ever been to. It was
playing Italian opera music.
And so our last night in the city
ended.
Although our visit was pretty
short and we didn’t hit all of the
top tourist spots (not a priority), we
crammed in plenty of activities
over the two days to give us a good
taste of the city.
And I must say that I liked it.
We rolled out of bed the next
morning, ready to head back to
Manassas, and it was snowing.
Just two days before, it had been in
the 70s. Sounds like Georgia.
After eating the best bagel I’ve
ever had in my life and paying the
$34 to get out of the parking
garage (it cost $17 per day), we
went home.
It was Easter eve, so Kristy’s
parents took us out to dinner at a
seafood restaurant on the Potomac.
And later while sitting at the bar,
we watched the Duke basketball
team win the NCAA championship.
So it was back to Athens on
Sunday, and classes started on
Monday.
For a couple of weeks I yearned
to be back in the city, but then I got
used to Athens again.
I have made it back three times
since then. Because...I love New
York in June, how’s about you?
And now, two years later, I once
again have no definite plans for
spring break, and it’s already
March. Hopefully spontaneity will
creep into my soul again, and 111
end up doing something cool.
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