Long Day's Journey Into Night

Monday was IKEA day and we knew it was going to be a long one. Little did we know. We hailed a cab on 9th Ave and we were on our way to Pier 11. Once we got on the FDR we were flying. You get nice views of the Hudson River, Battery Park, and the Statue of Liberty all at sixty miles per hour. It all abruptly goes to slow motion, however, when Ground Zero comes into focus. I am sure something is happening there but it looks essentially unchanged, a huge construction site, an open sore. I really wanted the cab to speed up and on to our destination.

We settled up with the cab driver and went to the ticket window with time to spare to get the first IKEA ferry of the day. There were about twenty other passengers on the Water Taxi ride with us. It was great weather for this, blue skies and a little crisp. We were treated to wonderful views of the Brooklyn Bridge and the Manhattan skyline. You really can’t see what it looks like when you are in it so this was a treat.

In minutes we were pulling up to the dock and everyone scrambled off the boat for a mad dash to the entrance. I noticed four more IKEA ferry boats were docked for the high traffic days. You really don’t want to try this on a weekend. We went straight to their café for a quick lunch of Swedish Meatballs. It is a good thing we did too as it wound up being a much longer process than we anticipated. We felt pretty well prepared as we had scoured their website a few days earlier and knew what styles and lines we wanted. But even with all of our prep work it still took us six hours to get our order picked out, pulled, paid for, and to arrange for storage and delivery. It was a real marathon.

By the time we were finished the last return Water Taxi was long gone. It was about 9:00 PM when stepped out into the Brooklyn night sky. There were a couple of shuttle buses waiting in front but neither of them went to Manhattan. This area is totally industrial and there were not any familiar Yellow Cabs in sight, in fact there wasn’t any traffic at all. This big guy in a black sport coat asked where we were wanting to go and directed us to a cluster of men near the street. Another well dressed man emerged from the group and with some heavy indistinct accent said, “Forty-nine ninety-five”. With few options I didn’t really feel like haggling. We agreed and were motioned over towards a group of cars on a side street. One pulled up, got us loaded and again, we were off.

This was a “gypsy cab” operation. They operate outside of the New York commission that heavily regulates the Yellow Cabs and limos that are registered. These guys don’t need no stinking medallions. They don’t have meters either. They fill a void that the Yellows won’t serve as they are not lucrative enough, mostly in outlying areas or areas and hours that are considered less safe. Sort of black market cabs if you will. The driver was on his cell the entire trip speaking a Middle Eastern language, but I wasn’t going to say anything about it.

We got back to our corner safe and sound but now we were starving. We were starving as we had not eaten since the Swedish Meatballs. We jumped into the first place we saw. It was an Italian ristorante that we had passed by everyday but took no notice of. But tonight it was close and that is all that mattered. It was very dimly lit and there were three or four groups already dining. We were greeted and seated by the waiter.

The place was very small, no more that twelve feet wide with a row of two chair tables on one wall and tables of four and six on the other side divided by an aisle no wider than what you have on an airplane. The waiter scurried up and down this narrow passage every ten seconds, taking orders, bringing orders, bussing tables, dropping spoons without taking notice. He was a short, portly man sporting a pompadour . He was the only visible help and I began to wonder if he was also the chef. We found out later that his name is Isaac and he is the owner. There were Italian songs playing in the background and as Isaac worked he was humming along and at times nearly singing along under his breath. All the while a flat screen TV was showing some ancient Engelbert Humperdinck concert with the sound off.

Out of the blue Isaac started a little singalong at another table. He was leading the group in Elvis Presley’s “Can’t Help Falling In Love” with a big dramatic solo finish. We were doing our best to pretend to be oblivious to all of this. We just wanted to eat our meals and get back as it was really late. The Humperdinck concert finally ended and after a brief respite our host replaced the DVD with Celine Dion Live In Las Vegas. Ughh. We declined the dessert menu but suddenly Isaac reappeared with a couple of glasses of wine gratis. Our long weird day went on a little longer and we had a few toasts with Isaac and couple of other patrons. We got to our room around eleven and the ferry ride was a distant memory.