Lost in NYC

Last Saturday I went into the City for more all-day training at New York Sports Club. The training itself was somewhat uneventful. Actually it went really great because only 3 of us showed up (out of 10) so we got lots of 1:1 instruction and were able to finish earlier than the eight hours we were scheduled to be there. In case you're wondering what the heck I was doing there, I was finishing up my pilates reformer training as I will start teaching my own reformer classes at NYSC starting next week. It's kinda like pilates personal training on a machine/contraption that looks like a torturing device. I love it! The best part about teaching it is that I don't have to DO it; so it is not tiring or hard on my knee, obviously.
Anyhoo, I took the bus into the City and then had to walk a few blocks through Times Square to get to the right subway line. I wasn't sure how many blocks I needed to go so I was actually just standing at a corner wondering to myself, "Where is that darn subway? Where, oh where, could it be? It's got to be around here somewhere. Surely it's close by. Maybe I should check my map..." when I finally just looked up and saw this right in front of me:
Yeah...doesn't get much more obvious than THAT. At least I hadn't stooped so low as to ask someone for help. I would've marked myself as a tourist and instantly alerted every pick-pocket within a two block radius of my presence.

Later, after my training ended early, I decided to run a few errands. I'm a pro at the subway now (with the exception of finding it, apparently) so I was all set to jet about the City, by subway, to all my various destinations. There's one problem with going into the City on a weekend, though. They frig with the subway system. Any and all repairs are done during nights and weekends so service can unexpectedly interrupted, thus confusing us New Jersians to no end. Here's a picture of this weekends "service changes":OK, so did you catch all that? Have you figured out, yet, how to get from downtown to the West Village? No?! I know it's hard because you need a #1 red-line train to get there and there are NO #1 trains south of 14th St. on the weekends now. The #1 red-line is the ONLY train that goes to the West Village. (It's very uppity that way). So now you have to catch another train and go north to 14th St. and then go back south on a red-line #2 or #3 until you get remotely close to where you need to go and then you just have to hoof it. (In the pouring rain, by the way). Oh, but wait, as you're going south on the red-line #3 train an announcement is made over the train's P.A. system. It sounds like the teacher on Charlie Brown with a lot of extra static thrown in for good measure. ::static::mwa mwa mwa mwa service change mwa mwa F train mwa mwa the village mwa mwa mwa mwa::more static.
This didn't actually alarm me 'cause I figured I already knew all I needed to know about service changes for that weekend. No #1 train south of 14th street, blah blah blah. I should have been concerned, however, when everyone got off at the next stop except for me and this guy:Instead I was thinking about how thirsty I was and wondering if he would share some of that Gatorade. At the next stop I figured out what was happening as we were no longer even ON the red-line anymore. We were now on an orange line headed East towards Queens. What the-? Are they allowed to do that? What are the people in Queens going to think when a train pulls up with a red #3 on it instead of an orange F? They're gonna think they died and went to heaven 'cause they're not in Queens anymore. There's no red trains in Queens.
Anyway, I said to myself, forget this, I'm outta here. So I jumped off (after one final swig of Gatorade) and decided I would just walk...in the pouring rain with my broken umbrella. I was smack dab in the middle of Greenwich Village (I knew because I was surrounded by all things gay...including, but not limited to The Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual & Transgender Community Center with it's rainbow flag and then a terrific shoe store).
But I digress. So I'm in Greenwich Village and I need to get to the West Village so which direction do I need to go? In addition to having difficulty finding obvious subway stations, I am apparently impaired in the ability to know which direction I am facing once I ascend out from the underground subway. I can't tell you how many blocks East I walked, but it was A LOT. (Did I mention the pouring rain or the broken umbrella yet)? I tried to very inconspicuously turn around and head West without anyone noticing what a ditzo I was. I tried to make it look totally natural. I almost considered asking for directions as I suddenly pictured my children at home quietly whimpering and praying, "Please, please help Mummy find her way home..."
Then I walked many many many blocks West (passing all things gay again) to the West Village where I finally reached my destination. I'm sure you're wondering by n0w "WHY did she need to go to the West Village SO badly? WHAT could possibly be SO important? WHY WHY WHY?" If you really know me, you'll already know the answer. I'll give you a hint. One word: chocolate.
For those of you who can't quite make out the picture, it says Jacques Torres Chocolate. It's a delightful place and I strongly encourage you to check it out if you're ever in the Village and all the subway trains are running. My friend, Nichole, introduced me to it last Fall. YEA, Nichole! I burned an extra gazillion calories trying to get to that darned store so I figured I'd better indulge a little extra, right?

My navigation back to Times Square was remarkably uneventful, thank heaven, and I took a couple pictures of the military recruiting center that was bombed just a few days before. As you can see, it was no worse off than before. I don't think that place has every been photographed so much!
Note: I hope I don't offend anyone by the statement: all things gay. It was not meant to offend or be derisive in any way. On the contrary, I really liked being in that area. I was surrounded by great looking guys and terrific shoe stores! Also, I would never, ever, steal a homeless person's Gatorade...or would I...?