We've Reached the Core of the Apple

Saturday dawned cool and sunny. Although we had a paid pass for the tour bus again, Lar was most excited about the upcoming Tartan Day Parade. He’d brought along his tartan vest and trousers and was set to be on hand for the festivities. After another EuropaCafe breakfast, we chatted with a NYC cop who filled us in on where to be and when to be there and then we strolled a bit, enjoying the sun.
We crossed the street to Rockefeller Center, headed for the “Top of the Rock.” While on the top, with the incredible view, we met a number of folks from around the world, including one gentleman now from Australia, but upon hearing him speak, we knew that was not his homeland. He confessed to being from Scotland and his last name is Davidson – no doubt a relative! He hadn’t known about the parade, and when Lar told him about it, he and his children were really excited to attend. It was so clear, we could not have had a better day for this visit to the Rock.
After all that fresh air, we toured the interior of the building until 2 PM which we’d been advised to be on hand for the parade at 6th Ave.

The parade was such fun. We were standing curbside when a lady approached us with a Scottish flag, commented on how great Lar looked in his tartan and gave him the flag for us to hold over the police barrier. We were honored to do so. All of New York was Scottish for a couple of hours that day…. every tartan you could think of was represented, Scotties, pipers, drummers – and lots of cheering. Finally we saw the MacKays represented…one lone lady…when we shouted “Clan MacKay!” she waved – I think she was a bit taken back and pleased that we pronounced it correctly!
At the end of the parade, following three women on horseback were representatives of the NYC Department of Sanitation. They were just quietly walking along and it struck me how important their job is yet no one was paying them any mind. I began to applaud and call out and at once, Lar and then others picked it up and you could hear them being hailed as they proceeded down the blocks. They were smiling and bowing and feeling pretty good about themselves. I loved it! “Guid fur them.”
After the parade we walked up 6th Street to 52nd Street and walked about a block and one half to Gallagher’s for an early dinner. Again, a recommendation by our dear friend Bill, Gallagher’s is an old-timey steak place….if there should be any doubt, check out their entrance….front window and as you walk into the restaurant….meat, meat, meat…hanging inside a windowed refrigeration room….very unusual. Bill’s Grandfather’s picture hangs along with what must be thousands throughout the restaurant, and since we’d no idea where to look, we probably didn’t see him! Lar loved all the old baseball players’ pictures around him….perfect table for the man. We had a very leisurely meal, savoring every bite.
We enjoyed our stroll back, and lingered around the skating rink, soaking up the atmosphere, hoping to have it last a while once we’d gone home the next day.
In the morning we had a buffet breakfast in the hotel restaurant and took a bit of extra time to enjoy the view…stepped out onto the open air area to snap a few photos…and then the sad task of packing up to leave.
We were advised to go up to 5th Ave to get a cab, which we did. We got one immediately, and our driver was a young man who, we were surprised to learn has only been on the job one month – he was expert at NYC traffic!-and he is in this country going to school. And so we were summarily dropped at Penn Station where shock set in. We’ve sent a few guests off on the train, with directions on going to Penn Station for the return trip, but we never had any idea what we’d sent them to! The place is just chock-a-block with people, very little in the way of signage…we felt like we might never figure it all out. A kind stranger almost immediately noticed and on the run directed us to the ticket seller we needed. But then after we had the tickets, we found the muffled announcements impossible to understand, and none of the posted departures looked like the one we wanted. Again, from out of the blue, a lady next to us said – on the run – “follow me, that’s where I am going!” I don’t know where we’d be – so often – without that famous kindness of strangers. And so we got onto the train, were lulled almost to sleep and before we knew it, were back at our car and on the way home.
Lovely trip.
Can’t wait to go again.
It has become almost cliché to hear of the indifference of New Yorkers. You hear that too about the Scots and the English. Lar and I have yet to be convinced of this….we’ve had total strangers come out of crowds like emissaries, bent upon assistance to us, and while we know the personality of crowds can take on a mindless sense of purpose – getting where they are going, focused on some distant point, those same crowds are made up of mothers, fathers, aunts, uncles….people who actually care, people who have a heart. They are good and decent and we don’t ever forget each and every one of them who have leant a hand, a kind word, a thoughtful gesture. You know who you are, out there, and we love you!