DISCLAIMER: I am having a wonderful time in New York. So, when you read the first part of this entry, understand that my complaining is more for the idea of you getting a flavor of what the abode is like.

"If that's the Happiness Hotel, I'd hate to see what the sad one looks like."
-- Fozzie, The Great Muppet Caper, 1981

I've a few words of advice for those of you who are thinking of staying at the Gershwin Hotel on your next trip to New York.

Don't.

Uh, Michael? You promised us "a few words of advice."

*sighs* All right, wiseguy.

Don't do it. Happy?

While Laura refuses to say she doesn't think we'll ever stay in a worse hotel (and I guess it's true, it could always be worse), I think anyone trying to outshine the Gershwin will have pretty stiff competition.

First, they'll need a nightclub downstairs, which can be heard on the eighth floor. (The folks on the second and third floor aren't hard to spot; they're the ones with bags under their eyes who haven't slept in days.)

Next, they'll need to install a shower with not two but four levers for the operation of the water. FOUR. Explain how that works.

Wait. It just hit me. One of them is ice cold, one is lukewarm, and one is scalding.

And the one on the upper left hand corner -- which Laura and I have both been using -- is the "Combo" button, for when you want a taste of all three.

The good news about the nightclub is that it's drowned out by the radiator kicking in. Seriously, I thought that King Kong had come to visit the Gershwin Hotel to give it some much-needed renovations.

And, when we called the front desk to remark on how loud and unconducive to sleep the radiator was, the desk clerk said, in an exasperated tone, "Sir, that's just the radiator."

A picture of Pablo Picasso -- a LARGE picture of Pablo Picasso -- who looks wide-eyed and alarmed -- overlooks the entire room.

Earlier this evening, the remote control decided it only wanted to control the volume, and that changing channels just wasn't what it was going to do.

We have reached a tenuous peace with it, and no longer have to get up to change the channel every time we want to.

Our beds are on wheels.

Yeah, I said wheels.

The hardwood floor was last stained in the waning days of the Hoover administration.

While the hotel has an Internet provider called celerity, which proclaims that it means "rapidity of motion, swiftness, speed," its unpredictable nature have led Laura and I to dub it variously Hilarity or Rarity.

I'd like to say the Gershwin hotel is a nice place to rest your head and sleep at night.

But, y'know, the radiator and the nightclub kinda killed that one.

***

OK, but, as I said, we are having a marvelous time in New York. Thursday, upon meeting up, Laura and I went to find somewhere to eat. Finding the tallest building in New York City, we decided to eat...in the basement of the Empire State Building!

The Heartland Brewery is an excellent lunch spot. I have had the mushroom ravioli twice and it's very good, and fresh.

We then got in line for TKTS, where you can get reduced-price tickets for shows that haven't sold out. We decided we wanted to see Fiddler on the Roof, which featured Harvey Fierstien and Rosie O'Donnell. (I told Laura we wouldn't be standing in the reduced-price line if I were a rich man.)

But, wonder of wonder, miracle of miracles, we got seats -- good seats. It was a perfect match.

And, as it turned out, Fiddler was spectacular. Well acted and well sung with good music.

Well, then we decided to take a taxi. And here, our luck waned a bit.

First of all, the taxi line was actually more like a wait-in-line-for-the-taxis to show up line. While I thougt taxi drivers would see about two hundred people standing there as a revenue stream, they were obviously thinking of other things. It took forty-five minutes to get a taxi.

Once we got the taxi, we started to wonder if we were going to live. Our taxi driver drove at two speeds: STOPPED and BREAKNECK, and changed lanes in a pattern that would seem random if it wasn't designed to annoy and endanger.

We were quite pleased to arrive at the hotel. (Even if it is the Gerhswin.)

Friday, we walked to Rockefeller Center (after stopping at a nice Italian deli/restaurant...I can never spell that word...) and went through the Radio City Music Hall. Then we went through Barnes & Noble, where we checked out people's darkest secrets in the new PostSecret book. Then we decided we were done sightseeing for the day and decided to come back and decompress.

Even if it was at the Gershwin.

Today, we did shopping, ate lunch, tried to buy tkts, decided not to fight the line, did more shopping, and ordered delivery from a pretty darn good restaurant which I cannot think to spell.

All is well here in New York.

Even if we are at...the Gershwin.