I did some quality blognobbing while in New York. Meeting bloggers always turns out to be the highlight of my travels. Aye, even better than the food!
When I started blogging in 2000 people would gasp in horror if you mentioned meeting Internet Folk. Axe murderers! Unwashed nerds! But now everyone spews their guts online so it's cool.
Gareth has come to enjoy tagging along, too. We rock up to our destination and he says with infinite patience, "Any appointments? What stranger are we dining with this evening?"
Seems Brooklyn is where the bloggers are at; we spent half our time over there. On our second night we met up with Pamela in Park Slope. We've been blog buddies for yonks and finally met at BlogHer last year, so I was dead chuffed to see her again.
We started off with a spot of neighbourhood window shopping. I fell in love with a robot sculpture in a hipster boutique – it had a ye olde box camera for a body and flash bulbs for eyes. But it was $600, dammit. We also rummaged through vintage clothing shops, in which I realised I'd need to drop at least another twenty pounds for vintage clothing to be really viable. Then I decided I couldn't be arsed and would just have to stick to H&M.
Soon we were joined by Michael, Pamela's dashing Scottish husband. Pamela had planned a fine evening of venue-hopping for us. First we went to a groovy bar for a drink. We seated Gareth and Michael together so they could yap in their wacko accents while Pamela and I gossiped about blogs and other important matters. Then we had some oysters! My very first and quite tasty.
Then we made a detour to Chez Pamela to say hello to her kidlets. I got to hold gorgeous baby Rory while three year old Calum impressed us with his toy crane-driving skills and jumping-off-coffee-table athleticism.
Next stop was dinner at a Mexican restaurant. The food was delicious and so were the margaritas. I forgot that tequila makes me completely rat-arsed, until I heard myself laughing in that horrible loud BWWAARRR HAARR HARRR table-slapping kind of way.
By the time we moved down the street for pudding, the jetlag and alcohol combo had taken hold. My legs and brain felt wild and wobbly and I clung to Doctor G to stay upright. He didn't realise I was pished; he just thought I'd gone choc-o-mental because Pamela had brought us to The Chocolate Room – a chocolate boutique and dessert café. Hubba hubba. What a concept!
Michael had a selection of chocolates while Pamela, Gareth and I all went for the chocolate brownie sundae. Oh lordy, it was so good. A fudgy brownie with a slightly crusty exterior, delicious vanilla ice cream, deeply-chocolately-without-being-sugary fudge sauce, all topped with a plop of whipped cream. Oh. Yeahhh. I took a photo for you all, but in my excitment I blinded it with flash. There's a more accurate portrait on the Chocolate Room website.
This was washed down with a fine glass of port, #2 on the list of Drinks That Make Me The Most Spannered. Gareth had a seriously hardcore Black Chocolate Stout from his beloved Brooklyn Brewery. It made Guinness look like tap water – inky, thick and reeking of Marmite and cocoa.
It was a great ol' night. Pamela is such a good egg; so lovely to talk to. I quizzed her and Michael about how they met; a grand trans-Atlantic tale of romance, complete with marriage proposal on a rainy Scottish hilltop. Swoon!
Finally we said our goodbyes and Dr G and I jumped on the train and rambled all the way back to Manhattan. Weren't they nice, wasn't that cool, how about that chocklit, bless the internets, why can't we just do this all day long instead of WORK and all that?
Crikey it's time for bed, I'll wind it up for now. Hope your week is going well, comrades!