In the last 48 hours, I’ve run all over Midtown — both figuratively and literally — as I went to 10 meetings in 2 days here in New York with a couple of my co-workers.  But let’s rewind to the beginning because you don’t really care about that part.

First of all, Virgin America:  Eff yeah.  The flight was great, the airline was amazing, and I will recommend it to everyone.  There’s a TV screen at every seat with satellite TV, pay-per-view movies, it’s a touchscreen so you can play games on it, they have an impressive collection of MP3s onboard that you can use to build a personal playlist, and there’s a seat-to-seat instant messenger chat system that my co-worker and I were using to talk to each other 15 rows away from each other.  And my co-worker also said that she ordered food using the touchscreen and swiped her card through the reader below the screen, which arrived at her seat before she even had a chance to put her credit card away.  The best part was the power plugs at every seat, and they are actual two-prong plugs like the ones in your wall at home, so I watched two movies off my laptop, which I kept running and fully-charged for the entire 5 1/2-hour flight.

Then the comedy of errors ensued.  We checked into the Crowne Plaza in Times Square, only to be told that their computers were down and it would be a little bit while they got rooms for us.  While we were waiting, I overheard the woman standing at the counter next to me checking out and mentioning something about the water, so I asked one of the employees about it — had I not asked, they might not have told us outright that due to renovations at the hotel, they were shutting off the water to all rooms every day between 9am-4pm.  Oh great.  Then my co-worker finally got her room, and I was told I’d have to wait another hour until something freed up for me.  Ugh.  So I ran out and got a quick bite to eat, and when I got back, I was finally given a room with 10 minutes to clean up before my first meeting.  I ran up to the room to dash through the shower, only to find that the HVAC unit was making such loud noises that it sounded like someone was standing in the wall playing a washboard.  Needless to say, when we returned from our meetings and dinner, I went over to the Doubletree down the street, told them our difficulties and asked if they could match the rate we were paying at the Crowne Plaza, which was $40 less a night than the Doubletree’s.  They did, and I checked us both out of the Crowne Plaza and into the Doubletree.  It’s all good here, with the warm freshly baked chocolate chip cookies they gave us every night and the fact that we’re in friggin’ suites — I’m stretched out on the couch in the living room watching TV here, with the remains of my dinner in the fridge so I can tackle them tomorrow.  I made my requisite trip up to the Carnegie Deli to pay homage to my people and enjoy some Jewish soul food, and now I’m waiting for my friend to call to put in some drinking time.  It couldn’t get any better.

Tomorrow, I commandeer a car and make the pilgrimage up to Connecticut to see my old hometown — and my old house.  One of our neighbors, who’s still living two doors up, asked the current residents if they’d mind if I stopped by and they gave me a quick tour.  To say it’s going to be a little strange is an understatement, but the call of my past was too strong.  The last time I was in Connecticut, I didn’t have time to go, and the fact that I was 45 minutes away from my old hometown and couldn’t go felt very, very strange and was a little depressing.