Secrets of My Hollywood Life #5: Broadway Lights by Jen Calonita Page A
Authors: Jen Calonita
Ads: Link
the air-conditioned car behind Matty and Nadine.
"I still feel weird not driving while we're here," he grumbles, and closes the door for me. He goes up front next to the driver.
"I'm mad that Mom won't let me take the subway, but what are you going to do?" I tell him. My biggest pet peeve with Mom so far is that she won't let me go underground. She'd rather I hoof it, take a taxi, or use a car service (her preference). "There is not enough Purell in the world for me to let you go down there !" she declared when I mentioned getting a MetroCard. Nadine just rolled her eyes at her. She's been taking the subway everywhere, and she says that nine times out of ten it's the quickest way to travel.
"Rod, Seth hired a car service for off hours, and the theater hired Kaitlin one for workdays," Nadine reminds him gently. "It's easier if you don't have a car here. Where would we park?"
"They have garages," he says gruffly, and takes the second Twix out of the wrapper.
"I know, Rod," I say, looking at Nadine worriedly, "but I'd rather not have you waste time trying to park when I need you by my side." New York streets are much more crowded.
Rodney appears to mull it over. "You're right." I think I even see him smile a little, because the sunlight hits his prized gold tooth, making me flinch. Satisfied, Rodney chats up today's driver (unlike Rodney with me in L.A., the driver we have here changes every time). "Hey, how is the mileage on this thing? Are you from the city? Do you know where the nearest Whole Foods is? I need to get my protein shake mix."
Nadine's schedule is dead on, as usual. My camera has been living permanently in my coat pocket this week, so we take pictures of our group at the top of the Empire State Building (where I also pose with tourists) and of me insisting we all stop in Macy's and buy something decent to wear to a Broadway show. (I hate how people dress down these days to see theater!) I buy a cute BCBG chiffon taffy-colored, pleated dress to wear, Matty gets Ralph Lauren khakis and a navy polo shirt, and Nadine even splurges on a Calvin Klein cream sleeveless organza dress that's on sale for $65. Rodney sticks with his own clothes despite our begging him to try on a Michael Kors suit.
Finally, I have a tourist take a picture of us all dressed up outside the Gershwin Theater before we see Wicked . The show is incredible. I've seen the touring production before, but there is something about seeing that time dragon clock and Elphaba flying and Galinda pouting here on Broadway that kicks the magic up to a whole new level. The play flies by and it's all too soon that I'm clutching my Wicked book and staring at the sign on the wall above the exits that says You're Now Leaving Oz. Fly Carefully.
The streets are packed as people spill out of shows on several blocks at the same time, and everywhere you look tourists are smiling and laughing as they walk along or jump into taxis or waiting limos. It's nice to see so many people in one location that aren't a corral of paparazzi. In Los Angeles, you never see this large of a crowd together unless you're leaving Dodgers Stadium or the Kodak Theater. "Can we walk to the restaurant?" I ask Rodney. The high I have from seeing the show has me feeling all wound up and gooey. "It's so nice out."
Rodney looks around skeptically. Other than a group of young girls at twelve o'clock--I heard them debating whether to ask me for an autograph--I don't think anyone else notices or cares that I'm here. It's one of my favorite things about New York so far. The anonymity is a nice change.
Nadine laughs. "Kate, it will take too long if we walk. This is just like the other day when you wanted to walk from the apartment to Topshop--it's too far when we're in a time crunch. We have dinner reservations in forty-five minutes."
I keep forgetting that the city is bigger than it seems. With so many stores near our apartment, it feels like everything is within walking distance, which is not
"I still feel weird not driving while we're here," he grumbles, and closes the door for me. He goes up front next to the driver.
"I'm mad that Mom won't let me take the subway, but what are you going to do?" I tell him. My biggest pet peeve with Mom so far is that she won't let me go underground. She'd rather I hoof it, take a taxi, or use a car service (her preference). "There is not enough Purell in the world for me to let you go down there !" she declared when I mentioned getting a MetroCard. Nadine just rolled her eyes at her. She's been taking the subway everywhere, and she says that nine times out of ten it's the quickest way to travel.
"Rod, Seth hired a car service for off hours, and the theater hired Kaitlin one for workdays," Nadine reminds him gently. "It's easier if you don't have a car here. Where would we park?"
"They have garages," he says gruffly, and takes the second Twix out of the wrapper.
"I know, Rod," I say, looking at Nadine worriedly, "but I'd rather not have you waste time trying to park when I need you by my side." New York streets are much more crowded.
Rodney appears to mull it over. "You're right." I think I even see him smile a little, because the sunlight hits his prized gold tooth, making me flinch. Satisfied, Rodney chats up today's driver (unlike Rodney with me in L.A., the driver we have here changes every time). "Hey, how is the mileage on this thing? Are you from the city? Do you know where the nearest Whole Foods is? I need to get my protein shake mix."
Nadine's schedule is dead on, as usual. My camera has been living permanently in my coat pocket this week, so we take pictures of our group at the top of the Empire State Building (where I also pose with tourists) and of me insisting we all stop in Macy's and buy something decent to wear to a Broadway show. (I hate how people dress down these days to see theater!) I buy a cute BCBG chiffon taffy-colored, pleated dress to wear, Matty gets Ralph Lauren khakis and a navy polo shirt, and Nadine even splurges on a Calvin Klein cream sleeveless organza dress that's on sale for $65. Rodney sticks with his own clothes despite our begging him to try on a Michael Kors suit.
Finally, I have a tourist take a picture of us all dressed up outside the Gershwin Theater before we see Wicked . The show is incredible. I've seen the touring production before, but there is something about seeing that time dragon clock and Elphaba flying and Galinda pouting here on Broadway that kicks the magic up to a whole new level. The play flies by and it's all too soon that I'm clutching my Wicked book and staring at the sign on the wall above the exits that says You're Now Leaving Oz. Fly Carefully.
The streets are packed as people spill out of shows on several blocks at the same time, and everywhere you look tourists are smiling and laughing as they walk along or jump into taxis or waiting limos. It's nice to see so many people in one location that aren't a corral of paparazzi. In Los Angeles, you never see this large of a crowd together unless you're leaving Dodgers Stadium or the Kodak Theater. "Can we walk to the restaurant?" I ask Rodney. The high I have from seeing the show has me feeling all wound up and gooey. "It's so nice out."
Rodney looks around skeptically. Other than a group of young girls at twelve o'clock--I heard them debating whether to ask me for an autograph--I don't think anyone else notices or cares that I'm here. It's one of my favorite things about New York so far. The anonymity is a nice change.
Nadine laughs. "Kate, it will take too long if we walk. This is just like the other day when you wanted to walk from the apartment to Topshop--it's too far when we're in a time crunch. We have dinner reservations in forty-five minutes."
I keep forgetting that the city is bigger than it seems. With so many stores near our apartment, it feels like everything is within walking distance, which is not
Similar Books
