The plane ride to New York was the most alcoholic time I’ve ever had in my life. Too bad I’d had nothing to drink.

I knew it was going to be a great time when, as the plane was pulling away from the terminal, the 70-something lady across the aisle from me asked if I had “any of the good stuff” in my carry-on. She obviously missed the fact that we were coming from UTAH, land of the sober.

By the middle of the flight, all six people in my immediate vicinity were tipsy. Hurray for the mini-bottles. The most interesting part was that five of the six were well over 60 years old.

My favorite experience was when the flight attendant came by and my previously mentioned elderly neighbor asked for orange juice to accompany the Jack Daniels she’d asked for early on. After she got a full glass I felt *tap tap tap* on my shoulder and heard, in the most perfect gravelly smoker’s voice, “D’ya want some orange juice sweetie? That stewardess gave me a whole fuckin’ glass, and I just wanted a drop with my Jack.”

“That stewardess” happened to be talking to me at the time, and heard the whole exchange. It was lovely. I politely declined the juice, by the way.

So, I came to New York to surprise a friend for her birthday. The surprise was a great success; in fact, I think all of Columbia student housing heard her scream when she walked in to find me there with another friend she knew was coming.

We’ve had lots of fun for the past two days. I’ve hit about half my favorite NYC restaurants, which means more good food is on its way. Whenever I come to Manhattan, I spend the majority of my time walking from eating establishment to eating establishment. Of course, I shop along the way. What more do you need than food and shopping?

Oh, okay: Men.

But, it’s New York, so I’m sure you can shop for that, too.