Could someone please explain to me why I’m here:

instead of here:

Last year, I didn’t make it down to New York City to see the tree at Rockefeller Center. I know it’s just a tree, but it’s a fun experience and a good excuse to have a night out in Manhattan.

So this year, I promised myself I’d make it down there. Wednesday was the day … Luis, Paul and I left Poughkeepsie around 6 (after Paul’s class and a quick shower). As we’re cruising down the Taconic, it starts … the rain. I never even thought to check the weather, so we crossed our fingers and hoped it would be short lived or that it was only raining in Westchester and not in the city.

The closer we got, the harder it rained … not the best sign, right?

It gets worse.

Once we crossed the bridge and hit the Henry Hudson Parkway, Luis’s car just died. As in just shut down, no power, no nothing. We coasted into the shoulder (which is hard to do on the Henry Hudson, since much of the highway has no shoulder) and called roadside assistance. We quickly learned that because the Henry Hudson is a “restricted highway,” that we would get a nice tow compliments of the New York City Police Department.

Riding on a flatbed tow truck on the Henry Hudson and the West Side Highway is no picnic.

They towed us to 54th and 12th and left us there to be picked up by a tow truck from Luis’s insurance company. By now, the rain has picked up, and the insurance company says it’ll be about an hour before they arrive. We start looking around to see if we can find a Nissan dealer to leave the car — since it’ll probably need a new alternator. Thanks to the magic of Google SMS, we learn that Nissan of Manhattan is just 3 blocks up on West 57th, so Paul and I wandered up there to check it out.

It moved. To 47th and 11th. So not that far, and at least we knew where to tow the car, right?

Never let people in Wisconsin do roadside assistance for New York City. It’s like they’re totally brainless. After an hour, we get an angry call from the tow company saying, “we’re here … where are you?” After a short shouting match, we realize that we’re both at 54th and 12th … only we’re in Manhattan and the tow truck is in Brooklyn. Nice.

So Paul and I trudged over to the nice, warm McDonald’s on 56th and 8th. I’ve never been so glad to see a bathroom in my life! After a glamorous dinner, we grabbed some more food for Luis and headed back to the car to wait. And wait. And wait.

About 90 minutes later, the tow truck arrived, and we grabbed a taxi to Grand Central just in time to make the 12:10 train back to Poughkeepsie. Whew!

We never did see the tree. Maybe next year.