New York. A Return.

---

After traveling for seven richly filled months, the idea of a return home for a break appealed to me. I missed my friends and family. I could get a rest, save some money, be home for Thanksgiving, the presidential election, and even celebrate the most important day of the year, Halloween. When I landed at JFK, my mother and sister Sara were there to excitedly greet me. As we drove from the airport and I received a debriefing on the classified intricate state of political affairs in my mother’s office, I looked out the window and viewed the approaching New York skyline. It felt surreal.

One of the central elements of this return was that except for my family, no one knew I was coming home. My brother and I had discussed the idea of specifically being home for Halloween, but not telling anyone I would be there. I could then wear a costume to a party and surprise a number of my friends. The scheme was too sinister and compelling to pass up. When I put my bags down in my brother’s Manhattan apartment, which would become my address for the next two months, he presented a welcome-home gift of a gorilla suit.

Halloween was in two days. Since I didn’t want to risk spoiling the surprise, I couldn’t tell anyone I was back. I even sent out emails pretending I was still in Dublin and commented on the weather there. I walked the New York streets alone ushering in a diet of pizza, hot dogs, and bagels. I reestablished my cell phone, but couldn’t call anyone. The streets were all familiar. I knew the subway, the buildings, the money, the language, and the culture, but I felt like a ghost. I couldn’t wait for those couple of days to be over.

Hosting a Halloween party was always a tradition and a thrill of mine. Since I wouldn’t be around to do it this year, my friends Kathleen and Stacy graciously embraced the privilege. I arrived to their party late, totally disguised as the mysterious gorilla. My brother, sister, and brother’s girlfriend Alice were the only ones who knew who I truly was. Alice introduced me to the people of the party as her visiting cousin Ricky and in private added that she had been reluctant to bring me to the party because I was an “alcoholic” and a “weirdo.” Walking around that party was one of the strangest feelings I have ever experienced. I was hiding in this gorilla suit pretending to be someone else, while watching my friends interact whom I hadn’t seen in seven months and who thought I was still four thousand miles away. To play up my “weirdo” reputation, I sat by myself on the couch, I went to the window and stroked it with my gorilla hand, and uninvited, tried to position myself into as many peoples’ pictures as I could. My friend Sanjay got annoyed when I took a picture with his wife Parul and would tell another later, “I thought the gorilla guy was a bit of an as*hole.”

After a considerable time roaming around the party and tiring of going into the bathroom to remove my mask in order to drink my beer, I decided it was time to reveal myself. I went to the center of the living room and deliberately fell on the floor. A number of heads turned and a few people attempted to aide me as I heard, “Whoa! Help that guy up.” I pushed them away, stood, and then growled as loud as I could. I swayed my head back and forth while making what I determined were gorilla noises as the room stared at me dumbfounded. I then paused and removed my mask.

I expected to hear an uproar, but was met with dead silence. Around the room, I stared into numerous sets of confused eyes. Everyone seemed to have a perplexed look that said, “Wait a minute. This doesn’t make sense. I think I know that guy?” I guess I failed to account for the fact that everyone had been drinking for hours and that I did look a little different with a new haircut and beard. After a five second delay that felt like a lifetime, in exasperation I announced, “Hey! It’s me!” Then as if I had just snapped the room out of a trance, I heard the cheers I had originally expected.

The smiles and hugs were plentiful at this party now turned reunion. The general consensus was that of shock and high marks were given for the conspiracy that was pulled off. All were anxious to ask questions, celebrate, and share stories. I felt like a weight had been lifted and for the first time home I was free. Lying, withholding information, and pretending to be someone else is a strange and unnatural state to maintain. I think I now better understand the psychological burden escaped convicts carry, as well as probably the psychological burden of an escaped gorilla from the zoo. True to form, I danced and drank my gorilla butt off and then promptly passed out on their couch.

One of the main reasons I came back to New York was to get a rest and this is precisely what I did not get. Free now to be Edward Hadad and alert everyone that I was home, the invitations just seemed to keep coming. I was probably kidding myself when I thought being back was going to be a time of relaxation. My schedule filled with dinners, lunches, brunches, drinks, parties for the holidays, for the election, for Festivus, for bachelors, for birthdays, and a for quite a number of office parties I probably didn’t belong at. For the first time since I resigned from my job, I actually had to keep a planner. I felt very loved.

My home base was my brother Charles’s apartment. Besides a free place to stay, he provided free access to the gym, free transit checks, and free passes to museums. On top of this, most mornings the guy even made me coffee. The only task I had to complete was to occasionally do the dishes. There was no need to play the lotto when I already had won this jackpot. I broke my time up there with numerous excursions to my parents’ house in Westchester where I also received five star treatment along with meals fit for a king. My original plan was to stay in New York for a month through Thanksgiving and then head to India. I was enjoying such a good situation I was tempted to remain longer just as the attacks occurred in Mumbai. A decision to postpone India for a while and extend my stay another month through Christmas became easy.

One particularly noteworthy night was a trip over to Pier 60 in Chelsea where my friend Rob Chessin is a chef. Joe Torre, the former manager of the Yankees, was holding his annual foundation charity dinner for about 700 paying guests. The 1998 Yankees were present to speak about that historic season and mingle with guests. Jon Bon Jovi was also there to perform a private concert. Rob invited me and our other friend Jarrod to the dinner, explaining he could grant us access for free through the kitchen entrance.

When we arrived, there was heavy security at the front door, but reminiscent from a scene in Swingers, we simply walked through the various side corridors and hallways on through to the kitchen. What Rob didn’t tell us was that he wanted us to help with the organization of preparing the entree. He claimed, “it would be fun.” Jarrod and I knew there had to be some catch to this night. We laughed and yielded, “Fine. Whatever you say.” After Rob gave us kitchen attire to wear, he led us to an office and instructed us to stay there until it was time to ready the main course and to not enter the party until he said it was ok. He then left the room.

Jarrod and I promptly left the office and went right into the party. There was a cocktail hour taking place along with a silent auction with various prizes spread around the room. Yankees General Manager Brian Cashman was eyeing a certificate for a round of golf at Augusta when I gave him a nod. Jarrod and I stood by the doorway and surveyed the room eyeing the various athletes, celebrities, and New York elite from Derek Jeter to Penny Marshal to Lorraine Bracco. Purporting to be chefs, we even took a proud posture as if we were lords of this manor and all of these people were on our turf. Rob appeared out of nowhere, “What are you doing out here! I told you two to stay in the office. The event coordinator just asked me who you guys were. You are wearing chef’s attire in the party and this looks very unprofessional!”

Scolded like two school kids, we were escorted back to the office to await further instructions. With nothing else to do, however, Jarrod picked up a bottle of Cabernet that was in the office. We opened it and took turns taking swigs as other members of the kitchen staff, who had no idea who we were, came and went giving us confused looks. Rob returned as Jarrod was in the middle of tilting back the bottle. “What is wrong with you guys! Seriously, are you trying to make me look bad? There are chefs who don’t know who you are, but you are wearing Pier 60 attire and drinking? God, at least pour the wine in a cup!” We were now in serious detention. We promised to behave. Rob and Jarrod are from the same town and the three of us all went to college together. The two of them have always shared an almost brotherly relationship where snapping at each other was an act of love. Rob left the room again, but flashed us a smirk indicating he was relishing his role as authority figure.

Eventually the time came to organize the main course. In a span of less than 15 minutes 700 filet mignons would need to be readied in a process called the “plate-out.” The kitchen was organized into four lines, with each member of the kitchen staff given a specific duty to perform. It was important to know your role and stay out of the way of the others with hundreds of hot dishes and sharp kitchen instruments flying through the tight space. Jarrod and I were both given the same job on different lines. We were to receive the plate which would already have the steak and sides placed on it by others, and like an assembly line, we were to place a handful of fried yams onto a bed of potatoes. Being the last position on the line, we would then pass the plate to one of 30 members of the wait staff who would then go deliver the dinner to Mariano Rivera or Bob Costas or Katie Couric.

Through a radio, Rob received the call from the event manager that Joe Torre had finished his remarks and it was time for the main course. Rob announced to the kitchen, “Go!” This call initiated a frenzy of activity as all the members of the kitchen staff began to fastidiously perform their duties. One person would retrieve the steaks from the ovens, another placed the sauce, then the potatoes, the greens, another to refill the different components on each line, then came our yams. Rob was like a general in an army as he surveyed the activity of the kitchen. “That steak is overcooked! Get that one out of there! We need more potatoes on line three! Move!” I had never really seen one of my friends at work before, let alone directing 25 people what to do. I was impressed.

I would receive the plate, grab a handful of yams from a large tray and then gently place them down on the potatoes. I would then swiftly, but carefully move the plate into position for a member of the wait staff to take. I must admit, I got a bit of rush from this whole procedure. I had never seen a kitchen in action like this before, let alone be a part of it. Rob was right, it was fun. At one point, Rob inspected Jarrod’s yam placement and yelled, “You’re doing it too hard! They are scattering everywhere!” Jarrod, a financial adviser and recent father, helplessly pleaded, “I’m sorry! How am I supposed to do it?” Rob snapped back, “Just watch Ed!” I shook my head and muttered over to him, “Amateur.”

After 15 harrowing minutes, all the plates had been whisked into the dining room and our work was done. Rob shut down the lines and complemented the entire crew on a job well done. We took off our kitchen attire and then joined the party. The 1998 Yankees, which some consider the best baseball team ever assembled, sat on a panel and told stories about the World Series winning season. Jon Bon Jovi then took over and performed a private concert for the room. We drank cocktails and bragged that we weren’t with the band, “We were with the chef.”

Later that night we ended up in a bar on the west side. Jarrod and I told Rob that seeing the Yankees and Bon Jovi was a great time, but the best part of the evening by far was in the kitchen. We were both so impressed with his skills and the respect that everyone on the staff gave him. Feeling reflective and triumphant, Jarrod then remarked, “You know if it wasn’t for me, tonight Joe Torre would have went yam-less.”

I experienced so many great encounters reuniting with people that if I were to detail all of them I’d run out of disk space. From raucous parties to meeting for simple lunches I took great pleasure in just spending time with so many familiar faces. Mitch and Aubrey held a party for the President and a party as a salute to the Costanzas. Sara and her roommates Liz and Tasha hosted another one of their fine Upper West Side keggers. Ben Wines and his fiancé Lauren unveiled their new house to half of New York State. Dinners with so many of you from New York steak, to Chinese, to Indian, to Thai, to Mexican, to French fondue across all neighborhoods of the city. Happy Hours, pancake breakfasts, movies and good old American football-viewing hot wing-eating Sundays. I never had any doubt that I had an abundance of great people in my life, but going away and then coming home reinforced this belief over and over.

Being in the Greatest City In The World, I also spent my time visiting places like the Statue of Liberty, Ellis Island, a taping of The Daily Show, some concerts, some plays, and stops at numerous landmarks. Returning to New York after seeing so many different cities gave me a refreshed point-of-view. This big place is so full of life and options and opportunities around every corner that sometimes you need to go away to fully appreciate what you’ve got.

I spent a solitary day roaming around MoMa, which I hadn’t been to in years. I am no real connoisseur of art, but I am capable of recognizing that that place is exceptional. A Canadian friend I met in France turned me on to his technique of visiting museums alone while listening to an iPod. I wandered around the building at my own pace viewing the Picassos, Van Goghs, Warhols, Pollocks, and others just mesmerized. After a few hours when I exited out on 53rd Street, I was still so captivated I almost forgot where I was.


A Few Funny Things Said By Funny People:

On a trip over to Ellis Island the time approached 5:30PM and darkness started to descend. A line formed to board the ferry, but there was a number of people still milling about. One of the deck hands yelled out to the crowd:
Deck Hand: You people better catch this last ferry or you’re gonna have to Michael Phelps it back to Manhattan.

One day walking along 8th Avenue, a man who was intoxicated held a placard pleading for money so that he could buy alcohol, which he clearly did not need. As Rob and I passed him, he interrupted us to request, “Change for Beer?” Rob turned and told him:
Rob: I can’t give you any change…we’re in a recession!

As I sat in my parents’ living room working on my Ireland blog photo captions, I wanted to use the word “bosom,” but was unsure if it was pluralized. I asked my father, who is a grammatical authority, who believed it remained singular. He then volunteered:
Dad: I’ll go look up “bosom.” It would do me good.

My family went to see the play Catch 22 down in the Village. There was a sign in the lobby informing the ticket holders that during the performance there would be a full-frontal male nude scene.
Dad: A male? That’s not a nude scene.

In the same play later on there was a sex scene. The actors were clothed and under a sheet and the total act was completed in about 12 seconds. My father, who cannot sit through any performance without a running commentary, nudged me to remark:
Dad: I didn’t realize it could last that long.

My mother wanted my brother and I to put Christmas lights up on the tree in the front yard. It was freezing and I didn’t want to go out, so I countered that, due to the energy costs, perhaps we should skip a year of Christmas lights, for they were, in essence just a drain of energy. She pondered this for a moment before responding:
Mom: Um. No.

After our Joe Torre/Bon Jovi event, Rob, Jarrod and I ended up at a karaoke place in Koreatown. Shortly after we arrived, some guy started singing Dead Or Alive.
Jarrod: (announced to a group of girls). The real version is sooo much better. We just saw Bon Jovi sing this an hour ago.
Random Girl: (rolls her eyes and dismisses him like an idiot) Yeah. Whatever.

On Christmas my father took a sip a of one of his signature martinis and glanced at his watch:
Dad: It’s 6PM on Christmas Day and I’m still standing. That’s a good sign.

I had been living for free in my brother’s apartment for a whole month when I told him I thought it was time for me to head to Asia:
Ed: I think I will book a ticket and head back out on the road soon.
Charles: Oh really? I was thinking you should stay longer. That went really quickly.
Ed: You don’t mind me living here? You’re not going to get sick of me?
Charles: No, not at all, stay as long as you want.

So I ended up staying for another whole month. And after a total of two months, again, I told him I was thinking about heading to Asia:
Ed: I think I will book a ticket and head out soon.
Charles: Yeah. I think that’s a good idea.

I was sitting on the couch at my friend Mike Hyman’s apartment as he flipped through the channels. He stopped on an episode of Entourage for a few moments.
Mike: You know what, you should be an actor. Chessin could be Turtle, Chuck would be E, McClellan, well he could be Drama,…and I’ll be Ari! (He played out the fantasy in his mind for a moment. Then the smile dropped from his face as he continued) The only problem is…you’re not a f*cking movie star.


I was here to elect a new President, eat turkey on Thanksgiving, ham on Christmas, and drink champagne on New Year’s. I discovered that coming home was not a break, but another unique component of this grand adventure I’ve embarked on. I’ve been to some wonderful places on this trip and have received some incredible generosity and hospitality. And New York has led the pack. It’s a big and beautiful world out there, and for the next few months I will continue seeing other regions. But when it’s time to wrap up this epic journey, it’s reassuring to know that I’ll be returning to such an exceptional place.


General Notes and Thoughts:

-If you go for a bar crawl on a Tuesday afternoon through the Lower East Side, you will undoubtedly come across some interesting individuals.

-The subway systems of the world’s major cities are, on average, pretty clean places. While standing in Berlin, I remember thinking, “Wow, our subway is so dirty compared to this, it’s ridiculous.” But when I got home my reaction was, “You know what, this isn’t as bad as I had remembered it.”

-Our rivers are so much bigger than everyone else’s. Paris, Berlin, Dublin, Brussels; they have mere creeks.

-Not having to use a power converter every time you want to plug something in is nice. Not having to carry a map every time you walk out the door is nice. Not having to mentally convert every purchase into dollars is also nice.

-I love it in December when there are Christmas trees for sale on every corner of Manhattan. As you walk down the street, it smells like you are walking through a forest. (Then maybe through a dog latrine, but then through a forest again.)

-Skype is a free telephone service over the internet. If you have a camera on your computer, you can even have a free video conference. One night when a number of my friends in Paris got together they called me on Skype and then put the computer on the dinner table for a while. Even though I was in Manhattan, I just hung out, watched them eat and chatted like I was there. That was cool.

-I don’t know if anyone noticed, but the width of all the newspapers has reduced since last Spring.

-There are few things in life better than a fireplace. If you have access to a fireplace in the winter and a hammock in the summer, you’re doing quite well.

-I planned to, but never made it to the top of Rockefeller Center. I did make it to the bottom though.

-I believe that watching a whole season of a TV show in one sitting is preferable to the traditional way.

-Not having dental insurance is awful. I had to pay $175 for a cleaning and endure hearing about my dentist’s trip to Bermuda. That’s just not fair.

-If we hung out and I didn’t get a picture of you, please don’t be mad at me. I didn’t always have my camera. There were many of you. You are no less important.

---