Life as it unfolds with all its surprises….
Climbing into bed, saw movement outside my window. Shocked at first, as the moon, catching the silver balloon in it’s light, was reflecting it into my room. Looking more closely, could see, just above my curtain, the two balloons stuck in the branches of the tree.
Certainly a more pleasant view than the two plastic bags stuck in the tree outside my neighbor’s window. Grateful for small favors.
$75,000 per night. The price for the penthouse hotel suite at the Mark Hotel. Since 2008 the price tag to purchase it as an apartment has been 60 million with 45K per month maintenance but no takers. Now The Mark has redone it into a 5 bedroom, 6th bath hotel suite.
More information needed? Themarkhotel.com
Have a lunch date uptown, East Side. My route begins in the West Village. In the spirit of discovery, I decide to try a different subway line to get there. I complete the first part of the northerly journey on the unfamiliar line, exit by the stairs, to catch a crosstown bus. The bus I want has to travel West to East through the Park. I arrive at the bus stop and standing there are dispensing machines, unknown to me. Although I speak and read English like a native speaker, the signage is not registering. I can’t figure out what is intended for me to do. I wait for a bus to arrive, so I can ask the driver. When I pose the question of “Do I have to have a separate ticket from that machine?” and with his reply of “Yes”, he asks me where I am going, he tells me that I need to be on the opposite side of the street. Thanking him, I cross over and come to stand in front of a new bank of machines. Eventually, I take a gamble, insert my metro card and am given a paper receipt, something to which the driver had referred, I remember vaguely. I join the throng waiting for a bus to arrive, traveling in the direction I need to go. The bus arrives. All the doors pop open along the side of this double sized bus, and as one has a ticket, one may board through any of the three entrances. I choose the middle one. I don’t know if I am supposed to walk up the aisle and offer the ticket to this new driver, but I don’t see anyone else who boarded with me at the same door making a forward move, so I hang on to the bar above my head. While standing beside a row of seats, thinking about the ticket in my hand, someone tugs at my coat tail. The bus is full, and I assume that someone is going to offer me their seat, I am standing right over them. Imagine my utter dumbfoundedness – as I look at the smiling face scanning mine, it is one of the persons I am on my way to meet for lunch. Now tell me, out of all the variables that are at play…. how did I end up towering over her on the same bus.
Another Year! Another 12 months of the Unexpected.
When your ship comes in, be down at the docks!
When your ship sails, make certain you are on it.
If your ship runs aground, salvage the best parts.
It’s never too late to start anew, says she of experience!
This, dear readers, is post 1000 on this journey around the City. Never did I imagine my observations would have a life, but here I am and the urge to tell-all-about-it, is still strong. I so enjoy observing life in this City that claims my loyalty, where I feel at Home!
When this building first appeared in ’07 the color of the upper level was apparently referred to as ‘neon pink’. As it is taller than any other building in the vicinity, it was the talk of the Village. It still is, and now 8 years later it has faded to what some refer to as a ‘Dusty Venetian Rose’. Julian Schnabel, an Artist, is the owner and it is a ‘work of art”, an apartment building with five units, spread over 12 floors. The Penthouse sold for $10.5 million – asking price was $32 million. The last empty apartment sold recently for $12 million, it’s 4000 sq foot space covering floors 8 & 9. I find the doors and what is at eye level attractive and wonder what the interior has become.
JulianSchnabel.com is the artist, if you want more information about him.
The information for this article was gleamed from Curbed.com