Update: for anyone who arrived here in search of Lucky Chan's, I fear it has closed down...
(and leave a comment, why don't you.)
Warning - it's a long one...
Janine and Ben's wedding day was on October 11th, 2001, in New York. We didn't know if it was going ahead - they didn't want to cancel and all of their friends had been planning for it all year, scraping the pennies together, and finally all the flights had been booked and accommodation sorted. They spoke to the rabbi who said, life still goes on, and what better way to show this than with celebrating their wedding?
So it went ahead, and we had the best time. To be in New York makes me euphoric any time, but to be in New York with all my closest friends was the icing on the cake. Maybe it wasn't appropriate, a month after the planes crashing into the Twin Towers, because the image I have of us was like the Banana Splits on acid, scampering about the city, giddy with high spirits and approaching hysteria. So I apologize to New Yorkers if we behaved badly, we didn't mean it, because we love the city.
Chelsea GirlsWe stayed in a little
hostel in Chelsea where apparently Madonna stayed early on (but is there anywhere Madonna hasn't stayed?) I'd booked the "Betty Boop room" which was meant to be for 3 people, but in fact featured a kind of triple decker bunk bed; not enough room to swing a hamster let alone a cat. Our Spanish friend Veronica is from a posh family and used to the finer things - her face was a picture when she walked in. Luckily they soon upgraded us to one of their apartments, for free, so we had a kitchenette/living room and a bathroom too.
Lucky ChansThe first night, the hen night, we went to Lucky Chans, a Chinese restaurant with drag queen waitresses and a floor show . Our waitress was this beautiful black Amazon.
"Are you bitches ready to order?"
She sat down and chatted with us at the end, she told us that business was pretty quiet. We couldn't understand why the table of blonde girls in front of us had been throwing us filthy looks for being loud - were we being insensitive? But, wait a minute, if they were in mourning, what were they doing in a restaurant where you were liable to get lap-danced by a six foot tranny in platforms and a bustier? It seemed like that a lot of the time. People seemed normal, business as usual, but we were the loudest wherever we went. In left wing, independent, sceptical New York, American flags hung from every window, bouquets were piled up in fire stations, in the subway stations and on walls everywhere were photos of people still missing.
ChampagneThe ceremony was in a loft in SoHo. They'd sent everyone a piece of material to decorate as they pleased - then we all sent them back and they were stitched together to make the hupah (the canopy you get married underneath in a Jewish wedding). The wedding itself was crazy, on fast forward, warp speed. This may have had something to do with the champagne. The waiters were walking around giving everyone refills. I felt like this had been arranged for my personal amusement and pleasure, because it seemed as if one of them was following me around with a bottle conveniently to hand. The only way to get pissed, my dear. In every photo
you can see me lovingly clutching my glass, as if scared that someone would try and take it away.
(
This photo could be subtitled "Pete and Annie at the Buddy Holly convention")SoHo Grand Afterwards we went back to their hotel, the SoHo Grand, I think. It was very plush, very rock n' roll; the kind of place I will probably never set foot in for the rest of my life, so I enjoyed every second of it. I remember weaving down the hall and trying not to, in front of poker-faced Armani-clad hotel staff. The sofas! The flowers! The moody lighting! The snotty bar tenders! We saw their suite, with a beautiful terrace and a breathtaking view of the lights of Manhattan. It was about four in the morning, too wild and wet to stay out there long. Ben's socialite step-mother laughed at us. "I love the Brits - they say, this is normal weather for us."
DesireBen's friends took us to a bar around the corner for cocktails. Our waiter was very cute. "What's this?" cried Emma, grabbing his hand and scrutinising his nail polish. "It's called 'Desire'," he said, and I wanted to take him back to Spain with me. "It's called chipped," she snapped, but unlike the drag queens, he misunderstood her banter and just looked hurt.
"Ah, Em, he's like Bambi. You hurt his feelings." When he came back, she apologised.
"Sometimes I say things, but it's only in jest. I mean no harm."
"That's okay," he said, and bounced away to brighten up someone else's life. I think a lot of the time, people couldn't understand what we were saying (two nations divided by a common language) but he understood she was saying sorry.
Living on a prayerThe last memory I have of the bar is of our table of 20, arms aloft, headbanging to "
Living on a prayer."
"Take my hand, we'll make it I swear!""You're our favourite table!" said a waitress, but then, it was probably because we were finally leaving.
I love New YorkOh man, I hope it isn't the last time we're all there together. How many more stories could we generate, given longer to stay? Emily wondered if you live there, if it just turns into real life, if your heart stops beating faster when you step onto the street or into Central Park. But I don't think so. Even for a local, I think it must still be magical.
Look at their cool wedding cake!
