Going to New York City is always an experience in itself.
I am always amazed at my ability to get to my destination with minimal knowledge of the city except what Google Maps shows me on my Galaxy.
There is something so electric about the city that makes me crave everything it has to offer.
It’s forcing me out of my old-lady tendencies of staying in the house and giving me the chops to go out and explore the city I once dreamed about and I love it.
Two weeks ago, my friend Channing and I did just that with a walking tour of Grand Central Station and the surrounding area.
Our tour guide defined it as the “Ultimate New York Experience,” as he yelled at us for just now coming on the tour before noting that we would be trouble.
He was wrong about us being trouble, but he wasn’t lying about the experience part.
For me, it was like taking a trip to a forgotten time. To a time when things were designed not only with a purpose, but to be…well, an experience.
As we toured the Chrysler building, I couldn’t help but marvel at the art work from the architecture, the mural on the ceiling that paid homage to the industrial revolution, down to the elevator doors.
At Grand Central Station, which opened February 2, 1913, I was in awe by the thought that someone intentionally designed it in order to increase the natural flow of the building.
With three original main entrances, one specifically, was designed to make commuters walk faster towards the street by making it feel like the walls are closing in on them. But as you walk further into what was referred to as “the great stairless station” by The New York Times, the walls open and ceilings get higher making commuters take notice.
And boy, did I notice.
I noticed what appeared to be constellations painted on the ceiling of the main concourse.
I noticed the grand staircase from the movie “Friends with Benefits” where a random flash mob broke out and I secretly hoped that would happen in real life.
I also noticed the large kissing gallery where long distance trains arrived and I could picture young couples meeting for the first time in months. I imagined how the men embraced the women. And how women’s eyes must have filled with tears.
But the real time capsule was at the Campbell’s Apartments right next door to the station.
Everything in there was just a walk through time screaming elegance from the suede and leather couches, snake skin-topped coffee tables, intricate wood work, down to the bar keep with a mustache that extended straight across his face.
In a city that’s known to be all “go,go,go,” it was nice to slow down and enjoy the experience.
