Holiday Windows 2016: Saks Delights

Despite the insane crowds that infiltrate Midtown at this time of year, I do like the holiday season in New York for the same reason it attracts crowds—it's impossibly charming. The Rockefeller tree is always smaller and more raggedy than I imagine, and five minutes of navigating the Fifth Avenue sidewalks is enough to commit anyone to Bellevue for observation.

But then you pass an intricate holiday window, or it begins to snow and it feels like you're living inside of a real life city snow globe. While we've yet to have our first real snow, the holiday windows have been revealed, and I went to check out my favorites this past weekend.

 By now it's tradition to gawk at the window displays (Bergdorfs, Saks and Bloomingdale's) and compare them to years past—I still maintain that 2013 is the year to beat, but maybe I'm just nostalgic for my first holiday season in the city. Saks Fifth Avenue always splits their windows, with a main theme featuring animatronic scenes (two years ago they did Fairy Tales, and the year before that featured the Yeti), with the side windows featuring Saks fashion. This year there was a candy theme to all of their decorations, although I think last year's icy theme was better overall.

The best part about the Saks windows is that they reflect the Deco beauty of neighboring Rockefeller Center, adding to that city-in-a-snow-globe feeling. The candy theme was a good idea, but the execution felt a little cheap—not something you expect from Saks—with large, shiny plastic lollipops and candy canes and... not much else. I do, however, very much appreciate that they set up barriers so you're forced to form an orderly line if you'd like to view the windows up close. They even have a bouncer to maintain order, which is something that other stores with holiday displays (especially Bergdorfs) should think about adopting.

Saks Fashion Windows: 2014 | 2015

Morbid Anatomy Museum: Taxidermy

A few months ago, I went to see the taxidermy exhibit at the Morbid Anatomy Museum. It was wonderful, but I was bummed that they didn't allow photos of the exhibition. Shortly after my visit, they started a Kickstarter project to help fund the acquisition and transport of The Kittens' Wedding, a diorama made by Victorian taxidermist Walter Potter. I had been dying to see Potter's work in person, so I supported the project. Luckily it was funded, and The Kittens' Wedding became the centerpiece of the taxidermy exhibit. Of course I had to go back, and to my delight photos were allowed this time around.

This was the last weekend for the show, so I texted my friend Carli, "I have to get to the Morbid Anatomy Museum before Kitten Wedding leaves," which is a totally normal text for me to send. I'm so glad we made it, because The Kittens' Wedding was incredible. It was larger, and more elaborate than I expected, and just totally strange and wonderful. This is the only of Potter's creations in which the animals are fully clothed (they even have undergarments!), and this is the first time it's been formally exhibited in the US.

The rest of the exhibition space is full of so many strange and wonderful creatures—they have a sloth, anteater, aardvark, porcupine, weasel, white wallaby, hyena, lion, zebra, ostrich, seal, walrus, penguin, black bear and cases of exotic birds. While I don't agree with hunting for sport, I do appreciate that most of these animals were made at a time when most people would never see these animals otherwise. Even today, having seen most of these animals in zoos or on TV, I'm still amazed at the crazy creatures nature produces.

The 'wall of dogs' was a highlight for me, featuring several cases with various breeds of dogs, sitting on velvet pillows. They have one cat—holding a taxidermy mouse in its mouth—that I might use as a model when the time comes to taxidermy Mozart (my cat).

There were a few other anthropomorphic scenes featuring squirrels having tea, playing cards and enjoying a hearty acorn meal. I love anything that incorporates the animals into a "real life" scene, and the Morbid Anatomy Museum never fails to deliver in the diorama department. But it's the terrible taxidermy that I not-so-secretly love more than anything—googly eyes, faces that aren't quite right and forms that make you question if the taxidermist ever even saw the animal in real life.

More Morbid Anatomy: House of Wax | Dioramas | Collector's Cabinet | Library

Roswell: Alien Zone

It's been a while since I've been on a road trip, and while I was daydreaming about Roswell the other day I realized that I never shared photos from one of my favorite attractions: Alien Zone. Alien Zone was built in 1998 by a local commercial artist and pastor, and features approximately 20 different dioramas with which visitors are encouraged to interact and take photos. My sister texted me about Alien Zone when we were planning our trip and it was just as cheesy and ridiculous as we expected.

The dioramas are pretty elaborate and entirely hilarious. Each one features an alien or two in a different "real life" situation: at a kitchen table, passed out on the couch, drinking a beer, climbing out of a crashed UFO, awaiting an autopsy, bartending, having a cookout, etc. A lot of the dioramas have seen better days, condition-wise, but the homemade quality is also part of the appeal.

The scenes are really quite clever, and set up specifically for great photo-ops—the kitchen table scene is oriented upside down so when you flip the photo, it looks like you're on the ceiling. You can crawl inside of the crashed UFO, sit next to an alien in an outhouse, and grab a cold one from the bar. I'll spare you the photos that included my sister, brother-in-law, niece and I interacting with the scenes, but trust me—the admission was just $3 a person, but the memories (and photos) we made were priceless.

Brooklyn Army Terminal Building B

The Brooklyn Army Terminal complex was built in 1918 and was the largest military supply base in the United States through World War II. The US government sold the property to the city in 1981, and it has since been redeveloped for commercial use. The terminal was designed by Cass Gilbert—other famous Gilbert buildings include the Woolworth Building and the US Supreme Court—and building B was the largest individual building in the world when it was completed in 1919.

Building B was the last of the places I visited during Open House New York weekend (after the Marine Air Terminal and the Treasures in the Trash collection). The atrium in Building B is the showstopper—it was once used as a loading dock and train station, processing more than 37 million tons of military supplies in its lifetime. In addition to supplies, more than 3 million troops passed through the terminal, including Elvis Presley on his way to Germany in 1958.

The concrete, off-set loading docks are beautiful in their own utilitarian way, but the skylight (once paneled in glass but now open to the sky) makes the space feel really special. New York can feel overcrowded and squeezed for space, so it always amazes me to step into a place like the Brooklyn Army Terminal that feels completely different than any other place I've ever been. I love that a building built for a decidedly unglamorous purpose—as a working, military warehouse—can be fully functional as well as incredibly beautiful.

Salem Wax Museum

The Salem Wax Museum of Witches & Seafarers features 50 London-made wax figures depicting scenes from Salem's history, from the notorious 1692 witch hysteria to its days as a bustling seaport. When we visited Salem in October, we had to be choosy about which attractions we visited because the lines were prohibitively long, especially in the "Haunted Neighborhood." I had wanted to see the wax museum even if it has pretty terrible reviews on Trip Advisor and Yelp—I've never met a creepy, dusty, glassy-eyed wax figure that I didn't love.

The Salem Wax Museum is full of figures that will make you look twice—crossed eyes, missing fingers and questionable wardrobe choices abound. The museum has been in operation for more than 20 years, and attractions like this just don't get made anymore. Wax museums feel so analog in our world of screens and graphics, but no amount of digital effects will ever be able to recreate the feeling you get standing before a dimly-lit scene set with life-size and life-like wax figures.

The line was long, but moved quickly and while I'm sure the other attractions are fun, I don't at all regret our choice. Our experience at the Salem Wax Museum was similar to the one we had at Niagara's Wax Museum of History—most people were not impressed, a bit confused and hurried through the exhibit, while I loved every weird minute of it.

Bayside Cemetery: Fall

Ever since I went to Bayside Cemetery earlier this year, I've been thinking about going back. Bayside has fallen into disrepair throughout the years, and around Halloween someone actually broke into one of the mausoleums and stole remains—I promise it wasn't me. I first went in May of this year, and it was overgrown with grass and weeds. I remarked that I would love to see it in the fall, so I went on Sunday to fulfill that need.

I didn't realize just how different the cemetery looked in the fall vs. in the spring, until I looked back at my photos from my first visit. Everything is covered in piles of yellow, orange and brown leaves—sometimes I found myself hopping from one fallen tombstone to another like they were paving stones. Bayside isn't totally abandoned (we saw grounds workers in May) and new security measures seem to be in place since the Halloween incident (new barbed wire along the fence and "No Trespassing" signs) but it's the closest I've seen to an "abandoned" cemetery within city limits.

Most cemeteries I visit have noticeable decay and even the most well-kept places can't avoid crumbling stones or the effects of weather, time and vandals. The most interesting thing about the condition of Bayside is the amount of stones that have been knocked clear off their bases. Most of these stones are enormous—I can't imagine the noise they must make when they take their final fall.

I was surprised to see at least two fresh burials from September of this year, so maybe Bayside is finally getting the attention it hasn't had in the recent past. As thrilled as I was to be traipsing through rows of tightly packed tombstones and piles of leaves, I couldn't help but already start to look forward to revisiting Bayside in the snow.

Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade: Balloon Inflation 2016

I've seen the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade in person two-and-a-half times now, and this will be my fourth consecutive Thanksgiving spent in the city (we visited a year before I moved and caught half of the parade). The parade will always feel nostalgic and so very New York to me—we watched it every year while I was living in Ohio, and finally seeing it in person was a life highlight. I'm definitely not done seeing it in person, but this year I decided to brave the balloon inflation instead.

Every year the balloons are inflated the night before the parade, in the streets bordering the American Museum of Natural History. The inflation starts at 3pm and viewing ends at 10pm—the later you go, the more inflated the balloons will be. I arrived at the beginning of the (incredibly long) line at around 4:30pm, and the balloons were entirely inflated when I reached them around 6pm. I was expecting and dreading a large (child-full) crowd, but I was prepared and stayed pretty zen as strollers nipped my heels.

Once we actually arrived at the balloons, however, the crowd loosened a bit and the views were incredible. I tried not to smile too outrageously—I was by myself—but I couldn't help but be giddy seeing the balloons so closely. The best views of the balloons can be had in the parade, of course, but most were repeats that I had already seen in previous years. It's also fascinating to catch a glimpse into the inner-workings of such a large event, and there were tons of workers in jumpsuits inflating, securing and keeping watch over the balloons.

I think I'm a little too old-fashioned (and maybe just too old) to care much about the new(er) character balloons—Trolls, Thomas the Tank Engine, Paddington Bear, Pikachu, The Elf on a Shelf, Diary of a Wimpy Kid, Scrat from Ice Age—but the classic Macy's balloons—stars, pumpkins, elves, the hippo and the Harolds (policeman and fireman)—really feel like Thanksgiving to me. Seeing the balloons did make me a little bit sad that I won't be seeing the parade this year, but then I saw a man in a turkey hat taking a selfie in front of an elf balloon and realized just how thankful I am for this city and this life.

Thanksgiving Day Parade: 2013 | 2014

Marine Air Terminal

As part of the Open House New York weekend back in October (before I visited the Treasures in the Trash collection), I finally got to see inside of the Marine Air Terminal at LaGuardia Airport. Originally built for seaplanes, the Marine Air Terminal is the only remaining active airport terminal in the US from the Golden Age of Flight. LaGuardia (a WPA project) opened in 1939, and the Marine Air Terminal opened the next year. It has been on the National Register of Historic Places since 1982, and since 1985 it has been used for shuttle flights between New York and Boston and Washington DC (currently through Delta).

The terminal is very small—especially compared with the current-day airport experience—but it's dripping with flight-themed Art Deco details. While certainly not as grand or unique as Eero Saarinen's TWA Flight Center masterpiece at JFK, the Marine Air Terminal still feels fancy in a way modern airports will never be able to replicate. Illusions to the miracle of flight are everywhere—in the outside tile work, on the entry doors and on nearly every surface of the lobby.

The lobby contains the largest mural curated under the Works Progress Administration—a 12-feet-tall, 237-feet-long painting depicting flight in various forms. It was painted over in the '50s by the Port Authority, but was thankfully restored in the '80s. The Art Deco lettering over the doorways indicating Departures, Restaurant and Telephones proves that lettering doesn't have to be overly complicated to be striking and that utilitarian signage can be beautiful as well as functional. I'm so grateful for Open House New York weekend, and the chance to be able to peek inside such a gem—if only I could go back to 1940 and hitch a ride on the Pan American Clipper.

Mount Beacon

Most years I feel as if I've petted fall to death before the first snowflake even falls, but this year has felt different. Maybe it's the consistently warm weather or the fact that a lot of the leaves in the city still haven't changed yet, but I haven't felt as immersed in fall this year. I mentioned before that this is probably just a consequence of living in New York City—when we took a hike upstate in Beacon, NY in mid-October fall was already in full swing.

Beacon is about two hours north of the city, on the eastern side of the Hudson River. The Mount Beacon hike that we took was about 2.5 miles total, which doesn't seem that far but it was a tough two miles. Our hikes are usually longer but we had limited time so my dude chose one with maximum impact in a relatively short amount of time. The hike was very steep—it starts out with 200 stairs—but as always, the view from the top was worth it.

Mount Beacon used to be home to an incline railway, which would take passengers up 1,500 ft to a hotel and casino. The incline ceased operations in the late '70s, but you can still see remnants. The casino and hotel have been reduced to their foundations, but I will immediately agree to go on any hike at the mere mention of ruins.

I definitely have something I call "exercise amnesia," meaning that I complain the entire way up (sometimes just in my head, sometimes outloud) and make dramatic claims like "I'm dying." But as soon as we rest for a minute and take in the views, I forget how terrible I felt and I'm ready to do it all over again. There's a specific feeling of accomplishment when you literally climb a mountain that is hard to replicate elsewhere.

Subway Therapy

A day after Donald Trump was elected president (a phrase I still can't believe is real), an artist set up "Subway therapy" in a 14th Street subway corridor. People were encouraged to write down their thoughts on a Post-it Note and stick it to the wall. It has since spread to other spots—a week later there are thousands of messages in Union Square, and people are still adding to the multi-layered, multi-surface creation.

I—like a lot of people I know—was devastated by the election results. We had gone to the Javits Center to celebrate what was sure to be a historic night, and left at midnight before any official announcement, but with heavy hearts. I barely slept at all that night, but I was actually glad to get up and go into work in the morning, knowing that I wouldn't be alone in my grief. As hard as this has been, I can only imagine how hard it would be to weather alone—a minuscule dot of blue in a red state—and I've never been more thankful to wake up in New York City.

The messages on the wall seem mostly positive, although the "Fuck Trump" sentiment is not underrepresented. Just scanning the messages made me tear up—I know I live in one of those "liberal bubbles" and I'm surrounded by "coastal elites," but it's comforting to know that New Yorkers are generally in agreement about our country's current (and terrifying) situation.

I've been feeling so many emotions this past week, but one of the main ones is helplessness. Everything that has gone wrong or every dreadful thing yet to come seems too large to even really comprehend, let alone stop. I know a few thousand Post-it Notes are not going to stop the fact that Donald Trump is our President-elect, but behind every Post-it is a real, live person—people that aren't willing to remain silent anymore, people that know that love is stronger than hate and people that I truly believe will prove that we are, indeed, stronger together.

St. Michael's Cemetery

I really didn't think that I would still be thinking about St. Michaels Cemetery months after my visit. It's not a particularly old, historic or unique cemetery, and my only reason for visiting was because I'd passed it many times on my way to the airport. But in addition to the huge headless statue population and the large amount of ceramic portraiture, I found some really lovely (and creepy) things at St. Michael's.

Fall is obviously prime cemetery exploring weather, but when I went to St. Michael's in September it was 90+ degrees. I always have weather amnesia when a new season starts, and find it hard to even comprehend that I was sweating or freezing so recently. It was so hot, actually that I didn't even stay as long as I would have normally, so it's especially fortunate that I found so much so quickly.

There were a few ivy-covered tombstones and statues, which will forever be my favorite. I love the crumbling and decay present in cemeteries, and I can usually spot a few things even in the most well-cared for of places. I'm still perplexed about the headless epidemic, but I also saw a few boarded-up mausoleums and even a grave that was basically wide open (yes, I peeked inside but couldn't see anything).

I loved the "Our Dear Debby, Daddy Dear and Darling Mama" family, and knowing nothing else about them can be pretty certain that they were wonderful people—at least whoever bought the headstone thought so. I also love that no matter which cemetery I explore, I always find something to pique my interest, whether it's a sweet epitaph, eye-catching name, interesting stone shape or beautiful typography.

Canstruction 2016

For the third year in a row, my mom and I recently checked out the Canstruction exhibit at Brookfield Place in lower Manhattan. Canstruction is an annual charity art exhibition featuring sculptures made entirely out of canned goods. After the exhibition is over, all of the food is donated to local food banks. It's an easy and fun thing (and free, although a food donation is suggested) for us to do together, and by now it feels like tradition.

During the past three years Brookfield Place, located across from the World Trade Tower, has also grown into a full-blown retail space, filled with shops and restaurants. My mom and I were laughing at the high-end shops and wondering who actually shopped there, but then we ended up in Aldo trying on shoes and buying purses, so I guess the answer is "us." This year's sculptures weren't as clever or impressive as previous years, but it was still a nice way to spend a leisurely Saturday.

New York-centric sculptures are always my favorite, and Pizza Rat (and his googly eyes) definitely made me laugh. I also enjoy when a team comes up with a clever name (I'm still thinking about the "Sta'tuna' of Liberty") and this year's best pun was the Starry Night by Vincent "Can" Gogh. I wouldn't know where to start in building one of these sculptures, but I do know that the team that built the Guggenheim definitely squandered the opportunity to call it the "GuggenHam."

Canstruction 2015 | 2014

Lizzie Borden Bed and Breakfast

We had been planning to visit the Lizzie Borden house for a few years, and we finally made it happen as a stop on the way to Salem in October. Fall River, Massachusetts is about an hour and a half south of Salem, and about three hours northeast of New York City. The Bordens—Andrew and his second wife Abby, along with Andrew's daughters, Emma and Lizzie—lived at 92 Second Street in downtown Fall River from 1872 to 1892. The house has operated as a bed and breakfast since 1996, although we opted to just take a tour instead of staying overnight.

On Thursday, August 4, 1892, Abby and Andrew Borden were murdered with a hatchet in separate rooms of the house—Abby in an upstairs bedroom, and Andrew in the sitting room. Lizzie was tried and acquitted of the crime nearly a year later, and the murders remain unsolved. Lizzie and Emma moved out of the Second Street house but didn't go very far, moving to "The Hill" neighborhood, where Lizzie started going by Lisbeth. 

The house tour was really thorough and our tour guide was great. My only complaint is that our group was much too large, but we weren't surprised that it's a popular late-October destination. Almost none of the furnishings are original, but they're period-specific to what the Bordens may have had. There are a few artifacts scattered throughout the house, including replicas of Andrew and Abby's skulls (the originals were reburied after being exhumed for the trial), the dress Elizabeth Montgomery wore in "The Legend of Lizzie Borden," family photographs and a book once owned (and initialed) by Lizzie.

I knew the basics of the story before the tour and had my own theories, but after actually seeing the house I'm even more convinced that Lizzie did it. The trial itself was the first to be reported on a national level, and one of the first to use photographic evidence—it was basically the OJ Simpson case of the 1890s. The all-male jury couldn't accept that a woman was capable of such savagery, and in the absence of any real physical evidence, moved to acquit. Too much time has passed to ever really know if it was the right decision, but if you're curious, you could stay overnight and see if the Ouija board has any answers.

See also: Lizzie Borden's Grave

Green-Wood Cemetery: Fall

I've noticed since I moved to New York, that the fall foliage in the city is slower to turn than in other parts of the country. Even just a few miles upstate can make a huge difference in color, and while most the East Coast and Midwest is at peak or past peak, it feels as if the city leaves have just begun to change. I've recognized this in past years, and by now I've come to appreciate the delay.

October is always my busiest month, but come November my calendar is always empty. I feel like I still have plenty of time to enjoy fall in the city, which is good since there is really no better time to explore—especially when it comes to cemetery strolls. Which is why, when my dude asked on Sunday if I'd like to walk through Green-Wood Cemetery, I said "of course."

Some trees were at their peak already, but others were still mostly green (and one hardy rose bush was in full bloom!). The colorful backdrops make for some really excellent contrasts with the stark stones. I'll never tire of taking photos in cemeteries, and they're the perfect place to really practice your photography—they're usually empty and filled with beautiful and stationary (or so you hope) subjects.

The weather recently has been fall at its finest, and it's already impossible for me to imagine that I was sweating though everything I own just a few weeks ago. I never thought I would have what I consider to be my "neighborhood" cemetery, but since moving to Brooklyn I've really come to cherish my time spent at Green-Wood. To be able to walk just a few blocks to a world-class cemetery is such a luxury, and I can't imagine every tiring of its beauty.

I'm With Her

I'm too tired to write a proper blog post, but here are some (slightly blurry, terribly-lit) scenes from the Hillary crowd outside of the Javits Center in Manhattan last night:

And I posted this to Facebook last night, but it bears repeating:

I wish with all of my true-blue heart that the worst thing that happened last night was the cake-flavored vodka shot that Francesca and I drank on our sad walk away from the Javits Center.

Misogyny, racism, hatred, superiority, holier-than-thou attitudes on bodies, races, sexualities and human beings do NOT have a place in this country and I refuse to accept that this is America. We're better than this, and we need to be better to one another.

And more people need to take their dogs everywhere they go because WOULD YOU LOOK at that face.

Atlantic City, New Jersey

For the last three years since we moved to New York, I've been promising my mom I would take her to Atlantic City for her birthday. We moved to New York at the same(ish) time and were roommates for two years before I decamped to Brooklyn and she stayed in Harlem. This year I finally made good on my promise, and thanks to some well-timed Jewish Holidays (I work at a Jewish organization, much the chagrin of my friends that don't) we were able to go to Atlantic City on a Monday/Tuesday in early October.

The last time we were both in Atlantic Shitty was 2008—my parents weren't yet divorced, and we took what would be our last family vacation to the land of hermit crabs and boob mugs. We stayed at Trump Plaza, which has since been abandoned (much like Trump's Presidential ambitions by the end of tonight, hopefully), and our most recent trip included a whirl around the now-shuttered Taj Mahal during its last week in business.

I'd been warned before we went that Atlantic City was in dire straits, but that was part of the appeal. My mom likes to gamble and I love kitsch and ruin, so it was the perfect mother-daughter getaway. The state of the city and the boardwalk in general wasn't actually as bad as I had expected, and even on an off-season weekday the casinos that are still open (particularly Resorts World and Bally's) were bustling. We actually preferred the post-apocalyptic calm of the Taj Mahal—until a machine malfunctioned and ate my $30 credit slip.

 In between visiting Lucy the Elephant and the Clara Glen Pet Cemetery, we ate burgers at Johnny Rockets, won and lost at machines I picked exclusively for their names/animal mascots (Corgi Cash, Kitty Glitter), shopped for souvenirs, snacked on peanut chews and salt water taffy, and strolled the boardwalk. My mom parked herself at a hot machine as I explored more of the boardwalk, including Ripley's Believe it or Not—it's not as impressive when you're now an adult who seeks out real oddities (like at the Mütter Museum), but it was still a worthwhile stop.

After the closing of the Taj Mahal, the north end of the boardwalk is now completely abandoned—with Taj neighbors Showboat and Revel also sitting empty. Revel opened in 2012 only to close two years later, although it's scheduled to reopen again in 2017 under a new name. I don't think more casinos are the best way to save Atlantic City, especially with gambling far more widespread than it used to be, but I'm not sure what it will take to bring AC back to its glory days.

White's City + Carlsbad Caverns

 On our recent Roswell road trip—after our short hike through Bottomless Lakes State Park—we headed to Carlsbad Caverns. We planned to spend the entire day there, exploring the cave until it was time to watch the bat flight. But before we even got to the cave, we stopped at White's City, located four miles east of Carlsbad Caverns National Park.

White's City was established as a campsite in the early 1900s, and over the years grew to include a Pueblo Motel, drug and grocery store, museum, chair lift ride to the top of Walnut Canyon, theater, water park, arcade, gift shop, saloon and other touristy attractions. Unfortunately White's City's heyday appears to be over—aside from an RV park, gift shop, (terrible) restrooms and a desolate restaurant, not much else appeared open or inhabited.

After extreme build-up in the form of what seemed like hundreds of signs along the highway advertising the many attributes of White's City, the actual destination was a bit of a let down. But, like a lot of roadside attractions today, if you look hard enough you can still catch glimpses of its glory days via its signage, spacious—albeit dusty—gift shop, and old-timey Wild West-theme.

After squishing some pennies and buying a dusty floaty pen (depicting the bat flight!), we headed to the main attraction. Carlsbad Cave National Monument was established in 1923, but the limestone cavern is 250 to 280 million years old. We took the self-guided tour down through the natural entrance, a 1.25 mile hike with a descent of 750 feet. I definitely recommend the natural entrance trail if you're comfortable walking distances, but there's also an elevator that will deposit you right into the Big Room.

All along the trail I kept oohing and ahhing over the formations—nature is really, really nuts—and I couldn't possibly imagine how it could get any better. But when we finally made it to the Big Room, I realized why it was the star—it's breathtaking. The Big Room trail is another 1.25 miles, but we were forced to take the shortcut by rangers who told us politely that we were overstaying our welcome (the last elevator up was at 4:30pm, but they started putting the pressure on us around 4pm).

But even after the kitsch of White's City and the grandeur of the cavern, the bat flight still managed to impress. Photos and videos are not allowed during the flight, and it's nice (in addition to being helpful for the bats) to actually experience something nowadays without the pressure of documenting it in just the right way. I think this about most things, but the bat flight really needs to be experienced—there are videos, but they can't possibly capture the sights, sounds, smells and feelings of sitting beneath thousands and thousands of flying bats. I didn't know there were that many bats in the world, let alone in one cavern—we watched for an hour until it was too dark to see, but the ranger said the flight can last from two to four hours. 

Conservatory Garden: Korean Chrysanthemums

Last year was my first time seeing the amazing fall Korean chrysanthemums at the Conservatory Garden in Central Park. I actually thought they were daisies at the time, because I know nothing about plants, but a helpful commenter gently set me straight. I was thrilled to discover that they're back this year—as beautiful as ever—and to be able to answer correctly when two women asked if I knew what type of flowers they were.

Fall isn't necessarily known for its spectacular blooms, but thanks to the incredible plant magic they work at the Conservatory Garden I've discovered that fall flowers can be just as impressive as the ones in spring or summer. I actually even think I prefer the chrysanthemums to the tulips, even if they're what made me fall in love with the Conservatory Garden in the first place. 

What makes the chrysanthemums so impressive is the shear number of them—I'm terrible at estimating things, but there must be thousands of blooms—buzzing with bees and other exotic-looking insects, spilling out onto the walkways and tangling with one another, positively bursting out of the beds. The effect is really something that must be seen in person to be truly appreciated, and I'm so glad I remembered to check in on them this year.

Last year's blooms