Hello hello. Sorry I am late. I am sitting at LaGuardia awaiting my flight home. My laptop will not connect to the free wifi. I have been trying to make it work for an hour. I give up. I'm going to write this thing on my phone. Which is pretty unpleasant, not gonna lie. Also means no playlist, no photos.

I came here early to sit and write this for you. And now I have to do it on my phone. Dammit. This big keyboard is helping, though. Also the airport is pretty empty, which is nice.

Place is lousy with AI ads, though.

New LaGuardia. They built this thing faster than I could write my book about LaGuardia. I should go re-read everything I wrote. It was going well. A mix of history and travelogue. Well not so much travelogue as sit-around-a-logue. Ruminations on the LGA experience from every terminal. I can't find a way in my mind now to make it work with the new LaGuardia. A friend was telling me this week that I could do it. That was nice of them. But Ive lost my angle.

The “do you need a cab” buskers are back in force at the new LGA. For a while NYC — or I guess PANYNJ — had successfully rid themselves of them. But no more. They are back. I wonder what causes this. I wonder if it is symbolic. We used to have journalists who would research this for us.

Just finished breakfast at the LaGuardia tulpa Bubby's. I like it. It suits me. I am a hollow facsimile of a New Yorker these days, it is a hollow facsimile of one of my old regular haunts. Fucking expensive though. I should start trying to talk to the wait staff about Bubby's in Tribeca. Make everyone uncomfortable. Android spell check does not pass muster on “TriBeCa.” Realtors wept.

Fifty bucks for bacon eggs and toast. And a diet coke.

Anyway New York was lovely. I partied too hard the first night, it broke me, I slept too long and missed my appointments on the second day. I'd say something like ”but they weren't work related so it's fine,” but what does that say about me respect for my personal life I guess.

But still the people I DID see, and there were many, were great. Went to my old friend Steve’s 20th anniversary work party. It was incredible. There were like at least three of us that had traveled to be there. We love Steve he is a prince among men. Drank too much, went to the Magician after. My old bartender from when I lived in the hood fifteen years ago was not there but she still works there. Prices were more or less reasonable. My drunkeness was not.

Stayed at the hotel I used to stay at in the Barbarian days, a return to form after the SoHo hotel of the Timehop Nimbus days. It was nice. An old friend. It was brand new when I used to be their most frequent guest. Now the rooms are 20+ years old. But I still like them, I still like it. First newish tower to pop up in the LES, back then. Before that blue, glass monstrosity replaced Tonic. Man I miss Tonic.

It's fascinating how much and how little the LES, New York has changed. Whole buildings can be swapped out mod-block, and you don't notice too much. But over decades, eventually a single block has enough buildings swapped, with the commensurate swap of retail tenants to a more luxurious caste, and then one day, boom. That block has changed. Gentrified.

But not necessarily the next block, though. It is piecemeal, haktine, sporadic. Is there a moment when critical mass is reached and the area is completely different? Yeah probably but I don't think the LES is completely different from,mmm, 2000 yet. Very different from the 80,s, I'm sure.

Mostly the trip made me love and miss New York. But as I was walking home from a lovely dinner last night — I took it easy, only had one drink to stabilize my hangover — and I walked by all these restaurants with beautiful, glamorous people, and I felt that old feeling I'd not felt since I moved away: this sense that everyone is having more fun. Everyone is more beautiful and glamorous and cool. I do not have this problem in rural Chatham County, NC, since of course, I am the most beautiful glamorous person in the country. Well. After my wife of course. I do not love that feeling. And I know it's irrational. Seconds later I walked by the bar where I used to throw my birthday parties: filling that bar with a hundred beautiful glamorous friends hear after year. It is not a rational feeling, I told myself. Well I guess you're just old now, then, I retorted. Helpful, Rick, helpful.

Jane was mostly good while I was gone, Emma says. Except one 45-minute stubborn episode. Once it passed, Jane told Emma that she only did it because Daddy wasn't there to give her consequences but also that I was very good at teaching her how to say sorry. So that is good.

Because if there's one thing I'm good at in life besides graphomania, it's saying sorry.