New York, New York. The city so nice, they named it twice.

As some are aware, editor-in-chief T.J Gerlach and I took a trip to the Big Apple to accept an award. Everyone has been asking about the trip, so I thought I’d highlight a few points I enjoyed the most.

Thursday

*5:30 a.m.:We’ve been up all night, working on The Chart. I went home to pack, at which time, my mom reminded me to pack clean underpants.

*3:05 p.m.: We flag a taxi and go 100 miles per hour to our hotel.

*4:45 p.m.: T.J. and I decide to check out the sites. We go to Times Square, the closest thing to our hotel. Times Square is the place where thousands of drunk people gather every New Year’s Eve to stand elbow to elbow for 14 hours and pee in the street.

*5:55 p.m.: We’re still on Times Square standing in front of the Virgin Mega Store. We are trying to decide to: a) give a dollar to the homeless guy with the iPod and the Rolex, b) try and get on MTV or c) go inside and meet Paris Hilton.

*6:33 p.m.: We are standing in front of mega toy store FAO Schwartz. It’s closed for Christmas renovation. Crap.

*6:51 p.m.: We stop at Trump Tower. It’s Trumpalicious.

Friday

*10:35 a.m.: We get up a little late. For some reason, we think it would be a good idea to walk 65 blocks to the tip of the island.

*11:01 a.m.: We begin our walk. Everything is fine.

*11:08 a.m.: We’re already getting tired.

*11:16 a.m.: This was a bad idea.

*11:19 a.m.: Starbucks. Alright.

*1:33 p.m.: We arrive at Battery Park. The place is booming with Trump-like entrepreneurs selling Gucci purses and Ray-Ban sunglasses that “fell off the truck.” No wonder they break in a week.

*1:36 p.m.: A guy in Battery Park is selling batteries. Go figure.

*2:49 p.m.: We’re on the platform waiting for the train in the subway. It’s about 112 degrees, and it smells like a Port-A-Potty. We literally stink.

*3:26 p.m.: We walk into the Grand Hyatt, the hotel where our convention is to take place. I’m pretty sure the doorman, the bellman and the guy at registration all think we’re homeless.

*5:52 p.m.: T.J. and I go down to Greenwich Village for dinner, where everyone thinks we’re gay. We decide on a neutral buffer zone to relinquish any premonitions.

Saturday

*2:22 p.m. Saturday: We’re on our way to Penn Station in a taxi. Our driver somehow can’t see all of the other cars on the road or his speedometer (which has broken off). That’s OK though, because he somehow can’t hear the horns and expletives being hurled his way.

*9:55 p.m.: I meet little Dylan and his little brother, Tony, on the plane ride home. I asked Dylan where he was from. His response, “I poopie.”

I must say I had a great time on this trip. I highly recommend that everyone see this great city at least once in his or her lifetime. And don’t forget to pack clean underpants.