Matrimonial Blitz, Day 1: Big Apple, Strained

Dash, Mommy, and Daddy returned Sunday from a whirlwind 4-day trip to New York and New Jersey. We were there for THE social event of the season, as they say: Cousin/Doctor Tahl and Bryan's wedding, which went down at Cousin/Artist Daniel's pastoral farm north of the city, amid goats and donkeys and sheep, oh my!

We arrived late Thursday afternoon at Newark Liberty Airport (for some reason, Newark and Liberty together seems oxymoronic), with plans to meet friends in NYC that evening. Oh, if it were only that simple. First, there was the stop to drop off luggage at Uncle Seymour and Aunt Harriet's (father/mother of the bride) place in Cliffside Park. Daddy's parents, who hadn't seen Dash since he was barely a peanut, were there. Dash, having been confined to laps in an airborne tin can for 6 hours, and perhaps inspired by Daniel's bird shit paintings (no, really) in the background, celebrated his freedom by performing another in a long line of "firsts": crawling.

No sooner did he reach the stuffed seal than we rushed off to the ferry for the city. (File: First Boat Trip AND First NYC Trip.)

Across the Hudson in a mere 8 minutes, we were well on our way to the Upper East Side with plenty of time to spare. Then Obama stopped us. Yes, that Obama. He was in town. Traffic was at a standstill. We jumped off our cross-town bus and made our way for the 6 train on Lexington, only to learn no one was allowed to cross Park Avenue until the President passed. "Yes We Can" became "Uhm, No, You Can't For A Half Hour."

Finally, FINALLY we got to, you guess it, Dash's First Subway Ride.

An hour and a half late, we arrived at Dorrian's Red Hand (proud home of the Preppie Murder in 1986!). On hand were some of Daddy's oldest and dearest friends and their offspring. For the next several hours, the party game was "Pass The Baby." The rules are simple: you snatch the baby from Mommy, and when the baby starts to cry you try to calm the baby before Mommy and Daddy realize the blubbering they hear is the sound of their own overstimulated baby. Kicking off the game was Len, immediately surrounded by every child within 200 yards as if he held the Baby Jesus.

Here, Len's brother, Nich, is likely telling Mommy about Mayor Bloomberg's assault on the NYC school system.

Bill shows off his superior "uncle skills" with Dash.

Len likely telling Nich's wife, Jane (who was also Daddy's best roommate ever!), how the Mets could be contenders if only they had better middle relief.

Making an appearance toward the end of the evening -- long after Len's wife, Amy, and Nich & Len's sister, Mary Lauren, and all 57 of their kids had long since fled -- was David. No, the other David. (Photo unavailable. Please refer to the tiny blonde under "Devotees of Dash".)

Finally, around midnight (still only 9pm our west coast time), it was time to ferry back to Snookiland. The city that never sleeps proved no match for the baby who frequently naps.

All photos ©2011 Garrito

Next up: The drive from hell, to heaven.