To conquer NYC, stay at the Algonquin

I know many of you JILLABUSTER readers are wondering what happened at Jillfest 2007 -- my incredible trip to New York where I stayed in the Dorothy Parker Suite at the famed Algonquin. Well, to paraphrase an old Teri Hatcher line from Seinfeld, "It was real and the stories are spectacular." I'm still processing them all and frankly, resting from the grueling nature of the trip as far as my illness goes. The day before I left, a snarky nurse at my oncology office sniffed at my request to have a home health care nurse do a visit at the hotel part way through the trip so I could get a dose of the prescriptions that keep me going during treatment. " IF you are that sick, it sounds like you should not be traveling." So completely different from the nurses a few years before who celebrating with me for going to see Bruce Springsteen during my first chemo treatment. Never mind that my oncologist had said it could be arranged and was himself incredibly supportive of my taking this trip. He was out of town and all the sudden my trip of a lifetime was at the mercy of Nurse Ratchett. I asked to speak to another nurse and she was more sympathetic but that was about it. So, I got over it. I willed myself to not get sick or tired while I was there. It was just too great of an opportunity. But force of will can only get you so far in NY. That city is amazing, but draining. My last day, the most important one, I was an exhausted zombie trying to act excited for all my friends who were beside themselves at our good fortune. I was thrilled that my friend Dave Marsh was taking the train into the city to meet up with me backstage at Letterman, thrilled to be hearing Patti Scalfia sing, interested in seeing what Bill Clinton's latest project was (Oh if I could bottle some of that man's energy and share it with all us cancer patients.) and of course excited to be in the legendary Ed Sullivan Theatre and getting to see David Letterman do his thing up close and personal from behind the curtain. But an hour before we were due for a preshow tour, I hit the mother of all walls and just wept with exhaustion and disappointment in my inability to will myself strong and happy.

But enough whining. Yes, I felt tired and sick. But who cares. I met Bruce Springsteen. He kissed me on my cheek and told me to hang in there. I laughed with Patti Scalfia about meeting Vigo Mortensen (who was in my Dorothy Parker suite when I checked in) and our favorite horse movies. She is incredible . . . and charming as I'll get out. I met Dave's kind and caring wife Barbara Carr and felt like I had known her forever. Dave and I talked civil rights stories -- from my dad's clashes with the KKK to the acid in the hotel pool incident in St Augustine FL. As always, He got my mind going on things I could be doing, writing, accomplishing. And yet he called me on my "legacy angst." Something along the lines of, "Get over it. Let go of the pressure of planning and just live. Look around at all the people who came to be with you in New York. Your legacy is you." I swear I felt an exhale come from the bottom of my soul when I took that in. Thank God for that man's honesty and caring heart.

I watched the show in a sweet suite with my dear friend Gretchen, Dave Marsh, Barbara, a hilarious woman who works with them who had just flown in from London, and sat on a tiny loveseat next to Jon Landau, admiring his socks which were something out of a Dr Seuss story before giving him advice on how he should take a page from the Talking Heads Stop Making Sense tour and have Patti's band do a Tom Tom Club "show in the middle of a show" for Bruce's upcoming Magic shows. I told him no charge for the consultation. We laughed ourselves silly, getting another glare from poor Gretchen who was trying to watch her brother's show on the monitor. She had no idea who Jon Landau was. When we got back to St Pete and she was sharing stories with some of our Bruce-loving buddies in the newsroom, Pulitzer Prize winning feature writer Tom French figured out who this big funky guy was she mentioned and gently explained to her that she was in the room with a legend of titanic proportions. That's why we pay Tom the big bucks.

Anyway, yes I was sick and tired. But more than that, I was happy, grateful and after Bruce kissed my cheek, according to Gretchen, walking on air. It was, just like Bruce’s new album moniker, MAGIC.

Stay tuned for more NYC slide show over at jillwilson.com. I downloaded some more pictures tonight but haven’t labeled and captioned them yet. You can click on the title of this post to go to http://tinyurl.com/2r5eug and check out what is up so far. I'll try and finish in the next couple of days so keep checking back!