NYC's top five

Reader Blue writes:

Yo Yank!
Please give me the top five things to do and see and avoid in NY City. Me and the little lady might visit The Big Apple in April.

Glad to oblige. April, you say?

Yankee Stadium: The guiding principle of New York City is, Stick to the things that will actually exceed their hype. (By way of what to avoid, stay away from Soho, avoid Canal Street, Fie on Chinatown.) Yankee Stadium--with its royal blue seats affording a view of the emerald playing field, the monuments to Ruth and Gehrig, DiMag and the Mick in Monument Park, the bleacher creatures in center field chanting the names of the starting players (one after the other, each until the player being whose name is chanted turns and waves), and, above all, a few minutes before that ritual, the pleasure of seeing Jeter, Matsui, Damon, Robbie, Georgie, and A-Rod trot confidently to their stations at the top of the first--is such a place.

Remember the end of For Love of the Game? The best line, the only meaningful line in the whole movie, was Vin Scully's, after Billy Chapel's perfect game: "The cathedral that is Yankee Stadium belongs to a Chapel." The cathedral that is Yankee Stadium. Yes, and yes again. Also, the House that Ruth Built has only two more seasons to go before the new playpen opens across the train tracks.

Broadway: My this-year's discovery. Check out the ticket kiosk that offers half-price tickets in the basement of the hotel--I forget the name--on 48th Street. The only drawback is that the kiosk only takes cash, which can be a problem, in that New York City is one of the three cities in the country where you find yourself returning again and again to the ATM machine. New Orleans has Bourbon Street, Las Vegas has the tables, and New York City has the cabs, the cloakrooms, the street vendors, and the bars that have been standing since 1848, the place you go in for one drink, so keeping a tab is a pain. (This I discovered: Easterners break a twenty for their first drink, and leave the change on the bar in front of them, taking what they need until they leave.) On which subject:

The bars that have been standing since 1848 (or so): Absolutely no guesswork at all. Wait until after five, but go before dark. Walk down a street, look for a wood-front tavern featuring a green awning, or else a corner place with its name spelled out vertically, and just walk in. Maybe it'll be noisy, maybe quiet, maybe sports, maybe Wall Street, maybe theatre. The bartender next to you will lecture you on whether or not the Yanks should trade A-Rod, Mr. Brown Class of '01 on the stool next to you will tell his friend (but loudly enough--on purpose--for you to hear) whether the market is due for a correction. You never know.

This method was how I discovered Rosie O'Grady's--the bar, not the steakhouse--on Broadway and 50th. And, in five minutes, with the help of the owner and a bond salesman, fixed the BCS.

Battery Park: More or less compulsory. The boat to Liberty Island can be a pain: go early, early, early. A few blocks north, Ground Zero. Not a lot of joyousness, but . . . you have to go. (Take the 1 Train to South Ferry, end of the line, get off, work your way north.)

The best walk in the world: From a memory of twenty years ago this spring. Sunset. The walk down Sixth Avenue, from Rockefeller Plaza to the Empire State Building. Has to be seen, etc.

Leave you with one memory. On a whim, Saturday, I walked from my hotel to the Ambassador Theatre, where (as I wrote already) Bebe Neuwirth was finishing her last week in the revival of Chicago. The man at the box office was quintessential New York: bald, muscular, compact, gray blazer, yellow shirt, red tie. New York.

"Uh . . ." I asked. "Anything for tonight?"

I thought he might laugh at me. Instead, he tapped out a few keystrokes on his computer.

"Ahhh," he said, and squinted at the screen. "Got sixth row. Y'want sixth row?"

I want sixth row.

"Ah," I asked, feeling warmed-to, "tell me, please. Is it pronounced Babe Neuwirth or Beebee Neuwirth?"

Now he smiled, in the same way a Soprano smiles, mid-whack. "Beebee," he said.

Oh, and on Monday, I have no idea where we were or how to get there, but as Astro-Girl and I worked our way from Chinatown home to the hotel, we stumbled onto a collection of Federal Buildings and courtrooms, and up one impressive set of gray steps, a filming of an episode of "Law and Order." Tom Berenger and Armand Assante were the featured performers that day.

My first clue was the 18-wheeler with the enormous PARAMOUNT PICTURES logo on the side.

"You know what this means?" I asked Astro-Girl.

A man walking behind us, carrying a violin case and a backpack, answered me.

"Yeah," he said as he passed. "I know. And it f%&*s up the traffic every day. It sucks."

Nearer to the set, a real-life ADA, who seemed all of twelve, and all of ninety pounds, and a real blonde (cut short), was more helpful.

"It was kind of exciting at first," she admitted. "But then it got boring. They're here every day."

Astro-Girl, who lives for all things "Law and Order" (all but the first team on "Criminal Intent"--D'Nofrio bugs her) was disappointed.

"I wanted to see McCoy," she said.

"Saying something profound and laconic as he and this season's McCoy-babe walk from the courthouse?" I guessed.

"Exactly," she said.