So I’m sitting here in Union Square Park, taking advantage the free wifi that the Syfy channel is generously sponsoring. I’m laboring under the illusion that someone sitting in a park typing on a laptop is far less pretentious than someone sitting in a coffee shop typing on a laptop. And also, I don’t care if the wifi in Starbucks IS free now. They are dead to me.

For those joining this show in progress, here’s the scenario: my mother, sister, daughter and I are in NYC for a week, kicking ass and taking names. We’ve only been here a couple days, and already many asses have been kicked and many names have been taken. The first day we got here (Sunday) it was like 900,000 degrees celsius and daughter and I decided to kick things off by heading out to Coney Island. Which didn’t turn out to be too bad an idea, because it meant we got to sit on an air conditioned subway for three hours. And now we can both say we’ve swam in the Atlantic Ocean (even though I didn’t go any higher than my knees). With that, and a ride on the Wonder Wheel and a trip to the NYC Aquarium, we deemed Coney Island “done.” (We are by no means exhaustive cataloguers of experience, as you will come to discover.)

Other highlights so far include a visit to the Merchant’s House museum, which I can’t believe I haven’t been to before. It was so freaking neat. It’s an old brownstone built in 1832 with all the original furniture and appurtenances intact. It provides a fascinating glimpse into NY city life in the 19th century, and is so delightfully unpretentious (instead of a gift shop they have a thrift shop where you can buy used books, housewares, ponchos … basically stuff you’d get at a church rummage. It’s totally charming. It’s the only museum gift shop in recent memory where I actually bought something, and I have a general rule against buying things at museum gift shops.)

Oh, and I’ve eaten better over the past two days than I have in months. Lunches with my agent and editor, and dinner with the charming La Valentine. It all makes for a welcome change from my regular diet of water-pack tuna and bunless BK Buck Doubles.

Let’s see, what else. Tonight we’re going to see some show about Green Day, which I’m sure will be a sensitive and subdued exploration of the human soul. Something like that. We’re eating dinner beforehand at Ruby Foo’s. Yeah, I know. Touristy much? But there is no stealth mode for me on this trip. I’ve got my fanny pack on and one of those little golf visors and I’m here to step on your toes and swerve drunkenly across your sidewalks, New Yorkers. Watch out.