Last October, my good friend Christian and I descended upon New York city with our daughters. So much fun was had that we determined to try it again.

Christian and Iris drove up to the city on Thursday. Alden’s and my adventure began on Friday afternoon, when the whole family drove up to Wilmington.

Alden was full of vim. She had been counting down the days to our trip for the past month or more.

Robbi was morose. Without my charm and ebullience, she mostly lies around crying and collecting dust.

Kato was concerned. When Robbi is busy pining for me, she often forgets to feed him.

This post will focus on the two of us who were in good moods. Robbi will have to write another post about the many depressing hours she and the boys were forced to spend without us.

The parting was fearful. Kato whispered something along the lines of, “Please, Papa, please give me something to eat. Peanuts. Stale crusts, anything…” but alas, my pockets were empty.

Alden and I boarded the bus, and the adventure was on.

We chatted and watched the world roll by. Eventually we arrived at the Holland Tunnel. Suddenly, the world rolled by a LOT slower.

But eventually we made it to a nondescript patch of pavement, where we were unceremoniously deposited.

By all appearances, we were in New York.

We hopped on a 1 train and headed south to Christopher Street.

When you spend most of your life in Chestertown, subways rides are terribly exciting events.

As are late-night scampers down twisting Greenwich Village streets. Alden stopped at every door and asked, “Is this Uncle Davey’s house?” The answer was no, no, no, and no again.

But, eventually, we came to the right house. Here it is, the next morning. Alden and Iris were so happy to be reunited. Living as they do on opposite shores of the Chesapeake Bay, their opportunities for camaraderie are unpleasantly few.

We headed to a diner for breakfast. Alden was delighted to learn that even in dingy backwaters like New York City, they have Frosted Mini Wheats. To telegraph her excitement, she had two bowls.

After breakfast, we asked the girls what they wanted to do. “I want to go to the big park,” said Alden. “The one that is way up high.”

This second detail let us know that it was not Central Park that Alden had in her sights, but the High Line, a defunct elevated railroad track along the West side that has been turned into an amazing park.

The High Line offers many attractions, such as miles of green-lined pathways for strolling.

And wide, comfortable benches for lounging and snacking and scowling.

And wooden structures for climbing (and scowling) on.

And for jumping off of.

It offers wide stretches of lawn to serve as backdrops for pictures of friends doing the things that friends do.

Those things for which there are no words.

Those things that the best days of life are full of.

I stopped to take a photo of Alden and me…

While our fried John stopped to take a photo of me taking a photo of Alden and me.

I like his photo much better.

The High Line is equipped with cool elevators with yellow/green tinting.

Eventually, alas, we came to the end.

And when we did, we headed off to our next adventure, which was to scale the Rockefeller building, which is, you may or may not know, the headquarters of NBC.

The building is quite tall. 70 stories, in fact. It was so tall, that our initial attempts to photograph it were unsuccessful.

And so I tried again.

At the base of 30 Rock, as it is known, there are many flags…

…surrounding an ice skating rink.

The building is beautiful, with plenty of art deco details.

All of us were pretty excited at the prospects of conquering it.

Going up is not just a matter of getting in an elevator and pressing the highest button. No, we had to wait in line and buy tickets.

When we finally got to the elevator, we were treated to a short movie projected on the glass ceiling.

At the top, we had a sweeping view of everything.

Including Central Park to the north.

And the Empire State Building to the south.

Here it is without all those people in the way.

By this time, we were a bit tuckered out, so we hopped on the subway and headed back to the Village.

Escalators were involved.

After a long nap, we headed out again, this time venturing East toward the NYU campus.

Our destination: a restaurant that serves only peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

Chris remembered it from back in the day when he lived in New York and had no children.

What you may not realize is that there are many ways to make a PB&J, not all of which involve the J.

In fact, Christian got a peanut butter BLT and claims it was delicious. Alden got a “cookie dough” sandwich, which was peanut butter, cream cheese, and chocolate chips.

While we waited, Christian taught Alden some bad habits.

She was a quick study.

Our sandwiches arrived. Alden wasted no time in voicing her approval.

After dinner we stopped at an establishment that sold nothing but cupcakes.

Including one variety that made me think of Robbi.

Back at Uncle Davey’s place, we had a pre-dinner dance-off.

Here’s how it works: When Christian points at you, you have to dance. Alden got the first nod.

Then it was Iris’s turn.

The girls alternated dancing for a while.

But then it was time for full-on, no-holds-barred, dual-dancing mayhem.

Here’s a tip: the dance off is a highly effective way to eliminate wiggles pre-bedtime.

This morning we headed back to the diner for more cereal. Alden singlehandedly depleted the Frosted Mini Wheat supply on Saturday morning, so today, she was forced to move on to Frosted Flakes.

It didn’t seem to set her back much.

After breakfast, we figured it was time to head home, fearing that Robbi and the boys might have passed out from a combination of sadness and malnutrition.

This time, there was no waiting to get through the tunnel.

It was smooth sailing, all the way across the Delaware Memorial Bridge.

We met up with Robbi at the Delaware House, the world’s finest rest stop. She and the boys seemed remarkably chipper, considering. She claimed that they got along just fine without me, but I have my doubts.

The second installment of father/daughter weekend was a smashing success. I’m already looking forward to year three.

Here’s to good times and the very best of friends.