I have a problem.

I haven’t been able to upload pictures for THREE DAYS now. Why, Technology, do you hate me?

*but if we’re friends on Facebook, then there are a few tagged photos of me, so please, do lurk them.

So, I’m going to do my best to paint a picture of the remainder of my New York Adventure with words. But, if pictures mean that much to you, then feel free to visit Part 1 and Part 2 of this story.

After a night of dinner and dancing and being chauffeured around the city that is New York (oh, and did I mention we had two security guards following us around all weekend? Um ya, slightly missed detail there, my bad) we woke up to a stellar breakfast. Well, sort of. Long story short: the service sucked, the food was late and we ended up at Christian Louboutin sometime that afternoon to cross #16 off my List.

So…

We shopped SoHo most of Saturday and ducked into this great store called Century 21, which in Canada is the name of a real estate brokerage but in the United States it’s…  A DISCOUNT STORE FROM GOD.

..Yes, after spending a mortgage payment on shoes, I watched my friends buy designer flats and pumps for less money than brunch at Balthazar (which we had on Sunday morning, before we jetted back home to Toronto.)

But let’s back it up a second.

Saturday night we had yet another swank dinner planned and some upscale club for later. But after a night of fancy partying, a day of shopping and overloading on luxury ’round the clock, we opted for a quiet dinner at Scarpetta (makes me drool just thinking about it), a quick trip to Times Square for the Birthday Girl (she’d never been before) followed by a relaxed night back at the suite, where I had my best sleep in months.

(Editor’s note: Oh, and if you ever do find yourself at Scarpetta and are a lover of fried foods and cheese, particularly together, then do order the mozarella in carozza – gently fried soft mozzarella laid over a bed of stewed tomatoes, topped with basil that, I swear, was just grown yesterday. Fresh.)

Sunday morning a few of us headed to the High Line Bridge – a run-down rail path converted to a stunning urban garden open for walks, picnics and people-gazing year round. Genius. (AH, I WISH I COULD UPLOAD THOSE FRIGGIN PHOTOS.)

The foliage was lush on both sides of the path, with layers of towering buildings sprouted around it, acting as the backdrop to an almost perfect scene. I say ‘almost’ because the only thing missing was a cocktail or some sort of chocolate bar. But other than that it was perfect. This bridge is a fantastic mini-world in the center of an urban universe; a collection of my favorite things set into one pretty picture – strokes of nature set against architecture, steal and wood. Perfect.

Before dashing for the private plane waiting with bounty of Dom Perignon and little noshables liked chocolate-dipped strawberries and crustless sandwiches, we enjoyed afternoon tea back at the hotel.. a sort of “sorry we fucked up your breakfast and made you two hours late for everything” gesture from the hotel staff. Whatever.

My tea experience included: three Bloody Marys, some strawberry tart goodness and chai coconut tea – I’m very balanced, see.

In true luxe style, we were late for our plane, which is sort of okay, since we were the only passengers and, well, they can’t leave without us. But still, late is late and late is never good.

After fighting traffic out of the city for over an hour – it was as though NY was saying, ‘no, don’t go!’ – we made it to the tarmac and were whisked, once again on to the private luxury that was our little jet.

The flight was good and uneventful. We could all feel the post-New York blues already setting in as the jet’s tires descended for landing in Toronto. But there was also a sense of relief; a feeling of, oh I dunno, accomplishment even, for having had the opportunity to experience a weekend like no other. For having crossed an item off my List that, yes, was frivolous and completely gratuitous, but so very worth the chance to indulge in something I wouldn’t have done a year ago.

In retrospect, I am one of those suckers who left her heart in New York – it happens to me every time I go there. I wish I could have been more like my friend Krista, who moved there promptly in the midst of her first year of university to pursue a life of art and dance. A decade later, she never looks back.

I still haven’t ruled out making New York my home one day, even if it’s just for a little while. Maybe it’ll go on a future List. I’m not sure. But I do know this: I’ll only ever put it on a List if I know I absolutely want it, because once it’s on there, it’s bound to come true.

That’s just the way the List rolls.