Twas the Night Before Christmas

‘Twas the night before Christmas and all through the Fam,

Cross the country they scurried, with boarding pass in hand.

When what to my wondering eyes should appear,

But 4 collar women, smiling ear to ear.

With Tribeca and Greenwich, and Rockafeller’s Tree,

They knew in that moment, they were in NYC!

The view out The Markle was nothing but stunning,

It made their hearts ready for a weekend of running!

More rapid than eagles, the restaurants they came,

And they whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

“Now Magnolias, now Bald Man, Elephant Castle, and Bubby’s!

On Pompolino, On Grapes and Grain, and Le Petit Café and coffees!

To the Site of Ground Zero! To the rink at Bryant Park!

Now Dash Away to Union Square Market and Filene’s Basement!

As Four beauties they were, yet having no greed,

Got free cookies, and cheesecake, and free honeymeade!

The four pulled pranks as they all bunked together,

But soon with mimosas, they had purchased some leather.

So down to the subway, to Radio City they flew,

To See the Rockettes and the Nativity too!

And then in a twinkling, I heard in the PIT,

People hooting and hawing, all up in a fit!

“Do I know you from Indy?” A gentleman said.

“Sure thing! I’m Liz Collar!” while scratching her head.

St. Patrick’s was grand, and North Star was jazzy,

But with two left shoes, they were nothing but frazzy!

But the trip was complete with a lot less stress,

Earrings for the bride and her rehearsal meal dress!

They were bundled in down from their head to their feet,

To view fabulous windows on Fifth Avenue Street.

Snapping pictures away was the beautiful blond,

While the youngest of all waved her Blackberry wand.

Cartier, how it twinkled! Fendi, how merry!

The windows at Sacks were dressed up like snow ferries!

The Palm Court at the Plaza was drawn up all in bows,

But for the Chinatown hustlers, our anticipation rose,

She spoke not a word, this china-doll elf,

But she knew where Prada hung hot on her shelf.

A wink of her eye, and a twist of her head.

“137,” a parlor, for rubs: back and head.

Its finally come to the end of our time,

But not until hearts are shared with good wine.

But I heard them exclaim as home, they went forth,

I’ll see you for Christmas! At Ryan’s! Up north!