My New York Summer Gig Adventure

In mid-August, I was flown out to New York to perform for a private 70th birthday party in Millbrook—a quiet, pastoral estate tucked away in the lush greenery of upstate. This marked my second New York gig and my first time outside the city, and as you’ll soon see, it was anything but ordinary.

The Backstory (Because You Know There’s Always One)

A decade ago, I volunteered to sing at an LGBTQ Chamber of Commerce mixer at the Sofitel in Beverly Hills. The flyer had no entertainment listed (gasp), so I reached out and offered myself. The organizer, initially hesitant, said yes—and then enthusiastically promoted me mid-event, passing out my business cards like it was a confetti cannon.

That gig led to a holiday party at Wilshire Park Country Club… which led to private estate events… which led to a 21st birthday party… and that’s where I met the client who would later move to New York and invite me to sing at his 70th. He and his wife flew René and me out, and the rest is humid, hilarious, and heartfelt history.

✈️ Lemon Dresses, Lost Phones & Flight Crew Angels

After two performances the night before, we came home, packed, slept two hours, and was scooped up at 3:30am by a suited driver in a black Suburban. Travel fatigue aside, I pulled myself together in a very cute lemon day dress, and as we boarded the plane, a smitten flight attendant said

:“You are so well put together. You look so beautiful this morning.”

I may have been half-asleep, but I felt that glow up.

And then… chaos ensued moments later.

I somehow lost my phone between boarding and stowing my speaker. Cue full-blown panic attack for the duration of the flight. The flight crew rallied like it was a team-building exercise. Announcements were made. Overhead bins were checked. Fellow passengers watched with a mix of concern and quiet horror. I was filled with a sense of utter embarrassment, desperation and gratitude. I really didn't want to be that passenger!! I hate to be a spectacle. I'm already a 5'10, 300 lb lesbian in a bright lemon dress. I don't need extra attention really!!!

As we landed, my locator pinged—from the overhead bin in front of me. I had placed it there while loading gear into mine, then the groggy amnesia had set in.

Groundhogs, Fireflies & Forest Arias

A second suited driver met us at JFK and took us out of the city into a wall of greenery. Dense forests. Sparkling lakes. Absolute saturation of green. It was hot. It was humid. It was glorious. I even saw my first ever groundhog on the roadside, just chilling, like a furry little mascot welcoming us to New York.

We eventually arrived at our lodging: Best Western Inn & Suites at the Falls.( Spoiler Alert: There are no falls. None. Apparently, they fell?)

Our modest suite overlooked Wappinger Creek, which delivered a beautiful scenery of lush trees, plants, ducks, Canadian geese, and a peaceful soundtrack of babbling water and screaming cicadas.

That night we finally crashed after not having slept since Wednesday night—14 hours of deep, glorious sleep.

🛁The next morning I managed to grab the complimentary breakfast in time and sit creekside. Then I did what any opera-singing sound healer would do: I warmed up for hours in the jacuzzi tub. I sang arias. I vocal-ran myself into bliss then emerged as the water drenched mermaid I identify with to witness a solitary white-tailed deer grazing outside. Nature was in full glory and I was here for it... Though this would have been way better if I could have seen the creek from my jacuzzi tub!

🌈 Thunderstorms, Rainbows & Balcony Ballads

Our Uber driver Adam (a chill Deadhead with a tiny Hyundai) picked us up just as a torrential thunderstorm broke loose. Sheets of rain. Thunder cracks. Zero visibility. I started prepping a rainy-day jazz setlist in my head.

And then—just as we arrived in Millbrook—sunlight broke through and a massive rainbow arched across the sky, trailing behind us like divine approval.

The estate was flat and sprawling, with long banquet tables stretching across the lawn. Plastic covered every plate and champagne flute like love letters to preparedness and as the sun came out, the staff set to work preparing for guest arrival any moment. I performed from anupstairs balcony off the master bedroom (which also served as my green room for 6 hours) as guests arrived, paused for dinner, then sang again until well after midnight.

It was elegant, heartfelt, and soaked in joy.

The Great Airport Sprint of 2025™

Coming home… was its own story.

Our app showed a severe flight delay, so we took our time. But when we checked in? The boarding pass said on-time. Suddenly, we were late.

René had arranged for a wheelchair assist, but the attendant hadn’t arrived. Just then, a tiny Pakistani woman in a hijab—fresh into her shift—caught the urgency and sprang into action like she had just showed up for the Iron Man race.

She grabbed Rene's chair and took off literally running. I sprinted behind them in my sundress, dragging a roller bag and duffel, heart pounding in my Skecher sandals (bought for Bali, now honored by JFK). So glad I had made the right call for shoes, since my feet had been sore after wearing new sandals at the airport before.

The little lady shouted “BEEP BEEP!” at every slow walker. She confessed she was terrified of dogs—as we were forced to slow for the K9 Unit at TSA. She then charged through the terminal like she was trying to beat her best time. She kept repeating "we'll make it. I will do my best!!"

As we finally reached the gate, we discovered what we knew before was true all along - the flight was STILL delayed, even later now.

We had just completed the Olympic Games... for no reason at all. I wasn't mad about it. I was impressed and she was generously compensated for her efforts. I needed to cool down. I make it a general rule never to run unless my life is in danger, however, since I was the child of a flight attendant, it actually brought back memories of my mother making us run across terminals as kids to catch flights. It was too nostalgic for me to be upset.

Touchdown & Tune-Ups

We finally boarded together—tired, sweaty, and laughing—and were met in San Diego by the same driver who had whisked us away days earlier.

Somewhere in that last jacuzzi soak, I seemed to have pulled something in my arm—still healing—but that’s a small price to pay for the kind of adventure that writes itself.

🗺️ So, Where to Next?

I’ve now performed all over California, New York, Arizona, Nevada, Costa Rica, Indonesia, Mexico, and Italy. And every time, I’m reminded that the real magic isn’t just in the singing—it’s in the stories.

🎤 My voice is my passport.

🧳 My Real ID is ready.

🔊Travel Speaker Is Charged.

👡My Shoes Are Supportive

👗My Travel Attire Is Cute & Comfy

🌈Wherever the next rainbow leads… I’ll be there.