Christmas Eve at The Plaza, the tree at Rockefeller, the toy store, the park in the snow, and midnight in Times Square to finish it.
One rule: never rush a morning. Two anchored things a day, the rest left open for wandering, and for standing still in the cold looking at lights.
Every one still standing, and still looking like the film. Most within a fifteen-minute walk of the hotel door.
"The Plaza Hotel. New York's most exciting hotel experience."
Kevin checks in with his father's credit card. We do it properly. The lobby, the Palm Court, the corridor he sprints down: all still there, all unchanged.
768 Fifth Avenue, at Central Park South
"I've been thinking about you a lot."
Where he finds his mother on Christmas Eve. Go after ten at night, when the crowd thins out and for a few minutes the whole plaza is yours.
45 Rockefeller Plaza
The park he cuts through, twice.
Skating with the skyline over the treeline. Take the first session of the morning and it is nearly empty.
Central Park, east side at 62nd Street
Where the Pigeon Lady walks.
The carriages still line up on the same block, outside the same hotel. Dusk, a blanket, twenty minutes in and back.
59th Street, at the Plaza fountain
Duncan's Toy Chest, more or less.
The real store the film's was dressed to feel like, now at Rockefeller Plaza. The giant floor piano is still on the ground floor.
30 Rockefeller Plaza
Uncle Rob's brownstone, the "empty" house.
A quiet Upper West Side block. Ten seconds of screen time, a two-minute photograph, then brunch around the corner.
Upper West Side, off Columbus
"Your heart might still be broken, but it isn't gone."
The rooftop was a set; the hall is the landmark it was built around. Worth the walk past, better still if there is a concert that night.
881 Seventh Avenue
The lights he stands under, mouth open.
Ours on the one night of the year it belongs to everybody. The plan for it is below, and the details matter more than the hype does.
Broadway at 45th StreetTwo people, nine nights, a suite at The Plaza and the top floor over Times Square for the ball drop. Priced at holiday rates, which are the worst of the year, so this is the honest number rather than the brochure one.
You can't spend a week in New York and not see it snow at least once.