Finally caught up on some sleep, woke to do some online research on what had taken me to the NYPL, then dashed back there to arrange for some images to be sent. (Not to make a mystery of this: it's about the history of my small town in R.I.)

Outside the 21 Club, with its jockey motif.

Then I raced up to 48th St. with about a minute to spare to see "Boeing Boeing" -- yes, again. It opens on Monday, and they just started letting critics see it Thursday. So when the PG group went Wednesday, it wasn't yet open for review. I went anyway, but they told me I had to come back and review it later, so I did. Obviously I wouldn't have gone again if I hadn't liked what I saw, but I did, so I did, and I laughed just as much. I have no idea what the New York critics will say -- I rather fear they may condescend to it, since it is, after all, "just" a farce -- but there's no question it's an audience-pleaser. It sure pleased me.

The really distinctive performance is Mark Rylance's, but the others do good, strenuous work. Christine Baranski is an audience favorite from the start, and she and Bradley Whitford get entrance applause. Rylance gets only a smattering, since he's not known on Broadway, but by the end of the show, everyone knows he's been the heart of the comedy.

In the wine cellar at 21 (actually under No. 19), some bottles are reserved for favorite clients or the faous: spot the Liz Taylor vintage.

Seeing it for a second time in just four days, the main difference was Whitford, who was doing much more: he'd really settled in and started to expand. He's a fine stage actor. Well, maybe I just watched him more this time. I'll think about it.

The ShowPlane's farewell dinner was at 21, a restaurant with a comfortable present but also a sparkling past. I remember my parents' talk of having eaten there in the '40s, and I'm sure my father had been drinking there before that. On this visit Paul and Jackie arranged an extra treat, a visit to the Prohibition wine cellar, built underneath the adjacent No. 19 and hidden behind a giant, 5,000 pound steel and concrete door disguised as part of the cellar wall, so no crusading enforcement cops would bust through it.

The legend is that then-mayor Jimmy Walker liked to drink at 21, so once during a raid he hid out in the cellar under No. 19 and called to have the federal agents' cars ticketed.

Oenophile Paul Busang considers slipping a few bottles under his jacket.

Now, they say the cellar holds about 27,000 bottles. Amid them, there's a cozy dining room that seats up to 21 (of course). You can book it for a multi-course, five-wine dinner for just $495 per -- or you can settle for a 3-course, 2-wine luncheon that'll set everyone back only $120.

While we were eating upstairs, the Kentucky Derby was run amid some intense rooting. With all the racing decor, it felt appropriate, but what a sad end result it proved to have.

And then on to one of the main attractions of the week, the fine "South Pacific" at Lincoln Center, which is all cluttered up outside with construction work. But there was nothing wrong inside the Beaumont, where the delicious Kelli O'Hara is partnered with the matinee-idol looks and sumptuous baritone of Brazlian/Polish opera star Paulo Szot.

This one will be fun to write about, not the least because, amid all the pleasures of melody and romance, "South Pacific" also has a serious story -- surprisingly so for a popular art form in 1949.

Laughter all afternoon and laughter plus sumptuous melody, romance and a feeling heart at night. Not bad.