We finally made it up the stairs to walk over the Brooklyn Bridge. Let me tell you something about the Brooklyn Bridge, pedestrian section. It is not a lounge area. It is very windy, and the choice of a cute skirt and scarf set was not my brightest idea ever (damn, I was trying to picture every day of this trip as one fabulous date after another and packed for the occasion). There we were, me, bright-eyed with my Nikon D200 and A+ with his point-and-shoot, just happy as we could be…
And finally figured out what all those bikers were yelling at us for.
The right half of the bridge is for bicycles. And apparently an attitude is a pre-requisite. Well, most of the center of the bridge had big, steel, cattle guard-type contraptions, which leads me to believe it was being worked on. So really, the middle, left quarter of the bridge was for walking. A hurried walk over the Brooklyn Bridge trying to hold a camera in one hand and hold a skirt down with the other is quite the experience, just so you know.
So after that was over, we decided it was time to start thinking about going to the match that night. We stopped in a little french bistro for some crossiant-filled-with-chocolate type bread and a chocolate cookie, which I argue against, pulling out my first to-be-repeated-many-times-this-trip “You can get a damn chocolate chip cookie anywhere”. A+ secretly purchases both while I nerd out and check into Le Pain Quotidien on fourquare. I am sad to hear he’s dissapointed that “they’re way better in Paris” which leads me to suspect they may just have secret ingredients over in Paris (and I bet they have a lot less calories, as well). He keeps bringing up Paris like he wants to move there someday, as if he lived there but in a dream after taking a trip there in the past. I remember he once asked me was if I liked to travel, and did I like Paris. I remember cheerfully replying “Well, I’m a woman. That means, that I must proclaim from the rooftops that I absolutely love Paris, despite the fact that I’ve never been”. (He loved that answer, I think) (I will remember him loving it, even if he didn’t).
Somehow in this hustle and bustle we bought me a jacket, I noticed that only one woman was wearing heels, and we gathered ourselves onto the subway and hustled over to the Arthur Ashe Stadium area for the Nadal vs. Verdasco match. Seating was crazy in the waiting area outside! We shared a table with a guy and a girl, then a man and his daughter, and before I knew it we were finishing our beer and crepes in front of a family of four. I lustfully eyed the Grey Goose bar and wondered how I could sweet-talk my way into a cocktail. I’ve never seen A+ drunk, and I’m starting to learn I’m a much bigger drinker than he is. That, and reading a Chelsea Handler book on the way up basically tricked me into thinking a vodka cocktail was the highlight of anyone’s day and was absolutely necessary for travel.
Anyway, we found our seats and watched Nadal defeat Verdasco. A+ filled me in on some tidbits about tennis, since most of what I knew came from either playing it on the original Nintendo at my aunt’s house in the summer, or from what my (get this) complete 2010 US Open Tennis Aficionado taxi driver in Austin told me while he drove me from my apartment to the airport. Then we made the chilly subway ride back to our even chillier hotel room – A+ likes it around 65 and cuddling up next to him throughout the night was really more of a strategic, survival tactic… A very sweet, comforting survival tactic 🙂
