I Luff New York: Day #3 Part 1

This day was hard.  We got in from the match really, really late; because we got off the train at a transfer spot in Queens that was, well, closed.  We then had to wait like twenty minutes for another train to come back and express us back to Times Square.  I’m not exactly sure what happened because I let A+ do most of the work… Well, he’d already done the homework.  And I was really enjoying this whole not-having-control-over-the-situation thing.  I was sleeping in a very cold room, snuggled up to a very warm body, on probably the nicest bed I’ve slept in in years, after a very long couple of months where I was lucky to get any sleep.

I was pretty disoriented from all of this and could only think past A+’s answer of “nice” to my sleep-mumbling “what’s the attire”…

So here we are, sitting atop of this amazing hotel, checking out this view!  A+ made reservations awhile ago for Asiate, and I think breakfast may have been the only thing he could get.  I had on a dress and my favorite Steve Madden’s (that I suspect were completely ruined from the rain Tuesday, as they kept trying to cave in on themselves for the rest of the day).  I just remember sitting there, in my polka dot dress, thinking “coffee. must injest coffee.  omg.  we have our own coffee press.  homeboy did good.” – I had on my glasses and I insisted we sit by the window, no matter that sunlight was pouring in faster than expletives at the Jersey Shore house.

I glance across the menu and immediately decide (upon multiple references from Carissa that this is how they brunch on the upper eastern side of the United States) on the salmon, mascarpone, capers, etc. masterpiece below:

A+ ordered (what I considered to be boring) eggs, sausage, etc. (okay, the rest of the menu wasn’t exactly a ride on the Screamin’ Skycoaster, either) and proceeded with “and she will have…”

SHOCK.

I think this is the first time a man has ordered for me.  Or, the first time I’m not under some cocktail influence and don’t realize they’ve just ordered for me.  I think I played it cool, because I’m not letting my crazy-backhistory of dating assholes OR my stubborn independentness get the better of me this time.  Plus, he’s told me on occasion I need to stop being so proud (upon similar matters to dating).  Why am I so against this, I wonder?  Is it because my mother has constantly taught me to be independent, up to the point of annoyance? Sure a man can open the door for me, but I hardly let them.  I then quickly sum up my parent’s relationship advice attempts in relation to their actual relationship success and think that maybe I’ve just been doing everything wrong up to this point.

Breakfast was outstanding!  They even brought out a little “smoothie sample” which, I of course dove right into.  A+ was a bit skeptical, and I’m beginning to think I’m a bit more of an early adopter than he is when it comes to strange foods.  Well, that, and what kind of smoothie is brown?  As to not deter him from trying it, I simply describe it as “earthy”.  He tastes it, agrees with my description, and insinuate that he would not be partaking any more.

Anyway, the salmon is smokey, and like a wonderful, greasy, room temperature bacon atop my sesame bagel, loaded with all the toppings you see above.  I’m absolutely in love and saddened by the fact that A+ doesn’t like salmon. 🙁  In retaliation, I refused to try his sausage. (Okay, no dirty jokes here, Cheryl and Carissa) (And Neal).

After breakfast we take a stroll through Central Park (place is huge, and filled with horse carriages, people peddling bike tours, etc.)  Some jealous people on Twitter were asking for more… So I couldn’t dissapoint 🙂

We then strolled through the park, up about ten blocks or so, while A+ complained about my shoes, and finally made it to the Metropolitan Museum of Art.  We strolled around until he found the Van Gogh section and decided it was time to go back to the hotel for a nap.  Good thing, too, because my shoes had officially reached their resting point (those were some of my first, professional shoes that I’d bought outside of college.  They were Steve Madden Mary Janes, circa 2006.  They’ve been with me through God knows how many job interviews, nights out, and now, they’re defunt.) and I was thinking to myself “I will not pass out from the pain… I will not pass out from the pain…”

After a nap we returned to Central Park for our reservations at the Boathouse which you MIGHT remember from this episode of S&TC: