|Thanks, Gene, Frank and Jules. Also, source.|
Anyway. I made it to the museum and found Sara without any problems. It was sliiiiiiightly before opening, and there was a crowd of people waiting. Sara was completely horrified that I made her queue for a museum. MWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! Ahem. The museum was fun - I got to be all "Ooooooh, Jake Gyllenhaal was here in The Day After Tomorrow!!" (except apparently not because I just looked up the filming locations on IMDb and this wasn't one of them. SAD FACE) and "Wow, that dead thing is really REALLY happy about being dead!"
|"Being dead is AWESOME!!"|
After we finished at the Natural History Museum, we decided to walk across Central Park. This led my brain to go "OH GOD, THERE'S GOING TO BE A MANGLED DEAD BODY IN HERE SOMEWHERE AND IT'LL BE GROSS AND I'LL BE TRAUMATISED. OR THERE'LL BE A CRAZY RAPIST. ARGH ARGH ARGH ARGH ARGH. I WONDER IF MY TRAVEL INSURANCE COVERS TRAUMA COUNSELLING..." What? No, I'm sure it has nothing whatsoever to do with my television watching in Chicago. Why do you ask?
|"In New York City, sexually based offences are considered especially heinous." Also, source|
Ahem. Needless to say, we made it through Central Park without even the slightest incident, although Sara found the Diana Ross Playground highly entertaining (Yes, THAT Diana Ross. I checked). When we got to the other side of the park, we intended to go straight to the Met for more museuming. But when we reached 5th Avenue, we stumbled across this:
The annual German-American Steuben Parade. From my very
half hearted detailed research on Wikipedia, it's pretty much just a parade of "Yay, we have German ancestry!" I have no idea where John Denver comes into it:
Despite being in completely the wrong city, I was fully expecting Ferris Bueller to turn up on a parade float singing Danke Schoen...
After marvelling at the craziness for a while, we headed up to the Met, where we got horribly distracted by a cupcake truck.
Mmmm, cupcakes. Mine was the Cup o' Joe, and it was pretty damned good. (Also, has anyone been to New York and had one of their savoury cupcakes? Because I was too chicken to try one. Plus, chocolate always wins.) We watched the parade for a while longer before heading into the Met. Shortly thereafter, we both hit a dose of museum fatigue and so basically spent our time playing my "What would I take home?" game, only adapted to focus on the weirdest or dumbest or ugliest things in each room.
|The Nile, personified. Um, sure?|
|Pretty sure this belongs in a Hogwarts bathroom|
|Awesome hair and a case of crazy eyes. What's not to love?|
|This is a NOSE RING.|
|Hee hee, tiny crazy kitty!|
|Does this ruff make my head look small?|
|Yet another male baby wearing a weird hat. And playing with a lamb. As you do...|
|This dude has a seriously gross hairy mole on his left cheek.|
As per usual, my favourite thing at the Met was the Temple of Dendur, due almost entirely to a dim dark memory of a "Sesame Street Goes to the Met" special that I saw a millionty years ago that no one else has ever heard of and that I kind of think I made up. (HOLY CRAP - Youtube tells me I didn't!! It was called "Don't Eat the Pictures", except that I remember them actually getting sucked back into Ancient Egypt when they went to the Temple of Dendur... Apparently they just met a kid from Ancient Egypt instead. Boooooooooo...)
AnyrandomsegueaboutSesameStreet, we finished up at the Met and headed to the nearest subway station. Which was basically opposite a Williams Sonoma. Sara practically had to drag me down to the subway station kicking and screaming. Which was probably for the best, because not only can I not afford anything in there, but it wouldn't have fitted in my suitcase! The subway ride back to the hotel was extra squishy and not particularly enjoyable. I'd told Paulie to swing by our hotel room at 5.30, so of course we were late getting back and Kat got to spend 15 minutes hanging out with some guy she'd spent 5 minutes talking to the night before. (Sorry Kat!!)
After watching several episodes of Beyond Scared Straight with horrified expressions on our faces, we headed downstairs to ask if there was a good Mexican restaurant nearby. And being New York, home to anything you could pretty much ever want (seriously, there's an Australian bar there. That sells actual Australian beer, and not Foster's!), there was one a couple of blocks away. First thing on the agenda? Cocktails. And being America, they were ridiculously sized.
|Photo courtesy of Paulie, who had a camera that could fit in his pocket...|
Kat then had some kind of salad that arrived in a bowl made of a giant fried tortilla. It was pretty awesome. Like an enormous nacho. My chimichanga, while delicious, wasn't nearly as exciting... SAD FACE.
Next up: 30 Rock, I brave Central Park again, and a busboy who I'm convinced was a robot...