We really should have known that it wasn't going to be great when this happened:
Waitress: Can I get you guys some drinks to start?
Sara: I'm fine with water.
Me: Can I get a Sprite, please?
Kat: I'll have the cab sav [points at cabernet sauvignon on wine list]
Waitress: Sure thing!
[five minutes later]
Waitress: Okay. Here are your drinks. Three waters, a Sprite, and a White Zinfandel!
Um, NO. They're not in any way the same thing. We eventually got that little misunderstanding sorted out, and resolved not to use Antipodean abbreviations in American restaurants again.
I kind of wanted to order pizza, but a small pizza was 16" (!!!), and it seemed like you could pretty much only have a cheese pizza, and then pay extra to add a very limited number of toppings to it. As one of the few vegetarian toppings was broccoli, and as I'd learnt my lesson about broccoli and pizza in Chicago, I ended up ordering ravioli. As we were waiting for our food to arrive, we noticed that we had a ridiculously attentive busboy. Any time anyone in the restaurant so much as picked up their glass of water, he'd rush over with a jug to refill it the second they put it down. The same happened with clearing tables. No matter how far away the plates seemed to be, he'd make EXACTLY the same movement and they were suddenly in a pile in his hand. I quickly developed a theory that he was a robot busboy. This theory was further supported when he snatched Kat's plate away before she'd even put the cutlery down. Awkward. And definitely a robot.
And yet, despite the ridiculously attentive service from the busboy, we had to sit around the table looking expectant for a millionty years before we could get dessert. Sadly, the dessert turned out to be not worth the wait. Sigh. Not really what I'd hoped for on our last night in New York.
Join me next time for the trip up to Boston.
Sorry. I just wanted an excuse to include that somewhere...