Part Seven: Boy and girl go to NYC (Part 1)

The date: July 15-19, 2000. The place: New York City…

After spending a glorious week together getting reacquainted, the two of us went our separate ways for a little while—traveling on business for me, visiting her brother and grandmother for her. But two weeks later, she was back in my arms, and shortly after that, we were off for a quickly planned getaway to New York City…

The trip down was relatively uneventful. To avoid subjecting our car to NYC traffic, we took the train from Boston’s South Station down to NYC’s Penn Station, then took a cab to our hotel. (As an aside, if you ever want to stay at a hotel on the Upper West Side, I can’t recommend the Hotel Lucerne highly enough—charming rooms, great location, and an incredible staff. We can’t wait to stay there again.) Unfortunately, I ended up with a mini-migraine and pretty much crashed for a couple of hours after we got to the room, but dinner and a good night’s sleep later, I was ready to roll.

Walking around the corner from the hotel the next morning, we stopped for breakfast at a little sidewalk cafe, still pretty uncrowded at this time of day. Just sitting at our table was a joy for the both of us—NYC is the ultimate for people-watching types (like the both of us), and I constantly found myself just soaking up the sounds around me. It sounds trite, I know, but it was exhilarating to a visitor like me.

The breakfast was most notable, however, for our waiter. You see, my sweetie had asked for some sour cream to go with her omelette, but our waiter regretably informed us that they didn’t have any at the time. No big deal, she said, and we continued munching away. Moments later, she spies the waiting slipping out of the cafe and heading down the sidewalk, returning a few minutes later with a tightly held grocery bag. The next thing you know, she had sour cream. And it dawned on us what he had done. (Maybe this sort of stuff happens all the time at your typical New York City sidewalk cafe, but I rather doubt it.) She managed to catch his eye as he stood near the front counter, and she mouthed a silent “thank you” to him as she nodded knowingly at his actions. A sheepish sort of smile quickly passed across his face, perhaps a bit embarassed to have been caught. When he brought us the bill, she told him that she had seen what he had done and how much she appreciated him going out of his way like that (turns out he had done this on his own initiative). Again, the sheepish smile. As we left the cafe, we made sure to thank our waiter again, smiled (again) in amazement at his gesture, and thought that this was a heckuva way to start our first full day in The City.

The whole story: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12]