My husband and I celebrated our 3rd anniversary this week and we had to laugh at how our anniversary plans always seem to fall through.
This was our first one in New York City, so we wanted it to be really fun. Since I've been wanting to take a carriage ride through Central Park, we decided on the park's Boathouse restaurant, thinking we could eat dinner first and then do a carriage ride after words. (And it doesn't hurt that this restaurant happens to be in my favorite TV show of all time--Sex and the City, and in one of my favorite movies, 27 Dresses).
I made reservations on Thursday night at 7:45 p.m. Since we live near the park, we decided to walk to dinner. It had just stopped raining, so walking the 1.2 miles there was like walking through the swampy Florida everglades. It didn't take long for my hair to become a full-on 'fro. The plus side though-- the park was nearly empty except for a few lost foreign tourists.
By the time we weaved our way there, it was a toss-up on what was more miserable--my swollen feet stuffed into high heels or the sweat running down my back. I have to admit I was a little disheartened when I realized the Boathouse restaurant is entirely outdoors, so with 80+ degree weather and 100% humidity, there was no way to cool down. Even the bathroom attendant looked like she was going to pass out.
We checked in with the hostess who told us it would be a little bit of a wait, but we could get drinks at the bar. I sat down, hoping to reduce my heat stroke symptoms and regain consciousness while Mike got us drinks. The female bartender looked at him once, twice, three times... and nothing. She helped everyone around him, including people who came up to the bar after him. He eventually stopped trying. (Did she not see how good-looking he was??? Sheesh.)
After awhile, the crowds cleared out, so we sat at a table near the hostess stand. We then noticed people around us were getting tables, so I went to check on our status. When I gave our name, the hostess said:
"Oh, is your entire party here now?"
Me: "Um, what do you mean? My husband and I have been sitting 10 feet away from you for an hour."
Her: "Oh, um, he told me he was waiting for you to arrive."
Liar, liar, pants on fire. This is hostess speak for "We forgot about you."
She then handed me a buzzer and said it would be a few more minutes while I simultaneously contemplated all the places I could shove that buzzer.
We left.
While walking the 1.2 miles back home, we decided we would still try to make it a fun night and get a carriage ride. With nearly bloody-feet, I hobbled to the nearest carriage and asked for a ride, but quickly realized every tourist had the same idea and they were all taken.
Sigh. (Would it be wrong to hire a homeless man to give me a piggyback ride?)
We ended up going to a cute little Italian restaurant in our neighborhood and had a great dinner. And luckily, we didn't spend $300 like our anniversary debacle of 2011.
We toasted to another year of wedded bliss and fewer days of sweaty butt crack.
I told Mike later, I guess if our biggest anniversary problem is that we didn't get good service at a nice New York City restaurant, we're doing pretty well.
Happy Anniversary MikeE!
This was our first one in New York City, so we wanted it to be really fun. Since I've been wanting to take a carriage ride through Central Park, we decided on the park's Boathouse restaurant, thinking we could eat dinner first and then do a carriage ride after words. (And it doesn't hurt that this restaurant happens to be in my favorite TV show of all time--Sex and the City, and in one of my favorite movies, 27 Dresses).
 |
| Courtesy: Iamnotastalker.com |
By the time we weaved our way there, it was a toss-up on what was more miserable--my swollen feet stuffed into high heels or the sweat running down my back. I have to admit I was a little disheartened when I realized the Boathouse restaurant is entirely outdoors, so with 80+ degree weather and 100% humidity, there was no way to cool down. Even the bathroom attendant looked like she was going to pass out.
We checked in with the hostess who told us it would be a little bit of a wait, but we could get drinks at the bar. I sat down, hoping to reduce my heat stroke symptoms and regain consciousness while Mike got us drinks. The female bartender looked at him once, twice, three times... and nothing. She helped everyone around him, including people who came up to the bar after him. He eventually stopped trying. (Did she not see how good-looking he was??? Sheesh.)
After awhile, the crowds cleared out, so we sat at a table near the hostess stand. We then noticed people around us were getting tables, so I went to check on our status. When I gave our name, the hostess said:
"Oh, is your entire party here now?"
Me: "Um, what do you mean? My husband and I have been sitting 10 feet away from you for an hour."
Her: "Oh, um, he told me he was waiting for you to arrive."
Liar, liar, pants on fire. This is hostess speak for "We forgot about you."
She then handed me a buzzer and said it would be a few more minutes while I simultaneously contemplated all the places I could shove that buzzer.
We left.
While walking the 1.2 miles back home, we decided we would still try to make it a fun night and get a carriage ride. With nearly bloody-feet, I hobbled to the nearest carriage and asked for a ride, but quickly realized every tourist had the same idea and they were all taken.
Sigh. (Would it be wrong to hire a homeless man to give me a piggyback ride?)
We ended up going to a cute little Italian restaurant in our neighborhood and had a great dinner. And luckily, we didn't spend $300 like our anniversary debacle of 2011.
 |
| Sweaty 1.2 mile walk=shiny forehead |
We toasted to another year of wedded bliss and fewer days of sweaty butt crack.
I told Mike later, I guess if our biggest anniversary problem is that we didn't get good service at a nice New York City restaurant, we're doing pretty well.
Happy Anniversary MikeE!
No comments:
Post a Comment