NYC, Saturday and Sunday

On Friday night, Susan and I had decided not to be in a rush Saturday morning. When we got up, we’d go have brunch somewhere. So we took our time Saturday morning and then met for brunch. We ate at Moonstruck Diner. I had the French toast with eggs and bacon. Susan had the western omelet sandwich. The French toast was huge and I could barely eat half of it, but the eggs and bacon were perfection. It was a very good meal. After brunch we decided to walk around and check out the neighborhood. I enjoyed seeing Susan’s neighborhood through her eyes. Eventually, we headed back to her apartment. Honestly, I’ve never seen an actual studio apartment before and hers was interesting and beautifully done. I eventually went back to my hotel to get ready for dinner. Had I not been sick with a cold, we’d have done and seen much more, but I just wasn’t up to it. All that will come when I return in June. We have more planned then. Anyway, Saturday night, we had dinner at Pete’s Tavern. It’s one of the oldes continuously opened bars in the city. Local legend has it that O. Henry wrote his well-known story "The Gift of the Magi" in the second booth from the front. I ordered the gumbo instead of a salad to begin with. Never do this. I don’t know what it was, but it wasn’t gumbo. It wasn’t half bad, it just wasn’t gumbo by any stretch of the imagination. I had the chicken piccata for my main dish. While it tasted good, it was unlike any chicken piccata I’ve ever had. When we left Pete’s we wondered around Gramercy for a while seeing the famous gated park there which is quite a lovely park. I knew Sunday would be a long day, so we didn’t do anything after that.

I woke up Sunday morning and had a Starbucks caramel latte before heading to Penn Station to catch my train. Penn Station is very confusing. Luckily, there were the guys in the red hats to help with anything you needed. One of the red hats got me to my train and I bid farewell to Susan. I settled into my chair for the next 8 or so hours. I’ve ridden trains in Europe before and it was always a gentle rocking. The Vermonter does not gently rock. It’s more like terrible turbulence in a plane. I was nauseated most of the way. Maybe if I had not had a cold, this wouldn’t have been the case, but I was so glad when we finally made it into the station at Montpelier. It was nice to be home.