NYC In Three Parts...Part 3

Journal Entry, day three, verbatim:
Slow day, coffee in bed, planning our day.  Beginning with a bagel, eaten outside in the city
 madness. 

Classic everything with cream cheese, yes please.

A short cab ride to change hotels and a walk through Times Square.  People everywhere.  Like Vegas on steroids.  Lights and tourist traps and t-shirt selling locals trying to hustle for a few bucks. 
Escape to the subway station to find The Plaza and Central Park.
Clearly we were not invited to the party at the Plaza so we rode the escalator down to where the food court and shops are.  Bakeries and restaurants, even a flower shop underneath the glamorous foyer.  High end shops no less but a glass of champagne was calling my name and at the counter so we toasted to the magic.  And then laughed because neither of us felt comfortable upstairs and if that isn't a metaphor for life I don't know what it.  There was an Eloise corner of the shops and we peeked in reminiscing about Thing 3 who was enamored with her.  A birthday card was bought and we were on our way.  There were carriages and pedi cabs waiting and vying for business on every corner.  School children on field trips and musicians filling the air with their songs.  And us, we held hands and walked the paths.  Lost in our own piece of mind.  An emerald forest in the middle of a concrete jungle.  Breathtaking.  Winding paths and a juxtaposition like I've never seen before.  City skyscrapers towering above. 

One of my favorites.

The lawns dotted with blankets and babies, lovers and dreamers.  Soaking in the sunshine and painting the beauty surrounding.  An experience I hadn't had before.  The business types unpacking their lunches and runners on a mission.  Tourists cycling in lanes unseen and us, eyes lifted and necks craned not wanting to miss anything. 

One of many bridges and archways throughout the park.

In front of the Bethesda Fountain. 

The sun caught us and we chased it all the way back to Chelsea where we explored the newly constructed High- Line and viewed the old tracks now covered with herbs and foliage.  Yet another representation of the dichotomy this city holds.  And what became my favorite boro in NYC.  We sat at a Mexican cafe and people watched, kicked our feet up and reveled in the fact that this trip actually happened.  I was out of words.  With swollen, achy feet due to my poor choice in shoes for the day we limped to the subway to ready ourselves for our last night in the city that never sleeps.  A late dinner at Babbo, a restaurant owned by chef Mario Batalli and a trip 102 floors up the Empire State Building.  Dinner was an event.  The restaurant was tucked away in a historic house in the Chelsea boro, once again.  The formage table was center stage and it was there we watched the sommelier choose wines and pour delicately, other staff de-boned fish and still others ran circles around the table waiting on their guests and ensuring everything was just right.  Only missing piece for the experience was music.  It ventured into the '90's and my heart raced.  Not a common choice for dinner music.  Nevertheless the food was indescribable and dessert that much better.  Thinking we were taking the city for all it had to offer this night we left rather impressed with ourselves and the fact that we were awake past 11pm.  Off to the Empire State building and to conquer my fear of heights. 


First stop, 102nd floor.  You would never know it was midnight when we entered, the line wove around like a ride at Disneyland, and by the time we left it was almost 1am.  To say the skyline was magical would be an understatement.  So far removed from the madness and chaos that ensues my first observation was quiet.  No horns to be heard or sirens.  Just city lights reflecting on the water and my love beside me.  Time for a selfie.  Yes we did.  Only thing was that 102 floors up with glass surrounding left us black shadows with a city somewhere behind us.  That was the end of our last night in the Big Apple.  Thank you NYC for the memories and moments made. 













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