A new 62 bus pulls up to the stop. I’m excited to get in this new blue and yellow bus (the old ones were primarily white and black).
Turns out, the new buses are basically the same, except for there will be an option to swipe into the bus using your phone soon, not just your MTA card.
The ferry departs St. George. It’s 60 degrees outside with blue skies, so it should be a good ride. I sit on the side opposite of the Statue of Liberty, and it’s still crowded. It’s going to be a crowded day in the city, I can tell. Probably because it’s so nice.
There’s a little curly-haired blonde girl with a unicorn-eared headband taking pics of whatever’s outside (nothing special, I can assure you. Just nondescript buildings and what looks like a condo complex). She’s using a phone that I hope is her mom’s.
Naturally, this is the time “Jesus saves sinners” preachers come through. Kids having phones and street preachers annoy me about the same. Surprisingly, it’s led by a young dark-haired boy wearing a red shirt that says “Jesus saves sinners.”
The girl’s mom says “God bless, have a good day,” with an unamused look on her face.
They continue walking back and forth and preaching god only knows what. I turn up my headphones.
The mom yells something I can’t hear because ‘Way Too Much’ by Justin Roberts (don’t judge) is so loud in my headphones. But they go to the other side. The mom says “as long as they’re not over here,” to her kids.
The ferry feels wild today. Maybe I just haven’t taken a ferry on a Saturday in a while, but it feels crowded and loud. But then the announcement asking crew members to prepare for docking comes on, and I’m ready to move to the next crowded mode of transport: the train.
After a quick wander around Whitehall Ferry Terminal, I learn Victor is nowhere near it. So I walk out of the ferry terminal, and try to patiently wait for him near a traffic light that is dangerously close to where I work.
Victor and I arrive at the Met and take off toward the Costume Institute, but get distracted by the ancient Egypt exhibit. We talk about the height of ancient people, wondering if tallness is something that’s relatively new based on the size of the sarcophaguses we’re seeing and the size of doorways I walked through in Doune Castle when I was in Scotland.
We make our way up the stairs toward the Costume Institute’s new exhibit, Camp: Notes on Fashion. Well, that is until we discover the line to get in to it will probably have us waiting for over an hour. So we decide to come back in August, when the exhibit is less new.
We wander around the European Paintings section, since we're already on the second floor. We find some iconic works, such as Little Dancer Aged 14 by Degas and Wheat Field with Cypresses by Van Gogh, not to mention a healthy amount of Monet and Manets.
We come back downstairs to look at the arms and armor exhibit. Here stands the most intricate suits of armor I’ve ever seen, including pieces once worn by Japanese samurais and utilized in British jousting tournaments. Not to mention every kind of jewel encrusted gun, sword and bow and arrow you could imagine (and probably some you can’t.)
The Met has been fun, but it’s time to go get something to eat. We head out to a cafe called E.A.T. that’s about a 5 minute walk from the museum.
After being incredibly indecisive about what to order, I finally decide on lox and eggs (scrambled eggs with smoked salmon and caramelized onions), and Victor orders macaroni and cheese, that I believe has gruyere cheese in it and is topped with some breadcrumbs.
We devour our lunch/dinner and order dessert, of course. We select a lemon meringue tart, that we both agree is a VERY lemony, but it’s good nonetheless.
We head out, getting lost in Central Park trying to figure out how to get to the 1 train. I get frustrated and decide we should just take the 4 or 5. So we do. We turn back around and find the train station from which we came.
We arrive at Whitehall ferry terminal, just in time for me to take the 6 o’clock ferry back to Staten Island. Victor stands with me while I wait for the doors to open and allow the crowd to board the great orange vessel everyone calls “the boat.” The doors open, and Victor gives me a kiss on the head, and we tell each other to text when we get home. And surely, we do.