Today I am planning a long weekend in The City. We go every year for a game convention and while Dan is up to his elbows in Napoleonics and dice I take Ella downtown for some skyscraping culture. Last year we looked at dolphins, this year we'll look at dinosaur bones. We'll also manage to hit the mall that I can't afford to play on the giant indoor fiberglass tree and marvel at three thousand dollar turtle necks, while hoarding free samples and signing up for catalogues.
The fiberglass tree play area is always an odd experience as most of the children are there with young hot trophy moms who are worried their children will get germs from touching the other kids, dads in suits who are worried they will loose the kid in the fenced in area guarded by 30 other hovering people, or a nanny that only looks up when she hears crying and yells to her charge half in Hungarian/Russian/Spanish and half English that he/she better be nice! Ella is always bewildered here; she approaches other children with the usual "Hi I'm Ella, I'm five, wanna play?" and is either completely ignored or put on hold while the other child, caught off guard, looks towards their mom/dad/nanny to see what they are supposed to do next. My conclusion - rich people are weird.
Every year we also go have sushi at this little place up the road, but this year we can get great sushi close to home so I'm determined to find something better. Steaks are also out as we have the best butchers close to home and I'd rather spend a chunk of money on a good cut of meat and take it home to cook it the way I love it, slathered in garlic and beer. So I'm leaning towards the Bank Lane Bistro but I think we'd better go for the lunch instead of the dinner as it's all alacarte and wonderful and I will want to order it all (lavender infused creme brule!) I'm telling you, the menus read like poetry.
Ella is looking forward to room service. We always have points left on a credit card that we can spend at this hotel but not on the actual room so we'll order room service every morning. She doesn't remember doing this last year and the idea that hot bacon and pancakes can be brought to you in bed is making her crazy with anticipation. Plus that's the only thing we've told her about the trip so far, the rest will be a surprise. I am looking forward to pretending I'm at the beach. I'll be barefoot and poolside with David Sedaris, while Ella doggy paddles herself silly in a chlorined life jacket. Oh who am I kidding, I'm looking forward to the whole thing!
2 comments:
Where do these guys find the young hot trophy wives? I can't find any.
I think you have to make enough money to build one. Like a custom car.
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