Two days of vile sickness followed one of the best days I've ever had. Super hard to impart witticisms when you're wearing track pants and folded into the fetal position. That is when you're not in the bathroom playing guess which orifice is going to punish me this time??!! Feeling much better this morning, fingers crossed.
The anniversary trip, 24 hours in NYC with R, was amazing! I knew that I was getting sick but held myself together and I don't think R had a clue. In fact I was so convincing I think even my body believed my own bullshit for the day, that's the only explanation for why it waited until returning to Charlotte to turn me inside out. So even thought it was really mean to me Thursday and Friday, I would like to thank it for behaving itself Wednesday.
The morning started with breakfast at the Ritz on Central Park. And when your day starts at the Ritz, the bar is set pretty high. In all my wisdom I thought it was perfectly ok to wear my platform wedges for a day filled with walking. I was already quit fucked by the time we arrived at MOMA, which wasn't very far away from the hotel. But thought it too soon to complain since I had been repeatedly warned by R. After the tiniest little security guards with very official walkie talkies let us into the museum we did what we always do. Go to two exhibits before getting bored and heading to the gift shop, where we spend scads of time. Not sure when we'll learn that if we don't spend $50 on admission, we'll have $50 more to spend at the gift shop.
From there we went to MOOD fabrics. A certified Project Runway addict will understand my need to visit this joint. It was so awesome I forgot my feet hurt. I think I touched every piece of fabric in the place, even R wasn't bored, it's that amazing. I geeked out on fabric for 40 minutes than bought my "Thank You Mood" T-shirt. At this point we were hungry again. What better place to have lunch than the outdoor restaurant at Bryant Park, where they do the Project Runway finale? Lunch was delish, a little rose to help wash it down.
It was useless to pretend anymore, I needed to buy flats urgently. We went straight to Zara, where I scored a lovely pair of royal blue ballet flats. My feet took 1/2 to forgive me, but they finally did. After walking some more we headed back to the Ritz for an afternoon nap before dinner. I still had no idea what was planned for the evening, but apparently we were going to be up late, cause R doesn't nap.
When we awoke and got ourselves looking refreshed and glammed up we headed out to dinner. Unfortunately the acquisition of a cab at 6:15pm is a contact sport and we were quite late for our reservation. We ate dinner and drank a bottle of champagne like we had entered a state fair eating contest.
Even thought the food only passed over our tongues, with barely a chance to touch, it was divine. Our lovely hostess took it upon herself to grab the next taxi so that we wouldn't be late for the theater. It started to pour down rain while we were in the cab, and in true NY fashion, the cab driver deemed us close enough and stopped a block away from the Majestic. Cue scene of dressed up couple running down a wet New York street laughing...
I have been in love with the Phantom of the Opera since before I was in love with R. It happened while I was in Fashion school. We were putting on a fashion show for the Festival of Fashion and Music of the Night was one of the songs the models walked to, wearing beautiful evening dresses. I was forever entranced. I bought the score from the original London cast and learned every word, every nuance. When I met R, I shared my love for it with him. Our wedding song was supposed to be All I Ask of You, but due to an enormous fuck-up by the bargain basement DJ that didn't happen. At any rate, I had this built up to a point where I almost didn't want to see a performance because I didn't think it could live up to what I had in my head. I was so wrong! It was the most amazing, breathtaking dream come true. I don't know how many times I cried, but it started with the first line or the opera. I can't thank R enough for giving me that experience.
The night was capped off with a carriage ride through Central Park were R enjoyed a cigar and we both did not enjoy the bad bubbly juice we picked up at the only open store. We entered the Ritz for a night cap and managed to score scotch that was $100 a shot for $20 because of the generosity of a waiter, who's ass is going to be kicked by the bartender for the next week. I didn't want it to end. Can I hit replay??
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