NY Day 4: Maids in Manhattan and Tito's Return
- Lauren Elise Funaro
- Nov 7, 2017
- 4 min read
Taking advantage of this step in my professional writing career by jet-setting on a lavish vacation I certainly cannot afford. Stay tuned for every inevitable fumble, wrong turn, and overpriced meal as LAUREN TAKES NEW YORK!
I was slow moving this morning, bedridden from an unforeseen illness diagnosed as one too many Long Island Iced Teas. Kerra had showered, returned, and flicked on the light before I got the hint and prepared for the day. The forecast promised no rain, and in our blissful naivety we believed. So Kerra curled her hair and we each left the apartment sans hood. Ready for Central Park and a partially cloudy day, we made way to the C train toward Manhattan.
We left the subway across from a large row of trees. Instead of heading straight toward them to begin our adventure, we found a food vendor. Then, fists full of either hamburger or bagel, we walked in what we hoped was the right direction. Luckily, before we had to ask a stranger "Is this Central Park?" an entrance opened at the end of the street, leading to a large pathway that looked promising.
Now, I'm not sure what I expected, but Central Park is much less like your local playground than it is Disneyland-- complete with a fairytale cottage, miniature stadium, lake, and castle. I'm not even exaggerating, there is a legitimate castle in Central Park! It's all the family fun of an amusement park without the monopolizing infrastructure and hundred dollar ticket (though I'm more than willing to buy into all that-- your girl loves her some Disney Magic.) And that's only the stuff we saw passing through, rumors of an ice rink and zoo we've yet to prove, though I wouldn't be surprised.
It was in the castle, as we marveled over the view of Manhattan, that we learned the weather forecast had betrayed us. Drizzle splattered on our hoodless heads, and Kerra rushed to cover her hair. We realized our itinerary needed a change up to incorporate shelter. I searched through our options, and found the Metropolitan Museum of Art was only a nine minute walk away. As we were already being rained on, there was no more to lose. We forged through, Kerra staring bravely forward, her jacket firmly propped over her hair.
There are giant signs hanging along either side of the Met, but they are unnecessary. The building is artwork in itself, with curved pillars and arched windows that my online research attributes to the Beaux-Arts architecture of the neoclassical period. Inside is no less impressive. There are marble statues and several entryways leading visitors through the seventeen different exhibits of various passages in time. The place commands reverence and inquisition. We responded accordingly-- examples of art's transformation in the modern age-- by taking selfies with ancient artifacts. From Italy's Renaissance to the Egyptian golden age, there was no suit of armor or sacred scripture safe from our Snapchat stories. We strolled for about two hours, marveling and posing, until a very exciting text changed our day, and possibly the course of our lives forever...
It was Tito! Back and better than ever, very much alive and ready to serve us pizza. Turned out he had tried to call Kerra during our karaoke session the night before, but poor reception had left them star-crossed and Kerra dumbfounded. She played coy for about five minutes before saying we'd visit within the hour. So we strolled from Europe to the Americas, wandered around some gorgeous architecture, then bounded off to meet our pal.
Two slices down, we were ready for more of the city. We bid Tito farewell with promise of a later return, headed through Times Square, passed Radio City Music Hall, and wound up at Rockefeller Center. Twinkling lights circled trees and connected lamp posts. It seems that, like me, New York City starts Christmas the moment Halloween tosses out its last pumpkin. We strolled to the ice rink, peaking through windows in search of coats, since we are determined to leave New York looking classier than your favorite episode of Sex and the City. We found none within our price range, but refused to be undeterred. Still, we were unsure of what to do next. We eventually agreed free food was the way to go, and headed back to Tito, his earlier promise of donuts dancing through our heads. Not only did he deliver, throwing in a cannoli for good measure, but he also introduced us to his uncle, Solomon, who owns the pizza place.
Solomon embraced us, basically telling Kerra he'd let her marry Tito if she really wanted. Kerra laughed awkwardly, but we took the food anyway. We didn't have the heart to break it to Solomon that we'd be leaving the state in four days. Instead of accepting Tito's uncle's proposal, we sat and discussed politics, sipping on tea and stuffing our faces with saturated fats. We left full of bliss and too many carbs, waving goodbye to what very well may become Kerra's new In-Law. Getting back to the Airbnb, we snuggled under the covers, proud of our day. After some deliberation, Kerra thinks she'd want a winter wedding, we'll be sure to let Tito's uncle know.
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