‘I know a girl made of memories and phrases, lives her whole life in chapters and phases…’

~ Jimmy Buffet ~

Part Deux

So Operation: Explore NYC on Foot was a success. Mostly. This time, we decided to mix a little mass transit in to maximize our time spent experiencing the cultural offerings. You would think that would have eliminated some of the mileage; but, at day’s end, my handy app determined that we had still somehow managed to cover 25,695 steps, or 10.71 miles. Just a walk in the park. Literally.

The thing about mass transit is that it doesn’t travel through Central Park. Shocking, I know. So, between our two trips clear across the entire width, plus plenty of aimless meandering down paths that, apparently, don’t travel in any particular direction, well, the miles definitely added up. 

Luckily, this time, I was smart enough to wear comfortable, albeit flat, shoes. No unscheduled Duane Reade stops for us this time around! But still, after about eight hours of standing, walking, climbing… the searing pain in the ball of your foot is pretty much the same, flip flops or no.

By the time we had explored Strawberry Fields, The Dakota, Belvedere Castle, the Shakespeare Garden and the Great Lawn, it was time for a snack. This was followed by a solid three hours perusing the European paintings of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, circling through gallery after gallery, until those incredibly uncomfortable looking benches began to look pretty cushy. 

Back through the Park we headed, this time passing the Bethesda Terrace and Fountain, the Bow Bridge and winding up at the famed Central Park Boathouse Restaurant. Knowing we were cutting it a little close, with no reservation, we hovered hopefully right as the dinner service began. Thankfully, we landed a prime spot overlooking the lake.

As we finished up, we had precisely 45 minutes to make our way out of the Park, across to the other side and down about a dozen blocks to Lincoln Center, where we had tickets to the American Ballet Theatre’s production of Cinderella. Doable. Sort of. 

As we ran across the plaza to the Metropolitan Opera House, change of shoes in hand, the clock struck 7:30 p.m. Inside, a long line stretched through the lobby with dozens of patrons waiting at the Will Call window to pick up their tickets. Just. Made. It.

 

Published: July 15, 2015

The Incident Report

Don’t Forget the Flats

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