Ingrid, who in my head I call Ingressio for no particular reason, graced me with her presence one fabulous August weekend of not too long ago. Her first night in, both of us carrying way to much baggage to pass as posh, hip or cool in the dimly lit side streets of SoHo, meandered our way down the cobbled streets to an unmarked bar called Lit Lounge. Inside, down the steep staircase, below the swinging single uncovered light and past the hipster in matte red lipstick collecting our money, stamping our hands, and adorning our wrists with paper wrist bands, we watched, in a crowded basement room, Saturn Unleashed play their set. I know the bass player. His name is Chris. They put on a good show, but it wasn’t our type of music. Before the Lit Lounge, Ingrid and I had stopped on Mulberry Street and shared a Rubirosa pizza that hit the post-work / travel spot. We later retired at my apartment, taking in the view from the balcony with the twinkling Manhattan skyline lingering like a mirage in the distance.
Saturday was chill. We awoke with the sun bouncing off Freedom Tower and making its way into my room. Breakfast was had at 12 Chairs and Ingrid possibly figured out the secret ingredient in their delicious pancakes: poppyseed. Those pancakes are the best I’ve ever had. Our next goal was the High Line in Chelsea but first we walked the morning streets of Soho, seeing the neighborhood under quite different circumstances and then we hopped onto the train and popped back up at Union Square. The Strand was explored and we were tickled pink when tourists stopped us, two Texans, to ask for directions. Along the way we stopped inside a Starbucks to take of advantage of their before 2AM offer. I had a mocha frappuccino. Finally, the black and metal staircase leading up to the High Line greeted us and we made our ascent into the above ground public park.
It was beautiful day up on the High Line and we took in the sights and sounds of all who came to explore. Even the People’s Pop Man gave us a wink of the eye as I snuck a shot of him doing his routine. However, our stomachs began to rumble and so we descended back onto city’s pavement and made our way to Chelsea Market. It took us a while to get back to Chelsea Market because we found this cute little local shop called STORY that only sold “locally made” products from across the USA. Products lined the walls displayed carefully by their regions. At the end, in the “West Coast” section, we spied a Tattly Tattoo Machine and like the children of the 90s that we are inserts some quarters and awaited in anticipation at our surprise gift. Ingrid received a fun swirly cone and I a toy robot.
Chelsea Market was finally upon us and we snaked our way through the various booths and stores trying to figure out exactly what we would eat. We settled on Rana and indulged in the freshly made pasta dishes.
The sun began its decent as we traveled to Queens to check out the well-reviewed Museum of Moving Image. The interior was sleek and clean and the elevator to the top floor reminded me of Sydney Bristow’s entrance into SD-6. Our experience was AMAZING. The museum sported original props and film negatives, displayed physical timelines of the film camera and television set, offered interactive exhibits like recording your own ADR, acting as Sound Supervisor on famous movie clips and we even created our own stop motion movies and flip books! Although, it was a little weird seeing the old gaming sets in the museum that I remembered playing as a kid. Are we really that old? Toward the end of the museum there was an old movie theater – we’re actually still unsure of what it was exactly – but we bravely explored its narrow hallways and came upon a glass window in one of the walls. There was also a lever that said, “Pull Me.” Ingrid and I shared a glance and deep breath and nearly let out a scream as we pulled the lever and a mummy jumped out of a casket! In the end, per my tradition, I wanted to buy a postcard but alas the museum and its shop was closing and so we said adieu to Queens and headed back to Brooklyn.
When it came to deciding dinner, we were quite the indecisive duo, so I made tilapia and broccoli and poured ourselves glasses of red wine. We settled onto the futon and pulled up Safety Not Guaranteed on Netflix.
The morning church bells rang as Ingrid got up and went to mass as the good Catholic as she is. I on the other hand took the morning to sleep in, grocery shop, and make breakfast for the pair of us. We indulged on waffles and freshly cut strawberries before hitting up Cafe Regular around the corner for our morning cups of coffee.
Central Park was the first stop on our short list for Sunday and we happened upon a pickup game of Quidditch near West 86th Street. Of course I had to play and Ingrid patiently let me live out that fantasy. Later, needing water and panting profusely, we walked along The Resoivoir to the east side and made our way down to The Met. I was excited to see Goya and once on the roof I was taken away with an art installation by Imran Quereshi. The view of Central Park was amazing from six stories up but in the end we needed to head back and grab Ingrid’s luggage for her journey back home. It was a mad rush to the apartment and back to her Megabus stop, but everything, like nearly always, worked out in the end.
Can’t wait to visit her in DC and have quite the Capitol adventure!