Central Park does not = Central Perk

Central Park is gorgeous. And gigantic. According to Wikipedia (which is never wrong), Central Park is a large urban park. It is also larger than 2 countries: Monaco and Vatican City. Census 2000 has Central Park's population listed as 18 people, 12 male and 6 female.

On two lovely days, I was one of that group of 6 (and even that is debatable because in 10th grade, I volunteered to tutor elementary kids and one stupid kid asked me if I was a boy or girl).

Day 1
The first day, I walked over to Central Park from Big's apartment with the intention of going for a quick run before meeting Little, Voorhees, and Big for breakfast/brunch.

Five minutes into the run, Little calls me and says, "Hey, remember that walk we were going to take through Central Park on our way to brunch? We'll be done in 20 minutes. See you then!" So I start to run a little faster. A little bit later, I get another call. "Hi, we're here now. Our name is on the list. How long before you're here?"

Meanwhile, Big is trying to get ready and meet us at the brunch place. She has 20 minutes to get dressed and somehow transport a mile. At the same time, I keep calling her because I'm lost.

My phone is about to die, I am trying to balance talking to Little and talking to Big, and I am running around lost. I stop by a hot dog stand and ask the man where Central Park South is. He looks at me and kind of laughs. Then informs me that Central Park South is on the other side of the park. I have been running north this entire time.

Voorhees then puts her sister on the phone who tells me that I am going in the wrong direction. Yes, yes I know that. She tells me to go south. Yes, yes I know that. Thank you.

Big has decided that she is just going to come get me. She tells me to find a way out of the park and wait on the street, like a hooker, and she will come collect me, like my pimp. I stumble through some sort of public protest (where a crazy man is ranting about the war) onto Central Park West. You can see a pic of it on the left. I sit down next to a man with a "Why lie? I need the money for beer" sign. I tell him, "Amen."

I get a call from Voorhees. She asks me where I am, I tell her. "Omg. You still have to go down 13 blocks and over some. Can you catch a cab? We've been waiting forever." I tell them that I'm sorry, just eat without me and Big. 15 minutes later, as Homeless-Beer-Dude and I are having a grand time chatting, Big comes and gets me. We go to brunch on our own. It is delicious.

We went to Sarabeth's, which is where Little, Voorhees, and her older sister went to brunch. We just happened to be at a different location, a whole lot later. Sweating, in an atrocious outfit, and feeling sick from sprinting through the park, all I can even comprehend digesting is a giant bowl of granola. With honey and milk and strawberries and bananas. Big got a pumpkin waffle.



It was delicious. Excellent life choice. What was NOT an excellent life choice, however, was the three cups of coffee I drank in lieu of water. Also, if you'll note in the first picture the platter of toppings. Big asked for everything on the side. And by everything, I mean EVERYTHING. On that platter are toasted pumpkin seeds, raisins, honey, powdered sugar, and sour cream.

Omg. The pumpkin waffle was light and dense. When you first bite into it, it tastes like a dense piece of delicious pumpkin heaven. But as you chew, through the magic of physics and beyond human understanding, the waffle gets lighter and leaves a very waffle and slightly sweet taste in your mouth. The granola was rich and crunchy and so delicious with fresh strawberries and banana. I put a little bit of honey on, though it wasn't necessary.

Day 2
The second day started off a little better. There was no deadline, no time pressure, no frantic phone calls. I started off the run nice and slow, without a care in the world. Until it started to rain. Pouring down. I think, "Not a big deal. I love running in the rain." Too bad I'm one of probably 5 runners out and I'm the asshole wearing the bright pink shirt with a picture of a nurse touching herself on the back (with the motto "Jealousy is a disease. Feel better soon.").

At one point, the rain is coming down so hard I can't see. I run off on a side path and stand under a tree. All these old couples and stupid tourists walk by with these smug looks on their faces with their stupid fancy umbrellas and stupid raincoats. Dead to me.

I finally just give up and keep running. The rain only comes down harder. Once again, I'm lost. I see signs that take me out to the street. And by street, I mean 5th Avenue. I keep running and decide I'll just cut back into the park when I get a chance. Unfamiliar with Central Park, I am unaware that entrances to Central Park, especially off 5th Avenue, are few and far between. All the tourists and Upper East Side shoppers are definitely staring at me. I am drenched, my clothes are sticking to me, and with that ridiculous motto on the back... sigh.

By the time I finish my run, it's 1.5 hours later and I've basically completed the 6 mile loop around the Park and then some. Completely soaked. Struggling to breathe. I call Little and end up laying down on a bench like the homeless guy I talked to the day before. I wish I had a sign for beer.