Feet only complaining of assault & battery today ...

... Morning(ish) was spent at the Morgan, where I intended to buy everybloodything with Morgan on it. Ended up with a couple of mugs and a bag! There were NO T-SHIRTS! The disappointment could be cut through with a knife I tell you. The Illuminations were amazing, if not for the weight I'd have bought 107million books, and bought a new case to keep them in. I fell in love with Mr Morgan's actual library, 3 storeys! And a big stone fireplace I could stand up in. I so wish I was that sort of rich.
We stayed so long lunch was in order, and tres elegant it was too, with wine. Cost a bomb but what the hell, we are on holiday after all.
Next up, the Top of the Rock, the Rockefeller Centre. No vertigo here as the observation platforms were not even the littlest bit wibbly. We decided to do this rather than go up the Empire State Building, so we could actually SEE the Empire State Building, and so much more besides. Mr Brown displayed the patience of a saint and did not fling me from the top, bless (but if that gap had been wider ...). And then we made a wild dash for MOMA, and I'm so very glad we did, what a spot, what Art. The temptation to snatch and run was most strong within me.
What a beautiful sculpture garden, what a terribly saucy Picasso goat. We even bought Rupert a present in the museum shop, a sort of grippy tripod thingo. Again my capacity to carry and weight restrictions on the flight home restrained me from a major assault on the book section. Sigh, O for a private jet.
We ran out of time and missed the Guggenheim again. I'm wondering if it is our fate to never get inside.
A wild, woolly and fractious trip back to the hotel next, to shower, apply a bit of slap, pop on a frock (clean trousers for Mr Brown, we found a wash and fold place that did a shitload of laundry for $10, no more socks in the sink for me!) and get out to the River Cafe in Brooklyn for dinner. We made it, despite a wrong turn and forgotten MetroCard, only 5 minutes late.
Neither of us noted the "jackets required" rule, but the lovely young woman at the front desk lent one to Mr Brown, it even went with his trousers. No tie was required though, which was odd.
The restaurant floats, so when a stink boat whizzed past the whole room moved most disconcertingly. But the view, as the sun went down and the lights of Manhattan came on, the best view of Manhattan by far (except maybe from the Rockefeller, but still...)
The food was wonderful, and beautiful. I started with the Crab and Coconut Bisque, because I could not go past a dish with "peekeytoe crab", who could? Well, Mr Brown could because he had the ravioli special, nice but no peekeytoes! I'll admit, "peekeytoe" was said many, many times and will continue to be said for some time to come.
This was followed by the duck (of course) and the salmon. Mr Brown won the dessert prize with his Chocolate Marquise Brooklyn Bridge, though my Goat Cheese Cheesecake was wonderful, just the right touch of "farmyard" and very passionfruity.
I must say the service thing in the Excited States is way over the top. We were attended to, throughout the night by at least 6 different waiters, all with their own tasks. There's the water guy, the bread guy, the chap who takes your wine order, the fellow who takes your order, the servers ... back home this would all be covered by one person. And the underselling was surprising. Nobody suggested a pre-dinner drinkie (so we did), nobody suggested a dessert wine (so we did, we think we may have come across as a couple of pisspots), again, totally different from home.
O, and (tee hee) Mr Brown sat for ages waiting for someone to pop is serviette in his lap, until I reminded him this was not the American way (I remembered reading about how Americans in Australia are shocked but the placing of the serviette in one's lap by one's waiter, apparently it is considered shocking to have some chap's hand so close to one's groin).
Then home, by clean, cool, uncrowded, vomit-free subway, where we took pictures of each other's blisters - no, I won't be posting those shots, promise.