Mrs. BD and I spent a balmy (low 50s) Sunday tramping around midtown because we had a special date day for elegant lunch and ballet, and walking around NYC is something we love to do. Golly, it is a blast to walk around and to look around.
Instead of tramping, I should have said "Trumping" around midtown. That is because The Donald was on our minds, and we must have passed ten buildings with his name on them. Not to mention the Plaza Hotel which he used to own. We kept laughing about it, and I laughed some more when we got to one of our favorite NYC lunch joints - Jean-Georges right off Columbus Circle. Wonderful prix-fixe luncheons. Damn if I had never noticed before that it is on the ground floor of The Trump International Hotel and Tower, southernmost building on Central Park West.
View from our table, Central Park on left, Columbus Circle on right, mounted cop in center, construction cranes everywhere in the sky:
Just a couple more pics below the fold. Marianne would have enjoyed all this.
Grand Army Plaza and the Plaza Hotel. As a youth, I drove the horse and buggies there. Most fun part? Racing our horses down mostly-vacant streets at 2 or 3 in the morning back to the stables over by 12th Ave. Amazing that we survived that cowboy fun.
Peeking into a pond in Central Park. Gee, that's not far from the giant Woolman ice rink which The Donald rebuilt for the city in 6 months after the city employees failed after 6 years of work.
So many horses along Central Park South. The mayor is a jerk, an idiot, and corrupt. Urban lefty pols are always corrupt. The Donald shoulda run for mayor.
The Kochs have given abundantly to NYC medical centers and cultural centers. Our New York City Ballet tix were at the Koch theater, of course, in Lincoln Center.
In my life I have seen tons of ballet and tons of modern dance, and have been educated all about it. It's worth doing. It still does not connect with my brain any more than NASCAR does. To each his own. The NYCB is always sold out, and people of all ages from kids to wheelchairs. Glad about that. Without the rich, high cultcha would disappear.
The darn basement of Grand Central Station (Terminal) has more comfort, appeal, humanity, and charm than that new terminal at the World Trade Center we linked about this morning.