2017 had finally arrived and we were in New York for the day. Time to make some moves. This was Brandon's first time to NYC so we let him take the reins.
We finally opened that box of convent baked cookies that we bought in Madrid. I took a bite and realized: these were the worst cookies I've ever tasted. Clearly Spain has been politely buying cookies from some cloistered nuns just to humor them. They had an anise flavor to them but someone forgot to add sugar. Jarringly bad.
This "I survived New Year's in Times Square" t-shirt got a knowing chuckle from me. It really was something to survive, wasn't it? And we weren't even the poor folks standing and waiting for 12 hours in the cold.
Brandon wanted to check out the gaudy faux golden headquarters of President-Elect He Who Shall Not Be Named. Why oh why did I take my impressionable friend to that Springfield pep-rally all those months ago? It was a more innocent time back then. Now we were at Castle Grayskull itself. I figured maybe we'd get lucky and see old orange mop jump off the top of it.
There was a funny sort of security in place. The sidewalk in front of the building was fenced in and lots of scary looking police were standing around guarding it. I thought maybe it was closed to visitors, but then noticed a line with some people being allowed to pass, so I got in it. The policeman guarding the entrance was simply asking people what their business was in the tower. If you said anything that didn't involve the tower then the cop would tell you to go around. So when it was my turn I just told him I wanted to get a drink at the restaurant. That was easy.
I bought zero anythings here.
There was a news crew with a camera pointed at the elevator apparently playing "spot that Nazi".
There wasn't a whole lot to see, but I'm glad we took a peek.
We took a stroll though Central Park and then headed back to Times Square. Brandon wanted a slice of New York style someplace.
We walked all the way over to where the ball had dropped so we could finally get a glance at it and... there was no ball.
Only after I'd had a couple slices did I walk outside and see the B health rating. New York style indeed.
Scientology recruiting propaganda.
Ho ho ho
We flew back to St. Louis and all high fived each other after another successful trip. Huzzah.