#your cousin is talented that literally looks delicious i would not leave that table if i saw that at a party | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ohtheseboysilove · 4 years

Note

omg! can you pls make a part 2 of your little fic where Roger and the Reader make Christmas cookies at 2 am? I absolutely adored it! I need them to kiss!!!

1744 words. Fluff.

Part 1 is here!

You looked at your plates of cookies, neatly decorated and fresh from this night. Freddie was more than happy of your work and had pay you way more than he was supposed to. He always been a generous man, you couldn’t denied that.

"(Y/N), these cookies are absolutely delicious" You beamed at Brian’s words, Chrissie next to him, nodding along.

"Thank you Bri" You blushed slightly and thanked every guest who complimented you about your baking.

You used the occasion to do some publicity for your little shop, it never hurt to have new customers.

Until this girl came at the table where the desserts were, a red dress with a black belt, clearly trying the Santa Claus look.

"Hi there, did you cook those ?" She asked with a friendly voice, her fingers grabbing the little Christmas tree cookie before taking a big chunk. "It’s really good !”

"Thank you very much ! And yes, I own a bakery so I was on cookies duty for the party" You explained with a little chuckle, sipping your champagne glass.

"Well I will certainly need the address, you’re very talented" She grinned and took another cookie, a bright yellow star this time. "We really can feel the vanilla in this one, love it” She complimented you as she discretely wiped the crumbles from her dress.

"Here you go” You showed her the little cards next to the cookies with the address of your bakery and your number to pass order. "Are a friend of Freddie ?" You asked politely as she glanced at you card before sliding it in her bag.

"Oh I wish ! This guy is so extra, I love him !” You both giggled at the truth of her words before drinking more champagne. "But no, I’m just Roger’s date tonight, Meredith, he nicely brought me along" She chuckled and you felt your heart dropped in your chest.

Roger’s date.

You swallowed with difficulty and managed to put a tiny fake smile on your face. Clearly the past night didn’t have the same meaning for the both of you. Stupidly, you had think that maybe something could happen between the two of you but here he was, bringing a date few hours later. You felt sick and angry. Against yourself and him. And Meredith.

"I...I have to see Freddie quickly" You pretended and gently patted her shoulder as you walked away. "Something about the cookies !" You said and disappeared in the crowd, not checking how she reacted.

"Hi love" The soft voice of Roger’s voice felt like a slap in the face. It was literally the last person you wanted to see right now. It wasn’t his fault but you couldn’t face him. "You look beautiful" He purred against your ear for you to hear above the crowd.

"Thanks" You shortly replied, feeling your skin burned where Roger’s hand gently squeezed you. He was always so touchy with you, that was one of the main reason why you thought something could happen between you and him. "I need to go fetch more cookies from the kitchen" You lied and slid away from his grip, his confused gaze following you until he couldn’t see you anymore.

Two full hours into the party and you managed to avoid Roger every time he tried to catch you. It wasn’t very Christmas mood and all but for your sake, you needed that space between you.

"You’re a busy woman tonight, love" You grimaced as the drummer appeared on the little balcony behind you. "And you drinking directly from the bottle, what’s bothering you ?" He noticed the massive champagne bottle in your hands but only shrugged.

"Nothin’" You murmured and took a big sip, feeling incredibly sad suddenly. Pinning after someone who only saw you like a friend was really hurting. "Go back to the party"

"But it’s the first time in the evening that you didn’t run away from me" He whispered and wrapped his arms your waist, resting his chin on the top of your head. "Can you tell me what I did to piss you off ?" He pressed a little kiss on your hairs and you uncontrollably melted a little bit more against his warm body.

God, he was truly irresistible.

"I told you, it’s nothing" You weakly replied. The urge to just throw your feelings in his face was really tempting. But you needed way more alcohol for that.

"You’re lying" Your heartbeat speeded up when his callous fingers interlocked with yours, giving the posture an even more intimate meaning. You should pushing him away but you just couldn’t, his familiar perfume forcing you whole body to relax. "You don’t want to talk about it, I understand. Can I, at least, have a dance ? Before the clock struck midnight, hum ?" He let go one of your hand and spun you toward him, taking you by surprise.

"I don’t think your date would like that" You muttered, gaze falling on your still locked hands, confused feelings floating inside your belly.

You regretted your words because they made you sound bitter and jealous. Which was true but he truly didn’t need to know that detail.

"You met Meredith ?" His face lighted up and it felt like someone just stabbed you right in your heart. Maybe you were being over dramatic but it hurt like hell. "She is nice, right ?"

"The best" You looked away from his beaming face but he quickly grabbed your cheeks, forcing you to focus back on him. "Rog, I really think you should go back with her now. She is your date, not me"

His brows furrowed at your words and you shrugged, the feeling of sickness coming back.

"Are you...are you jealous ?" He asked, incredulous. You blushed furiously and shook negatively your head. "Yes, you are ! Oh my god, you’re totally are !"

"No, I’m not !" You crossed you arms and took few steps away, embarrassment rolling on you. "I don’t care"

"You’re such a bad liar" He giggled, a childish smiled lightening his whole face. "But let me tell you a secret about Meredith" He slid back his arms around your waist, his face burying against your neck and the soft touch of his lips on your skin brought goosebumps to your whole body.

"What ?" You couldn’t help yourself, you needed to know if it was serious with this girl.

"Meredith is my cousin" He murmured against the shell of your ear.

You looked at him with wide eyes and he started laughing like an idiot as you escaped his arms, shook by the news.

"You’re an asshole !" You slapped his chest weakly, relief and embarrassment confusing your mind. "You knew I was jealous for nothing ! And let me mope around for hours ! You should have told me, Rog !"

"Hey !" Roger grabbed your hands and pressed you flat against his chest, an amused smile on his lips. "First, I didn’t know you were jealous, I’m swear ! And secondly, love, how I was supposed to tell you when you spent the entire evening avoiding me ?" He arched a brow, clearly teasing you about your stupid attitude.

"I...but she...I thought..." You closed your mouth before sounding even more ridiculous and instead choose to bury your head further into Roger’s chest.

"You’re adorable" He chuckled and cradled your face, making you whined as you were still embarrassed by your attitude tonight. "Can we discuss about why you were jealous now ?" He softly brushed his button nose against yours, butterflies going crazy in your tummy.

"Please, no" You cried and closed your eyes to avoid Roger’s deep one. "It’s embarrassing" You murmured and shivered softly when his hot breath fell against your mouth. So close yet so far.

"I don’t think feelings are embarrassing" The drummer’s thumbs were gently stroking the skin of your face, his voice as sweet as honey, making your heart quickened ridiculously. "Expect if you’re embarrassed about the person you got feeling for" He added, his forehead now resting against yours and your eyes still closed. It was difficult but you knew as soon as you opened them you would lose control of the situation.

"I’m not embarrassed by you !" You replied in a whine, picking at Roger through your eyelashes. He was grinning widely, his thumb sliding under your chin and you didn’t like the cockiness in his smile. "What ?"

"Nothin" He shrugged then chuckled softly, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "You just agreed that you have feelings for me, love"

"What ? No I didn’t !" You sputtered, cheeks turning hot, making Roger only smiled wider. "I didn’t say anything" You weakly replied, completely mortified as the realisation rolled on you. You did confess your feelings. Indirectly but still.

"T’s okay, love" He quietly breathed into your ear, goosebumps rolling down your body. "Because I have feelings for you too" You looked at him with big heart-eyes, making him chuckled softly. "You’re too adorable"

"Adorable enough for you to kiss me ?" You whispered, taking him by surprise.

He giggled and shook his head, his eyes wandering between your sparkling one and your parted lips, covered in a light shade of red, practically begging to be kissed.

"Definitively" The feeling of his teeth gently tugging at your lower lip brought shivers down your spine, a little whine leaving your throat at the sweet torture. "I wanted to do that for a long, long time, love" He let go of your bottom lip and gave you a single and chaste kiss, sweet and soft, only making you wanting more.

Roger looked at you and smiled at your red cheeks and shaky breath, the reaction he was looking for. So he kissed you again, deeper this time. Your lips melting perfectly against each other, warm and soft and soon enough his tongue joined the kiss. You couldn’t repress the soft sigh falling from your mouth. His hands were firmly pressed against your waist, thumbs gently stroking your covered skin and you own fingers were on his neck, playing with his baby hairs.

"Merry Christmas, my love" He murmured as he slid one of his palm on your burning cheek, a stupid grin not leaving his face and perfectly matching yours.

"Merry Christmas, Rog" You replied against his lips, savouring another tender kiss, fingers completely lost in his blond locks.

#roger taylor x reader #roger taylor x you #ben hardy!roger x reader #roger taylor #roger taylor fic #christmas prompts

68 notes · View notes

theliterateape · 3 years

Text

I Can't Drive 55 | Lessons Learned in the 55th Year

By Don Hall

In my thirty-second year I felt incredibly sorry for myself. I was getting my first divorce, was living in a one-room studio in Uptown, my theater company was imploding over ego-driven bullshit. I drank myself into a state of suicidal yearning. It was a rough year.

I called my mom. Mom is that voice of reason in good and bad times.

"This has been a really shitty year. Maybe I should move back to Kansas."

"How old are you?"

"Thirty-two."

"And in thirty-two years you've lived on the planet, how many of those years were bad?"

I thought about it for a moment. "Really bad? Two. No three. Three years. Why?"

"Well, three out of thirty-two is a pretty solid track record. Seems to me that you weathered those other bad years and had good years to spare. Maybe you decide to quit wallowing in how bad this year has been and get to work on next year because based on your experience you probably have another cluster of good years in store."

Some have the Dali Lama. Others have a priest or a shelf of self-help books. I have my mom.

My fifty-fifth year (or the specter of 2020) was a rough year for so many people in the world it's almost a joke. The whole year has been covered in shit—from the campaign to unseat the least capable and most destructive president in my lifetime to three months in a pandemic shutting down the planet and economic hardship most of us have only read about in Steinbeck novels—2020 looks like the toilet bowl moments after a morning constitutional from a night of White Castle and rum.

Sure, the act of comparing one's life with those around is a narcissistic self-loathing experiment best suited for recently jilted lesbians and Instagram junkies, but while the entire world has been burning down in both literal and figurative ways, fifty-five has been a damn good year for me.

In January, I was well into my year and a half managing a casino on the corner of I-15 and Tropicana. I had done my due diligence in training and had hit the sweet spot of knowing enough about the business to be an effective leader on the floor. I knew my high rollers and had figured out the best approach to dealing with the meth-addicts and prostitutes. I could fix 90 percent of the machines and could process a jackpot inside of four minutes consistently.

Then came the pandemic and the economic shutdown of Las Vegas in March. Most were laid off and in free fall but I had stumbled into working for one of two gambling corporations in Nevada that committed to keeping the payroll rolling despite losing millions per day.

The three months of closure saw me coming in to work every day, cleaning the bar and the machines, and hanging out to make sure no one ransacked the place while it was closed. I did a lot of writing in my office during that time.

In terms of personal tragedy, my nineteen year old nephew overdosed in a parking lot in April and, virus be damned, Dana and I flew out the next day to help my sister.

We re-opened the casino in June.

Seven months of balancing life in a pandemic with idiots motivated to gamble, arguing with people about the necessity to wear masks, and submitting essays to everyone. Getting paid to write (even in small increments) was a genuine drug.

Over the summer both Dana and I were asked to write for an anthology of essays. Las Vegas writers writing about Las Vegas. It was a boost, man. Don't get me wrong, the casino gig was solid and, for the most part, enjoyable. Getting paid to write words and sentences was fucking delicious.

The book came out in October launched with a Zoomesque gathering.

The casino gig, while solid and simple, was becoming dull. Rote. Combining the fact that my best (and meager) talents were not usable during a pandemic in a struggling casino, I told my General Manager that I needed more money for such routine grind and that I’d start looking aggressively for something more in tune with my skills that also paid a bit more on my year-and-a-half mark.

Six days after I started the search, I was hired by a Denver-based firm as a Senior Copywriter.

Turns out I’m pretty good at it. Getting a salary for writing words and sentences is sweet and working from home as the pandemic continues to rage on is smart and comfortable. No longer a slave to the swings shift, my schedule is my own.

I can, for the first time in my life when asked what I do for a living, answer “I am a writer.” In a career path marked by ten year gigs followed by "gotta pay the bills" gigs, it looks like Casino Manager is the latter and "Writer" is the former. Now it’s time to write some books, yeah?

It’s been a year, my friends.

Here are the lessons that landed in my 55th annum.

Always Leave ‘Em Wanting More

Over the course of my bizarre career as a “Writer. Teacher. Storyteller. Consultant.” to refer to my donhall.vegas website, I’ve had a tendency to overstay my welcome.

Instead of leaving circumstances on good terms, by the time I was ready to go, I was all Fuck these people! What a bunch of dickseeds! and at least a few of the people were Fuck him! What a dickseed!

I stayed one year longer than I should have as a public school teacher. I stayed at least a year too long in my second marriage and, despite some incredible shows toward the end of the WNEP Theater years, I stayed too long with that company. I should’ve left WBEZ at least a year earlier and I waited until things got weird in the storytelling scene before leaving Chicago.

With the casino, I left long before things become too rote or sour. I found the new gig, jumped on it, and was told if it didn’t work out, I always had a place to land. That I was a part of the Station Casinos “family.” My staff bought me booze and when I swung by just to see them, they are happy to be seen.

Hell, the GM even gave me one of the chairs from the Craps Table for my home office!

As I get older, recognizing the signs that perhaps it’s time to go is an essential skill. At fifty-five, maybe I’m finally into that.

Family is Always More Important Than Work

Last year, working the first 24/7/365 job in my life, I was told I had to work on Christmas. It was the first Christmas in decades I hadn’t spent with my family in Kansas. It wasn’t bad—Joe flew in from Chicago, he took Dana and I to see Penn Gillette at Rio, Kelli joined Dana and Joe on the casino floor while I worked.

This year, especially after the death of my nephew, it became obvious that family had to come first. Months before I landed the writing gig, I let my GM know I was taking the week of Christmas off, COVID be damned. I was clear that if the company couldn’t pay me for the time off I understood and if I was to be let go because of it, then that was fine, too.

The casino was incredibly cool about the request that wasn’t really a request. In fact, even though I gave my two week’s notice before the Christmas vacation pay would kick in, my GM allowed me to be paid for it anyway (see that first lesson again).

It was in every possible way the correct call. My sister needed me. I needed my mom and dad. We got to reconnect with a cousin I hadn’t seen in years. Turns out she’s a professional copywriter in Austin, TX. It was a soul-filling holiday and I’ll never miss Christmas in Kansas again.

It’s Pointless to Argue with Zealots

Maybe it’s in part due to my new-found desert surroundings or my distance from the increasingly Woke Chicago Arts scene but this last year of Trump and the ridiculous nature of angrier social media has pushed me closer to Left Center than Full-On Progressive.

As a younger man I decided that religion was simply not for me. Too emotionally charged without a sense of rationality. At the distance Nevada gives me I can see how irrational both the Extreme Right—the overtly white nationalist taint with the individualism bordering on sociopathy—and the Progressive Left—the quasi-religious circular logic of white privilege, erasure of women as a category, and focus on tribalism over all—have become. Or maybe they were always this way and it took some time away from a major urban center to see it.

Whichever the case, arguing with either side has become synonymous with filing my teeth with a dremel. Besides being as productive as screaming into an Amazon Box, taping it up, and shipping it to Congress, it’s fucking annoying.

If there is a resolution I’m attempting to adopt in the latter half of my fifties, it is this: find common ground with everyone and if I encounter someone so far into conspiracy territory that I cannot, walk away and don’t look back.

Social Media Enables the Very Worst in Us (and Me)

I can’t remember if I shed myself of Faceborg, Twitter, Instagram, and the host of social media this or last year but I’ve spent most (if not all) of my fifty-fifth year absent the noise and it was an excellent decision.

Mobs of imbeciles canceling professors, trolling J.K. Rowling, threatening violence to strangers, and organizing a breach of the Capitol all using tools for communication that should be extraordinary made me hate people I had never met. This cannot be a good ‘chicken soup for the soul’ arena to spend time in.

I’ll admit that I do feel left out of the mix some yet I’m happier for it. I jumped back recently with a new LinkedIn account (which is sortof like social media but with jobs) and the only good thing about that has been being able to message with Rob Kozlowski.

I’m a Social Distancing Jedi

Five years ago, Dana threw me a birthday party and there was a room full of friends in attendance. This year, I’ll be lucky if even Dana remembers my birthday.

The culling effect of both getting rid of social media and the pandemic has been like a hoarder finally ridding himself of boxes of empty Altoid tins and those square plastic bread ties. Always a bit of a misanthrope, this year has cleared out so much noise and my new gig at home has me isolated from the wash of the unwashed.

Turns out I’m good with this. My interactions with people are more intentional rather than surface level and while life has made me more cautious when it comes to whom I genuinely trust, those whom I do choose teach me things I wouldn’t know and enrich my dwindling time on the planet.

Your Reality is Dictated by Your Optimism

Optimism isn’t merely hope. It isn’t happiness or a cheery disposition.

Optimism is an act of resilience against the brutal harshness of living the existential crisis.

It’s darkest just before the dawn implies that there will be a dawn. What if there won’t be? What if it’s just more darkness? If the implacable timpani of human greed, a self correcting planetary environment, and the algorithm that defines our modern interaction has no end, should that result in giving in to the despair?

As optimism is a breeze when things are going your way, despair is the path of least resistance when things turn to shit. Seeing through the mist at a better future takes effort and commitment like a solid marriage or a massive novel you’ve committed to writing. It’s a project to be managed not a feeling to languish within.

One cannot truly call himself an optimist who refuses to see the horror. Pretending that people are essentially kind and generous is stuffing the ostrich head in the sand. People are apes with higher brain functions and follow the rules of the jungle. Tribalism, essentialism, war for resources, the history of brutality of all humanity goes far beyond Hannah Jones 1619 Project. Taken in whole, we aren’t a very enlightened and forgiving species.

Further, optimism is an individual choice. It’s not something that can be enforced but it is something that can be inspired. The American Experiment, despite its many missteps and flaws, is grounded in a belief that humans can govern themselves justly and effectively. Given the larger picture, belief in democracy is only slightly more delusional than the guy playing slots so he can pay his rent. The odds are astronomically against success and yet the choice to persevere is made.

When you see someone who has one of those death camp tattoos on their arm you are witnessing a genuine, tried and true, bona fide optimist.

Optimism is hardest when things turn to shit but it is then when it is most necessary.

Becoming Antique is a Journey

For the first time I see that more of my life has been lived than I have left to live.

I recognize that I wish I could give the years I have left to my nephew because I have done a lot in my five and a half decades and he didn't get the chance. I wonder, absent the obsessive drive to achieve I had in my younger days, what I have to offer in the next ten years? What value does my existence provide to others and how do I manifest that value in pragmatic terms?

Like an old car or a pair of worn-out shoes, we all must acknowledge a certain sense of obsolescence. The pandemic has up-ended so many of the fictions we lived with up until this point and finding North on the compass is a challenge these days. Becoming irrelevant is like that boiling frog—slowly and without even recognizing the boil—we all find ourselves as vintage.

Perhaps that's what I've become. Not the rusted Coca Cola sign in the corner but the "like new" vinyl Def Leppard album with slightly tattered and stained liner notes.

In my next ten years (if I have that much time in store or more) I'd like to read more. Write a lot more. Listen to more live music. Be a better husband. Become that cool old man on the block with good advise and a snort of rye in case it's a little chilly. Christ, I already smoke a pipe.

There is so much more to learn that, in order to avoid feeling useless, I need to learn more.

In a Pandemic, Look For the Simple Things to Keep You Sane

A really well-made sandwich

A cold beer in 115˚ weather

A road trip with your Soul Mate

A book by a new author

A slideshow of you and your Soul Mate doing things together

A long walk

Recognizing that you have a Soul Mate

Sometimes I wonder if there’s anything else. I wonder if I’d miss anything important if I simply ceased to breathe on the couch I bought back in Chicago as it sits in Nevada.

In those moments of melodramatic existentialism, I remind myself that the experience of living is this annual letter to you. A summation of the things I’ve learned and the life I’ve lived.

If I had finished this race last year, my mettle wouldn’t have been tested by a pandemic. I wouldn't have found my sister again. I wouldn’t have seen Trump slink away to Florida. I wouldn’t be sitting in a Craps Chair in a home office of my design.

I wouldn’t have learned anything at all (you know, because dead people stop moving forward).

Here’s to another year and what adventures I will have!

#Fifty-Fifth Birthday #Birthday Lessons

0 notes

andrianabotes · 7 years

Text

There’s just something about New York. It’s the thing that urged artists like Frank Sinatra and Jay Z to write the songs that we end up quoting on our Instagram posts.

I’m not sure if it’s the fact that there’s always thousands of people around you, everyone on their own mission, or the sea of yellow taxi’s flooding the streets, or the chaos of the city being broken by the absolute tranquility of Central Park, or the promise of success in the names like ‘Broadway’ or ‘Wall Street’. I guess it’s different for everyone.

It is, however, a very overwhelming city. I tend to take a day or so to get used to the pace and intensity that New Yorkers seem to handle with great ease, but then suddenly feel like I have been living there my whole life (except for the parts where I get completely lost and where the lady at the coffee counter doesn’t understand my South African accent).

I am lucky enough to have an amazing cousin, Ilana (who happens to be one of my favourite people on this planet), who lives and works in this city, so instead of taking on the impossible task of trying to find a reasonably priced AirBnB in Manhattan, I get to live in an apartment in the Upper East Side. Ilana is also an exceptional tour guide.

It’s hard to do a day-by-day of what I did, where I ate and what I experienced while in New York, so I will tell you about the places that I feel you HAVE to visit when you find yourself in New York.

Where to eat:

1. Grand Central Oyster Bar

This is an institution in New York and the best place to have your oyster and champagne fix! Don’t sit at a table, turn right when you enter the restaurant and take a seat at the bar where right in front of two cheery guys chucking the very oysters you are about to indulge in

2. The Boathouse Lakeside Restaurant, Central Park

Even though The Boathouse is very well known among tourists and we see it in many a Hollywood movie as a chic wedding venue, it’s not touristy at all. Although you have to be well dressed to get a table at the restaurant on the water, they don’t take reservations which adds to the relaxed atmosphere of this gorgeous place. Also, they offer good take away breakfasts and coffees if you would rather enjoy Central Park from one of their park benches.

3. Joe’s Shanghai, China Town – The home of Soup Dumplings

Don’t let the exterior of China Town stop you from having the best soup dumplings in Manhattan. I would recommend the Pork Soup Dumplings, with a very close second – the Pork and Crab.

4 Mexicocina, The Bronx

If you would happen to find yourself in the Bronx (I know, it’s not usually where you would end up when visiting New York), do yourself the favour. They made our guacamole fresh and they give you a whole bucket full, not like some places who give you just about enough for one taco. Have the grilled beef hard shell tacos. Yummy.

5. Seamstress, Upper East Side

Fried Cauliflower and Seared Sirloin to die for. Have a couple of plates to share.

Where to have a drink:

1. The Plaza Hotel

When you go through the main entrance, make your way left and then up the stairs on your right. Go sit right at the bar, the bar ladies are very friendly and you get a snack plate along with your drink. This is where you have the Manhattan in the heart of Manhattan.

2. Apotheke Bar

The ultimate Speakeasy. You won’t see a sign outside of the bar, just enter the darkest door you can find and you will be transported to a 1930’s chemistry, except instead of mixing medicine, they mix cocktails. This is also close to Joe’s Shanghai, so this is a good place to have a drink before or after stuffing yourself with Chinese Food.

3. Dear Irving, Gramercy Park

Another Speakeasy from another era. You might have to share a table with a couple of impeccably dressed New Yorkers (you won’t find a single tourist here), but you won’t ever have to flag down a waitress, just push the button next to your table and your waitress will be there in 5 seconds. Have a Dirty Martini.

4. Any Dive bar

New York has bars EVERYWHERE. You can’t go wrong.

What to do:

1. Watch a ball game

Whatever it is: American Football, Basketball, Baseball – they’re all good fun. I watched a basketball game between the New York Knicks and the Boston Celtics. Even though we don’t have good basketball in South Africa, it’s such a easy and entertaining game to follow. Especially when you have a foam finger and they shoot t-shirts from big t-shirt shooting guns 4 times in the game.

2. Go to a Comedy Club

There are a couple of comedy clubs around town, just Google one in your area and you are bound to find one close by. I loved it. They pour the wine glasses to the brim and some of the talent ain’t half bad. Just don’t order food, it’s not worth it.

3. Go to a Jazz Bar in Harlem (Ginny’s Supper Club)

Harlem is one of the areas where jazz got it’s soul. This is the best place for a mix of Southern and Swedish food (weird, I know, but delicious). This is where the first waffles and fried chicken meal was ever eaten. Remember to book and ask for a table where you are guaranteed a view, we got lucky and could literally feel the talent and passion of these jazz musicians. This is a MUST do.

4. Take the ferry to Staten Island

Don’t do a trip to the Statue of Liberty. The view is better and it’s a hell of a lot cheeper just taking the ferry to Staten Island and back.

5. Take a walk up Madison Avenue

Although 5th avenue is great for shopping the brands like Prada, it’s hectic and busy. Window shopping in Madison Avenue from 59th street and up is much better.

6. Watch the sail boats in Central Park

Central Park must be one of my favourite places in the world. Combine that with cute kids playing with remote control sailboats and I’m hooked.

7. Times Square at 5:30 in the morning.

Throughout the day, you won’t find a single New Yorker in Times Square. It is most definitely the busiest place I have ever been in my entire life, lights and people everywhere! But, I walked though Times Square on my way to the subway station when I headed to Brooklyn for my half marathon. It was so peaceful. Although the lights on all the billboards were still flashing like crazy, there was not more than 10 people in sight. If you want to experience this iconic landmark in NYC, do it while everyone else is sleeping and you are about to run a half marathon in freezing temperatures.

Processed with VSCO with a7 preset

These are a couple of the gems that I had come across in the time that I had spent in New York. I absolutely love this city for its mix of food, fashion, lifestyle and personalities.

I always feel like I am leaving a day or two too early, just as I start looking the right way for traffic before crossing the street and just as my pronunciation of ‘water’ is so that the waiters understand me, I have a flight back home.

I am however excited to see my dogs.

Until next time NYC!

A B xxx

(EDIT: if you happen to fly from Terminal 7 on JFK, have the Korean BBQ Chicken Wings from Blue Point Restaurant close to Gate 1. They are delish.)

Empire State of Mind There's just something about New York. It's the thing that urged artists like Frank Sinatra and Jay Z to write the songs that we end up quoting on our Instagram posts.

0 notes