After a long night of eating, drinking, and general merrymaking we (maybe just me) were way too tired to do the Brooklyn Bridge trek we had originally scheduled for ourselves.
Instead, we slept in, packed all of the previously acquired Trader Joe’s goodies, and headed up to the fancy rooftop space to enjoy the view, lazily eat, and go over the previous night’s events.
In regular life going to Trader Joe’s is not such a big deal. You drive up, throw some things you need into your basket, buy a bunch of fancy things you probably don’t need, head to your car, and get yourself home.
In Manhattan going to Trader Joe’s is like loading up on supplies pre-nuclear catastrophe. It involves lines, more lines, more people than you ever thought could fit into a Trader Joe’s, food you want to buy but can’t reach due to the lines, a separate store just for wine, and general craziness. There was a moment during this trip when I romanticized over the thought of big city life and then I went to Trader Joe’s and those dreams died.
Long live suburbia, old friends, and post-merry making mornings.