Back to the Bridge
I have put off writing this post for quite a while now. The events of this end of the line dining experience were the perfect intersection of our young selves and our still young, albeit slightly older, selves – and I figured I would not forget. So here goes from my foggy memory with digital assistance.
Bonnie and I met on the platform of the 6 train in Union Square at 7:30 for a short trip downtown to Brooklyn Bridge. I know this because of the following text still in my phone’s crystal clear memory: “Meet on the platform yeah? Front-ish car? See you at 7:30.” It is likely a safe bet that I was 5 minutes late, and I slightly recall running so that we could board the approaching train.
Hopstop tells me the ride should have been between 7 and 9 minutes long – and that sounds about right. We were going for simple.
We exited the train at City Hall Park, night having already fallen. Downtown Manhattan is abuzz in the daytime, but is not what you would call a happening place at night. Many of the eating establishments, mostly chains, close after the work crowd clears.
We decided to wander along the periphery of the park, and what should we come across?
A fountain. The very same fountain where we stood 13 years ago. You may recall Bonnie’s eloquent description in the 1 train to South Ferry post “One day, we went to City Hall Park (most likely after a Brooklyn Bridge walk), and we found a fountain. In that fountain we made wishes, and Tania reminded me how she felt with the penny in her fingertips (must have been in 2000 or maybe early 2001). She said she can only remember a couple times in her life when she felt so happy and satisfied that she honestly didn’t know what to wish for. And there was a kind of charmed feeling in the air.”
So there we were again. Happy and satisfied, but not without wishes and certainly not on our way to the Tavern on the Green. Bonnie and I made cast our pennies into the water (we will let you know what they are once they come true, and I have a feeling they will), took some pictures and moved on. The fountain is still magical, but there seemed to be some strange characters lurking on the benches, and we were hungry.
We decided to take a turn onto one of the smaller cobblestone streets. Ann Street is one of the oldest streets in New York, but beyond the cobblestone, the construction and modern establishments mask its beautiful age. It is hard to imagine that this was once the site of PT Barnum’s museum in the 1800’s, home to the celebrated midget “General Tom Thumb” and the “Fiji Mermaid”.
I would venture to say that downtown Manhattan has received a rather ugly modern face lift. I take a look and think she would have been much prettier if she just aged naturally. You can still see the beauty in a few of the remaining building facades and though a lit window here and there, but you have to pay attention.
Bonnie and I are naturally window peekers. We spied a mysterious, opulent parlor in an otherwise abandoned and gutted building. It was like the entire thing was being demolished save for that one room….a room that we knocked on and could not gain access to. We also spied the back window of 121 Fulton Street, and it looked inviting enough to us. The menu did not really impress, but it was nice enough, and I was glad to see that if we dined long enough, I would be able to see the Giants game on one of the TV screens (the one and only time I am ever happy to see a TV in a dining establishment). As most of you know, the Giants have already won the World Series (YAY)….that is how long I have dragged my feet on this post!
As usual, we decided to share. Unfortunately, the only picture I took of the menu was the ‘Spicy & Jammy’ wine list. Judging from the pictures, our slightly forgettable but better than expected dinner consisted of an artichoke dip with tortilla chips, tuna tartar and a salad with grilled shrimp. It was solid bar food, and we enjoyed it with a glass of wine each.
After dinner, we debated on whether or not to take a walk on the Brooklyn Bridge. As mentioned in a previous post or two, Brooklyn Bridge was the place that Bonnie and I went together our first year in college when we needed to clear our heads. Our serene place. The rules were as follows – no turning around until you reach the mid-way point of the Bridge, then quickly turn around and enjoy the view. Take in the whole experience in one glance. The view, centered on the World Trade Center, took your breath away. We came here many times together and would bring our nearest and dearest when they came to visit.
I don’t believe Bonnie and I have been to the bridge together since before September 11th, and certainly not since the new WTC has been built. We decided to go for it. We talked about how our 18-year-old selves would feel about our 34-year-old selves and the lives we have led up until this point. We agreed that our 18 year old selves would have thought we would have had children and had settled down by now – but would have been proud of the lives we have led and the people we have become.
We turned around a quarter of the way across the bridge and were underwhelmed. Maybe it’s because the view is different, or because we did not follow our own rules. We agreed that next time we meet on the bridge that we won’t half ass it. I still have faith in the view ahead.