Last Friday I went to New York City for two hours; I had some business to attend to. I got on the train at 9:15 and arrived in NYC at 12:45. Took the subway to the bank and completed my transaction in approximately four minutes. I ate lunch at the kind of coffee shop you can only find in New York, and got back on the train an hour and a half later to be home by 6:30. While on the train I pretended I was a businesswoman. Here's what I wrote while eating lunch:
I'm eating a cheeseburger, well done, with a side of cole slaw and a pickle. And to drink? A chocolate milkshake. Not a frappe, a milkshake. This coffee shop is aptly named. It's called Utopia. This cheeseburger is the best I've tasted in years. So good, in fact, I was moved to write the preceding sentence on a piece of paper nad requested to have it delivered to the cook.
The waiter read the note and said to me, "What about the serivce?" I told him it was great, but I came here for the taste, not the service. He laughed and shouted to the cook in accented English, "This is forrr youuuu, the lady with the cheeseburger give it to youuuu!" Lord knows how many calories are in this meal, but right at this moment, I don't care. It is pure bliss in the form of a beef patty and chocolate.
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