Scrambled Eggs: Day Two

This is on the way to meet Barbara for our monthly lunch. This is Fifth Avenue a few blocks from the Metropolitan Museum of Art and there are always a bunch of street vendors selling "art" and it always reminds me of Paris.

Really bad photo, I know, but the cab was moving. We were seeing cops everywhere, swarming in and around Central Park and the driver and I didn't know what was up. Turns out there's a Black Eyed Peas concert tonight in the Park and the cops were getting into position. It's nice when cops are there for a happy reason.

Waiting for Barbara to arrive, I couldn't help but look at these fellows sitting at the tables outside who didn't say a word to each other. I don't know what the scaffolding is for, but here's a polite request: If you and I ever share a meal, you can look at your email/texts three times, once when you first sit down, once during the meal, and once when we're leaving. And that's being generous. Other than that, keep all electronic devices away from the table. Can we no longer enjoy a beautiful fall day sitting outside? Can we no longer enjoy each other's company? Do I sound like an old lady?

This is Jackson Hole, a mini-chain of hamburger places. Barbara and I like this place, but we don't like the hamburgers as they are like three-inches high, just huge, and it's too much. So we come to a hamburger place to order....

SCRAMBLED EGGS!!! We have our order refined over months of ordering the same thing: scrambled eggs ("soft" for me), crispy bacon, well-done fries (B's suggestion so we don't get those half-done white sticks), toasted rye bread for B and a toasted bagel for me. Strawberry jam on the side for both of us. Yum. The food of goddesses.

This is a preposterous sign for a Manhattan side street where you go about 15 mph anyway. Plus the sign is enormous. Made me chuckle.