My romantic gateway

There are two things about New York City that I love the most
A. Living here
B. Getting the heck away from here

Given the fact that option A is a daily reality, I could not contain my excitement to take a romantic weekend trip somewhere (option B) - anywhere, where there is no noise, no rush, only a few people around, where you see the stars at night and can spot Orion's belt even if you never paid attention during the astrology lesson at school and where you still hear the rooster in the morning going cooocoooroookkoooooo as the raising sun reaches the horizon.

Wishing is great, but what happens if you get more than you bargained for?

"Romantic" had to be crossed out from the wish list no later than about 100 miles north from New York, when my phone rang and Dr. Egg, who firstly congratulated me on the record amount of eggs produced, reminded me of a prohibition of not getting too cosy with my other half for the following two weeks (just to describe the action in the least descriptive manner).
I am lucky I didn't end up getting the exclusive romance package offered by the B&B: Super sized room with extra spring mattress, jacuzzi, bubble bath, a bottle of champagne, a camcorder and a value pack of Trojans.

On the other hand, I did book the ROSE room as a direct revenge to Geoffrey's flower phobia. He hates flowers (or anything that reminds him of flowers, like the three dots next to each other, as mentioned in my previous post), unless they are live in a vase. He won't tolerate them on any print that is in our apartment or clothing and that is the end of it. As any other self-respectable woman, I normally get my way either way, but not the flower print - that I've never been successful at - YET!

Joy! Our room over compensated for my goal! We slept on a bed of roses, peed and showered among roses and eventually smelled of nothing else but roses!

New York City spoils you like no other city in terms of choices - restaurants, entertainment, shopping, education - you name it - we've got it!
New York State is whole different story!

I knew we were driving off the map, when I spotted an Antique store across the street
"We Buy Guns"
Antique guns?
Used guns?
Are guns like cars?
The more you use them the more they depreciate in value?
Kill one dear you loose $50 off the value, kill a person and now it's on e-bay?

* * *

It's hard to describe the beauty of the Finger Lakes when all you perceive while driving are MacDonalds, Burger Kings, Wall Marts and an Applebees here and there.

As an attempt to do the only thing available in this part of the world, we decided to visit Wall- Mart. I have only heard of this humongous chain store in regards to immigration disputes and about the Wall Mart-owning family members, who rank among the top 10 riches people in the US following Billie Gates, of course.

From the look of the store it was obvious that this wealth is not a common denominator for the shoppers spending their pennies here. Kenny Chesney and his gang of country singers CD's was heavily advertised at the entrance. The shopper inside me, did not even get a tickle of my fancy as I walked through isles of polyester tops, shapeless pants, white turtle necks with Christmas bows all over, flannel pj's, hunting gear, fishing rods and Barbie imitation dollhouses, eventually arriving at the section of handicrafts.

The first exciting isle!
I found bra paddings!
You would never have thought!
Until now, my bra was like a magicians hat. I played a few Copperfield tricks to entertain my friends while casting the spell "Abraka Daaabraaa" and pulling out the occasional sock, handkerchief, scarf and other various items from behind my blouse.
(No white rabbits! Even I, am unable to pull this trick without being caught or with my "luck" to get bitten!)

* * * * *

Back at our B&B, we found out that the house used to be a haunted house, which was reconstructed by its new owners - Gary and Rose. The inn keepers proudly presented us with a newspaper article that compares the Sutherland House B&B to the set of the movie Psycho! This fact did comfort me at all top ut it mildly ...

"I am glad I have not seen the Blair Which!
I won't look at the mirror for a fear of seeing someone else gawking at me from behind and Honey! we better leave all the lights on and please check under the bed before I fall asleep and wake up to a ghost tickling my feet!"

* * * *

Gary, a man in his fifties, with white sneakers and carrot cut jeans seemed friendly and helpful -explaining every bit of the history of the area, which is only long enough that even I can remember. He spoke with a slight drawl and I was just about to ask where his accent was from when I recalled a story that happend to me a few months ago:

A friend of mine and myself were sitting behind a bar sipping our cosmopolitans when a guy hunting for a new object for a night approached us. He leaned over, introduced himself and asked the most unusual question, the one, that only a true suit and tie New Yorker may ask in the first second of meeting another person: "So, what do you guys do?"

The noise level was raising with the alcohol level of the present guests of the place and so desperate to enliven our conversation that was not leading towards his apartment let alone his bed I asked: "I detect an accent, where is it from?"

Coldly, nonchalantly he immediately asnwered:
"Daaarling! It's you who has an accent! NOT ME!"

Oh Of couuurse! You're British! ... And that was the end of this conversation ...

Just for the record I admit, I do have an accent whatever the mixture of Czech-Slovak-Hungarian may sound like - "KnedloveprozeloWITHbryndzovehaluskyANDgulas"

... still not finished :( ...