This weekend my brother came for a visit from Chicago, bringing my 5-year-old niece with him. (And he wouldn’t let me take her for a manicure! “She’ll get hooked…” I have no idea what he’s talking about. I only go like every five or six days tops to get my nails done. Maybe I can convince Six to go? He likes a bit of flashiness sometimes. Anyway.)
I love to be a tourist in NYC, so we headed to Central Park to the Bethesda Fountain. And we saw a ballerina, complete with tulle tutu, doing some sort of photo shoot. Very Sex and the City circa 2001. I was much more excited than my niece, who was fascinated by the unnaturally electric green water in the boat pond. Oh, this guy showed up, too:
While he’s wearing low-rise jeans and not dance tights, I have to assume he’s a dancer, too. Guys, if you doubt that male ballet dancers are athletes, I beseech you: LOOK AT HIS ABS. After gawking for a few minutes, we wandered on, following the sweet sounds of “Amazing Grace.”
After an impromptu ballet performace, a beautiful concert, and an extra-salty pretzel, I can say it was a damn good Saturday in our city.