Today the Times does a bold thing: It characterizes the Perfect Night in New York City. What does that entail? They go into detail:
Location: The Great Lawn, Central Park.
Activity: Catching a free performance.
Temperature: 77 degrees.
Soundtrack: Mozart’s “Jupiter” Symphony.
Beverages: Wine from Trader Joe’s, a Bubba Keg of Bass, and a bottle of Recession Red.
Snacks: Almonds, Pepperidge Farm Goldfish.
Company: Friends, spouses, strangers.
Reading Material: Fine Woodworking magazine.
Clothing: Chinos, Lilly Pulitzer, flowered headscarves.
Okay, here’s Intel Chris’s:
Location: My apartment, if my apartment were nicer.
Activity: Hosting a dinner party.
Temperature: An artificial 69 degrees, controlled by central air (see above, re: location).
Soundtrack: A carefully calibrated gay playlist that begins with Sufjan Stevens and ends with “C’est La Vie” by B*witched, such that people want to bop around when they get drunk.
Beverages: Martinis, then fancy wine that someone else brought.
Snacks: Cheese, bread, and various sausages. Preferably all together.
Company: The BF, and attractive friends with nice arms.
Reading Material: Blissfully only recipes, for one night. Except maybe at the end of the night after we’ve all gone to a piano bar to embarrass ourselves, a really good novel, read in bed with the BF, who will probably be reading something by Stephen King that will give him terrible nightmares.
Clothing: Oh, let’s face it, same as the Times: Chinos, Lilly Pulitzer, flowered headscarves.
What’s yours? Tell us in the comments!
