A wise person once said that you’re as young as you feel. I wholeheartedly agree with him. Or her. I’m guessing it was Him. Her was probably getting a restalyn treatment at the spa while Him was letting his inner child run free with the wind blowing through his bald spots. Whether you’re a Her or a Him, I have a surefire way to feel younger . . . at least for five minutes. And it’s only two bucks. Here it is, folks . . . the carousel at Central Park.
Kraig, Crunchy Erin, and I spent a leisurely afternoon last week pretending to be tourists in the Central Park area. Now, this involved a few things I’d never done in the city, but the highlight of our tourist adventures was definitely the carousel. The carousel is located somewhere in Central Park. Here’s the thing about the park: nobody knows really where anything is because we’re all used to living on a grid of streets that are very politely organized numerically. So, suffice it to say that if you enter at the southwest corner of the park by the fountain, take a right at the pedicab hangout and follow the main jogging lane, you’ll see the carousel on the left after you circle the bottom half of Sheep’s Meadow. Anyway, Kraig (aka Uncle Kraig) offered to buy his two thirty-something make believe nieces a carousel ride and we gigglingly acquiesced.
We waited for a short while behind a squirming mass of brown pigtails and then entered the covered brick building to choose our silently neighing equine seats. The carousel itself was obviously very old, but had been expertly renovated to retain its antique charm. I chose a proud looking white steed and hopped on (side saddle) while Erin and Kraig saddled up next to me. A few minutes later, a wheezing but cheerful Italian tune respired through the speakers at the center of the ring of animals and our ride began. Perhaps it had been a long while since I’d been on a carousel, but that sucker was fast! Seriously, I looked behind me at a little Asian girl of no more than six and wondered how she was holding on. Wheeeee! As the carousel whirled around, I looked over at my bobbing buddies and saw them having just as fabulous a time as myself. Why don’t more people do this? Yes, I know we probably looked a little stupid amongst the jaded Manhattan children (acting more childlike than them, nonetheless), but I, for one, didn’t care. It was a blast! And a long blast, for that matter. Our ride was a good five minutes long, if not longer. Well worth our two dollars (or Uncle Kraig’s). The ride slowed to a halt, we snapped a few pics, and headed toward the exit. Exhilaration! I felt younger than any microdermabrasion-ed Upper East Sider could ever feel. So, there. I was officially as young as I felt. Ten. We passed a hot dog cart and I caught my reflection in the side. Hmm. Okay, maybe twenty. We began to stroll up the hill toward the west side of the park and I shifted my gait to accommodate my arthritic knee. Yeah . . . back to reality. Maybe my next blog should be a spa day . . .