When I come home I'm setting up a bagel and pasty shop. Australia has been deprived of them too long. I'm not gonna lie. An embarrassing percentage of my excitement each morning was about the prospect of the meals I was going to eat that day.
Day at the museum
And while I'm on the subject of wait staff, they seem to have such a rigid hierarchy over here! At first we kept on asking for menus and cheques and stuff from busboys instead of waiters and they would just give you this petrified look as soon as you addressed them. It kind of feels like some dystopian corpocratic future à la Cloud Atlas where everyone is designated a socioeconomic stratum based on their job and any violation of the code is unthinkable. In Australia you just grab any recognisable passing employee of the place you're eating and ask for whatever you want, whether mopper or manager, at least in cafes.
Sex and the city and the new york public library
Top of the rock
(To be continued.)