I’m a New Yorker. I’m used to walking. I like to walk. Thank goodness everyone else does too. MB and I hold hands as we all walk for a while and we’re pointed out famous statues, streets where movies have been filmed and such. We turn the corner and everyone gets quiet. MB and I look around wondering what’s going on. There across the street is a tank. Yeah, a tank. Like in wars. A freaking tank! It’s not exactly painted like tanks I’ve seen in movies or on the news, but it’s definitely a tank! MB and I just stand there frozen before Bodyguard starts telling us about it. And why not? Only someone like him would know the detailed history of a Soviet tank. So, of course, what do we do? We all climb all over it taking pictures in strange poses. Probably not really strange, but for being photographed with a tank, I suppose they are. I learn later, this is normal behavior when seeing the tank for the first time.
We walk some more and get some food at what I think is a place we’re very under dressed for but that doesn’t seem to occur to anyone else. After we order, I whisper to MB I’m not quite done with my morning activities so I head to the loo (bathroom) and he soon follows. It’s a tiny place so some calisthenics are in order. Having visited a number of airplane bathrooms we’ve got our routine down pretty well. There’s a reason I love to wear skirts and dresses. We exit just as the food arrives which is perfect because good sex always makes me hungry. I’m famished!