I woke
up at 8am. The same person who wanted to buy my microwave wanted a reschedule. We
were due to meet at 9am. I held off my morning grouchiness, for the sake of
dealing with people in the morning. But she chose to cancel our appointment
last minute because her car malfunctioned. There was hardly time to lose my
temper as I prepped myself and hurried out the door. SoraK was already on her
way to the Inner Harbor.
The bus
came late this morning, making the wait at Barnes & Nobles excruciatingly painful.
I wasn’t physically harmed in anyway, but the clock was ticking away with every
passing second and my body was nowhere near downtown. I really hate being late
for anything. But I stopped agonizing after finding out from a fellow passenger
that he had been there an hour ago, waiting for the same bus. If he had the
patience to deal with the situation, I bet I can do better. Stupid ego.
At
10.30am, Sora texted to tell me she reached the Gallery, our meeting point of
the day. That place only came into my range of eyesight at 11am. Although I was
late, I could tell she had her fill doing window shopping. “I was inside Banana
Republic,” she said. Funny, I don’t remember seeing that store ever despite my
countless rendezvous to the tiny mall. Onward to Bonaparte Bakery.
It had
to rain. It wasn’t any light shower either, way passed the amount of water your
pipe at home can carry. I should say waterfall. The umbrella was no use, for we
were soaked. The jeans felt like sandbags, and the winds dropped the
temperature to chilling point. After a good thirty minutes’ walk, we entered
the café and was dying for some warm
pastries.
 |
| Old style interior decoration and pastries equals Win! |
My
first experience with Bonaparte Bakery was met with mixed feelings. On the good
scale, the quaint café, located at the historical Fells
Point, forms a blanket-warm ambiance for hungry travelers. And those people at
Yelp were right; the chocolate croissant is to die for. Unfortunately, service was
sub par. The man who took our order made no smile, didn’t bother to double check
on our orders and screwed it up to boot. Wow, did I mention no apologies
despite the hiccups. I am all for sympathizing with having to deal with people
in the morning, but this isn’t how you serve your patrons mind you.
 |
| Lack of chocolate filling. But the fluffiness of the croissants made up for it. |
 |
| Chicken salad, as arid as the Sahara desert. |
Determined
not to give up on a good day out, we headed to Pitango for some mango sorbet.
And it doesn’t fail to deliver. The sweet tang of the tropical fruit gelato
brought much happiness, as though the mango itself wants to carve its existence
on your taste palate. Uh, right. The rain was still pouring and like mouse
running for shelter, it led us to the Landmark Theatres. I cannot control rain,
but I can evade it right? Two hours of The Great Gatsby ought to do the trick.
It wasn’t
enough. While we had fun with the movie, it was time to head outside again. Mom
would have been mad, since we stopped by Starbucks to kill some time before
dinner. Sora wanted dinner to be at an American diner near Charles Village.
This time, we were accompanied by HJ and Panda. The Lost City Diner is a place
out of this world, even the menu takes time to go through. I had the Little
Starboy Deluxe while Sora ordered The Original. The names don’t tally the food,
but the place is definitely worth a second visit.
 |
| A fan boy/girl's dream come true! |
 |
| The burgers here are designed to send you out to space! |
The day
ended with all four of us inside my apartment. So we each had a bottle of beer
each, and part ways soon after. Sora had a deep meaningful conversation with
me. I was glad to help her untangle the roots knotted inside her, no more ill
feelings between her and friends.
Calculated
risk,
Vonnie S.
Vonnie S.
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