I just got out of the shower... or at least it kinda feels that way. We're standing in a long line inside the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and outside, it's pouring rain. The six-block, umbrella-less walk from the subway station to the Met has got me drenched from head to toe. I might as well have stepped right into a running shower. All I need is some shampoo and conditioner, and I can lather up my hair like the girl in those Herbal Essences commercials. I guess I really could've avoided this dousing by purchasing an umbrella from the guy on the corner, but my cheap-Chinese upbringing prevents me from paying $10 for a crappy umbrella I could buy for $2.50 at the 98-cent store on Mott Street. At least I've got my jeans and Converses on. Wait, that's not a good thing is it? Ugh, wet jeans and soaked shoes. Awesome.
Anyhoo, why are we here on such a miserable rainy day? All in the name of education and enlightenment, of course. For her Spring Break homework assignment, the niece is supposed to visit and write a report on a museum... so what better place to peruse works of art than at the Metropolitan Museum of Art? Besides, it's a great way to get out of the rain. Too bad everyone else and their mammas in NYC has got the same brilliant idea. So here we are standing in line... a growing puddle forming below me; my wet shoes squeaking along the dry linoleum floor; a trail of water following me as we approach the ticket counter...Me: 2 adults and one student, please.
Ticket Agent: That'll be $50.
Me: Can I pay $25?
Ticket Agent: Sure.
Me: Cooool
I've always heard a myth that the posted admission price was merely a suggested donation, and that if you really wanted to, you could pay whatever you want to get in. Consider this myth: confirmed! I have no shame... you can pay what you want to get in! Or maybe the ticket agent just felt sorry for the drenched skinny Asian dude. Whatever the reason, we're so in! 
The wifey and I haven't been back here in almost a decade. Walking through all the different halls and seeing some quite magnificent exhibits brings back fond memories and makes me almost forget about the crazy crowd. Almost. There's so much to see here, maybe too much... everything from Egyptian artifacts to medieval masterpieces to an actual Dyson vacuum cleaner are all on display. The niece is wow'ed by the Temple of Dendur (built 15 B.C.) that's beautifully on display in the Sackler Wing; t
he wifey is mesmerized by Pygmalion and Galatea, a 19th century oil painting by Jean-Léon Gérôme; and I'm getting yelled at by the museum police for taking pictures of some special exhibit that I don't even know the name of. C'mon, give a wet Chinese guy a break. All I know is, the niece better be getting an A+ on this report. Today's Snackies:
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Mandoo Bar. Midtown West, Koreatown. I know, from it's name, the place sounds more like a gay strip club than a Korean dumpling house. On a lunch break from the Met, we take a 100-block detour to chow down on some yummy kim chee mandoo, pork mandoo, and bibimbop. It's almost worth the trip just to checkout the old Korean cougars making the dumplings at the window. 
Ippudo. East Village. Ok, I'd have to say the ramen is pretty good here. Although, having recently returned from Japan, I'm a bit spoiled. The place is ultra-hip, club-like, loud, and a bit Asian-fusiony. And by Asian-fusiony, I mean paying $15 for modestly sized servings in a fancy bowl. We have the Aka Maru Modern and the Kamo Nanban Shoyu. Don't forget to add the Kakuni [fatty pork] and the Hirata Buns. Yum. Worth the 90 minute wait on a Tuesday night? If you can't make it to Tokyo tonight, then I guess. I'm spoiled.
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