Featured by @johnnydotjpeg
Back in Jawga (Georgia), Sunday lunch was whatever my mom whipped up from scratch before the 9am church service. With 12 mouths to feed (not including the dogs), food was plentiful and afternoon naps were non-negotiable. I soon realized those cherish-able Sunday’s were now in existent for me once I crossed the Mason Dixie Line headed into the Empire State. My new buddy Phyl invited me to one of his monthly museum brunch tours at the Met Museum. Ordinarily, I invest my Sundays blissfully binge watching something politically suspenseful on Netflix. Needless to say, I needed to get out of the house.. So, my camera & I hopped in an Uber and headed to 86th street, where I will notably say I was not the last person to arrive. (I got lost, twice).
Incidentally, my friends Mike and Tierra were there, too – my two favorite distractions. You’ve seen one museum you’ve seen them all. Walk. Point. Read. Put index finger on chin, pretend to analyze. Repeat. And in our case, pose (for the camera). The tour was fantastic, thanks to Jenna and her extensive art history knowledge.
After an hour or two of walking, we were treated with a real New York view on the roof. Up there I caught Tierra gazing into the future. The every day artist’s future. Our future.
3 black SUV’s were arranged to drop our group of 20 in front of Sojourn, a brunch spot on 79th street. Phyl reserved a section in the back corner for us where candles were already lit and the mimosas were promptly being poured. I had the chicken and waffles, Because I’m low-key ratchet and needed to fill a hometown void my stomach was latching for.
Ratchet: adj; Term coined by Atlanta natives to describe something that represents true urban stereotypes. (ie) Chicken & Waffles and just about anything Tyler Perry directs.
Speaking of ratchet, the owner even let us play our own music. (Seeing that 65% of the group was from Atlanta, I don’t think he knew what he got himself into).
Energy floated in between everyone as we drank fast, sang loudly and laughed inevitably. We knew we had the restaurant’s attention when our waiter began to sing the 90’s childhood theme songs with us, too.
Hello, New York. I like you.