This was the winner. Out of everything. Out of our whole New York City Pass. Out of the whole of New York. Jumping on a sail boat late at night, off to see the city.
We're running late, after dinner, after museums, after a morning in bed. It makes you sloppy. It's hard to catch a cab in NYC on a Thursday night. It's like Johannesburg, back home - Thursday is party night, time to hit the town, paint it red...white...and blue. But you make it, running through the financial district, cutting through buildings, and along the harbour. Make it. Tourists mingle, the line grows. No one is quite as out-of-breath as you are. The whole city is alight. Doubly-so, because it is all reflected in the water. Nine-thirty in the city of dreams. On the boat. It's old. A sailing boat. The 1929 Shearwater, an 82-foot double-masted Great Gatsby era sailing yacht. Waves lap, the open water beckons. I've always liked boats. I tell Husband which one I'll buy for us one day. It's hard to choose.
Manhattan is spread out on one side, Jersey on the other. The horizon is dominated by sparkling lights and skyscrapers, and skyscrapers covered in sparkling lights. The sails catch the wind, the boat moves fast. Suddenly you're down the bottom of the Manhattan island, and heading out - out towards Ms. Liberty.