What makes a good day for someone? What makes a ‘GREAT’ day?

Hugs from The Rock? A visit to a tank museum? Seeing a live Jazz band? Eating a giant steak cooked to perfection? Shopping in a fancy store? A chat with a real-life Broadway star? Finding a bag of money in a suspicious case in an alley?

Well, four of those things came true this day, and (except for one), all were unplanned.

It began after we failed to get tickets to Outsiders, another Broadway musical. There were no tickets left. No tickets for the standing room only. No tickets for hanging from the beams. No tickets for the boiler room 200’ below the stage.

So, we went looking for food and were invited to a pub with a live jazz band.

For the first time on the trip, The-Oldest was in heaven.

He got to have a beer and watch a jazz band be all jazzy and cool and weird (which I guess is the point of a jazz band). While eating a huge burger and gulping down beer, he watched the drummer make noise with all sorts of strange things, the best being a rubber chicken. He slipped into the groove of the music, easily, and bobbed his head to the rhythms with his eyes closed.

He loved it. It turned a day into THE BEST day for him.

When we had first arrived at our apartment and looked at things to do nearby, I found a jazz club, but he didn’t want to go. Too scary. So, this was a perfect introduction to NYC jazz. He said, when the band took a break, that he feels NYC is a much better place for music than Vancouver.

I wonder if he’ll come back here?

After the band finished, we left for home but got sidetracked by a visit to Saks 5^th Avenue. It was full of stores where I felt like I’d be asked to leave if I didn’t have a diamond-encrusted Rolex and a twenty-year-old wife with a massive boob job.

There were $30,000 purses and $1200 runners. There were pieces of art which didn’t even have a sticker price and jackets starting at $4000. There were suits that cost more than my car and jewelry that cost more than my house.

I think The-Youngest touched them all. And then some.

For him, this was heaven. Designer shoes, designer shirts, designer sunglasses, designer fragrances, designer mannequins…

If only he had money.

But then it was time to go home, have a shower, and take a snooze before heading out to the steak house. We took the bus, again, and I have to say, that became our favourite way of traveling. No possibility of passing out from the heat on the subway platform. No masses of humanity sweating next to me. No cars that smelled like a hobo’s bathroom.

Bus, baby, buses all the way.

At 6, we headed out to Gallagher’s, dressed up and looking fine. We figured if we were going to make it a special night, might as well make it a special night. We had no problem finding the place, as The-Youngest knew exactly where to go. He had it planned for months.

And man, what a place it was. Dark wooden walls, a room full of aging beef just inside the door, perfectly dim lighting (except by the bar), and lots of tables. We were taken to a booth, given menus, and told our waiter would be with us.

Now this is the type of place where you don’t have just one waiter, you have several. All dressed to the 9s. All serious servers who know their jobs.

It’s the type of place where you order a steak and then order something to go along with it. It’s the type of place filled with people who look like they shopped at Saks. It’s the type of place where you expect to see Frank Sinatra (if he, you know, wasn’t dead) or or a godfather surrounded by beefy bodyguards who are winking at The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World.

I won’t lie, despite the prices, I was a little excited. This would be an epic meal. I just knew it. The-Youngest, I swear to God, couldn’t stop grinning, like he’d won the lottery, got his first kiss from a girl, and found a Saks card on the seat worth $20,000.

Ok, it was expensive. Really expensive, but I said, as much to myself as everyone else, it’s a once-in-a-lifetime experience. Let’s enjoy it.

And by golly, gosh we sure did. My steak was perfect, I mean how could it not be? I asked The-Youngest. He knew ahead of time what he’d order. The best stake possible. A ribeye. Medium rare.

It was so good, I almost cried. The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World loved her steak as well, but after tasting mine, she thought I’d made the better choice. The-Oldest, though, looked at the prices and refused to order a steak. He ordered finely chopped steak or as I like to call it, super fancy hamburger. (Link to menu here).

I cannot tell you how much The-Youngest loved that dinner. I think it’ll stick with him until he’s a wealthy man and can afford something like that himself. I hope when that time arrives, he invites me.  True, I may not have any more teeth, but I’ll gladly gum the steak into submission.

For him, seeing Saks and not getting kicked out for touching everything would have made it a good day. For him, watching the jazz drummer would have made it a very good day (he loves to drum himself) but having that perfectly cooked steak dinner made it a GREAT day. The best day.

And he still had one day set aside for another GREAT day!