Me N The City: Part 4 – Nobu 57 Loves Me, Sorta

We hopped in our cab and headed to dinner. We were both famished but happy now that our night was starting to take a turn for the better. We had gotten to see our movie, it was fantastic, and we got to sit together after all. Things were looking up.

When we got to Nobu 57 I wondered what we’d find. Would there be fabulous people milling about on the sidewalk smoking their “skinny” sticks and holding court on their Blackberries? Would the bar inside be like a photo shoot for OK magazine? Maybe DeNiro himself would there overseeing his domain? Or maybe – just maybe – since the SATC ladies had just attended the movie premier the night before a few blocks away, maybe they would be noshing on sushi at the table next to ours. Deep inside though I was wondering how things would bode for us. I mean, I didn’t have any “people” to call and make my reservation – I did that myself (the very first DAY they allowed for the date we wanted). A 515 area code probably doesn't hold a lot of charm in Manhattan. And I don’t have an even remotely famous sounding last name. Would we be treated as second rate? Or would our weeks of foresight pay off?

Once we got inside we were graciously greeted by two hostesses, and after giving my name, we were escorted up a grand wooden staircase to the main dining area and seated in a booth next to a window overlooking Manhattan. Life was good. Our waiter was prompt and engaged. He explained the menu to us without making us feel like bumpkins. The ideal, he said, was to order something off each section of the menu: an appetizer, something cold, something hot and then your main sushi choice. Neat idea but one glance at the menu told us that would not be feasible on our budget. Just a quick calculation in my head showed me that following the “ideal” would run us about $200 a piece.

Instead we opted to share an appetizer of edamame, split one hot dish (two tempura fried sea scallops) and then each choose two sushi rolls. That plus our two cocktails each still put the total dinner (including tip) at $200. But that we could swing. Granted, in Des Moines that would have cost about $50 bucks but hey… we knew what we were getting into (for the most part) when we made the reservation.

I’m sorry to say there were no celeb sightings but after my first Champagne martini on an empty stomach we were too busy laughing and chatting to look around or much care who was there. We were there to see each other, not to see and be seen.

Once dinner was over around 11:00 we realized that with everything the day had brought our way we just did not have the umph to try and go clubbing. We had however heard that sometimes the bar in the W hotel could be just as fab as the trendiest clubs, so we decided to cab it back to the hotel and grab a drink at the bar. A great idea in theory, however when we got there and plopped down in two overstuffed, low slung chairs in the bar area we knew there was no energy left in either of us to walk all the way up to the bar, jockey for position and try and shout out our drink order. Our only hope was for the cocktail waitress to make her way over to us. After twenty minutes of waiting, we gave up and just headed back to the room. We needed our rest. We had a big day of shopping ahead of us.

… to be continued.