I went to the Guggenheim today (which I priorly thought of as the Queen of New York Museums) with someone who believes modern art is trash. We left by the elevator.
Still, I liked the domed ceiling of the Guggenheim, which reminded me of a planetarium. My friend described a planetarium he was in, and we decided to go.
We cut across Central Park (laterally, this time) and made it to the Museum of Natural History with more than an hour before closing. We headed straight for the planetarium. It wasn’t really one, but it felt like it. In that blue tinted room, I found it incredible that until that moment, this place had existed only as my friend’s description. It still is how I feel about New York.