It was her first time in the big city. She was visiting her older brother whom she hadn't seen since last Christmas. She'd grown up a lot since then and was eager to show off her new found independence. Sure, New York could be pretty intimidating to an outsider but she was prepared to skip all the lame touristy stuff and impress him with her desire to simply "hang out".
So far it hadn't gone that well. He'd been pretty much dictating the course, dragging her though the city looking for knock-off Louis Vuitton bags. She was desperate to add some sort of contribution to the day's itinerary. Perhaps she could suggest they check out Chelsea or the Meat Packing District? She didn't know what either term meant but knew they sounded good.
She was looking for just the right moment to say something when he caught her off guard with a question.
"You want to grab something to eat?"
"Sure."
"Where do you want to go?"
Now was her chance to impress her big brother. The old version of her, the one he saw last Christmas, would have replied with an unassuming "it doesn't matter to me" or "wherever you want to go is fine" or an even worse"Golly. I don't know anything about this city. You better pick a place."
Her eyes darted around the intersection, desperately looking for anything that might be perceived as hip and trendy. That place looked good. Wait, that's a wine store. How about that place? Nope, that might be just a coffee shop that doesn't serve food. Is that a Wendy's down the street? Absolutely not. Out of the question.
He pressed her for an answer.
"So? Where you want to go?"
Just then her eyes fell upon a restaurant on the corner. It looked to be busy but not too crowded. She saw a waiter with a tattoo and deemed that a promising sign. Out walked a young woman with large sunglasses - the same kind she was hoping to buy. The place looked perfect. She noted the wooden sign hanging over the entrance. 'Le Jardin Bistro'. She spoke.
"Mmmm Bistro. That sounds good."
As the words escaped her lips she feared they did not make sense. That she'd once again sounded young and overwhelmed and from Minnesota.
Her brother pounced.
He proceeded to tease her about how 'bistro' simply meant 'restaurant' in French and couldn't possibly serve and a valid indicator regarding quality of food. Of course he didn't mention that in actuality 'bistro' carried with it connotations of simple, rustic, and unpretentious fare and that her comment wasn't all that ridiculous. He didn't mention it because she was his little sister and he loved her.
She felt stupid and apologized profously even though deep down she was sure that 'bistro' meant something more than just 'restaurant'. She didn't dare question him though. He was her big brother and she loved him.
They joke about it to this day - as any brother and sister should.
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