A Sex and The City tour bus unloads streams of people palming cupcakes. Touristas skipped indulging in seconds at Magnolia Bakery. That’s one trick to forgo the hooked line circling back to Bank St. But it feels like spring and smells like winter, so who cares about the lines.
The cupcake bouncer cares. Although she doesn’t lift or work out to keep her bouncer title, she’s got a set a lungs to keep the troops in line. “Fights have broken out before, ya know.” Oh, I believe it.
Inside are the expected trays of cupcakes, jars of sprinkles, tubs of sugar flowers, bowls of nonpareils. Gobs of pastel icings. Women in bandanas smear it on thick and are heavy-handed with the goods. Old-fashioned jars of enormous cookies make even the lactose-intolerant crave milk.
To skip beyond the line, you needn’t show up in a limo or with a gaggle of girls. Name-dropping won’t work. Unless the name is Banana Pudding. If you tell the bouncer you’re there for other treats, beyond the cupcakes, you can saunter right in… let them think you greased her.
