We all scream for ice cream

Mywife is always finding interesting things to do on Instagram.

The other day she was skimming through her feed and said, “Oh wow!” Usually that means she’s seen a bag she’s been wanting to buy on sale but in this case she was looking at bright, colorful photos.

I said, “What’s that?” and she responded, “The Museum of Ice Cream in New York City .” I took a moment to Google the place and soon I was saying “Wow.” It was, exactly as the name describes, a museum dedicated to ice cream. Short of there being amuseum of beer and chicken wings, this sounded like a fun place to visit.

It just so happens the wife and I were scheduled to go to NewYork City a few days later to see a Broadway show, so I contacted the ice cream people and asked if they offered passes to the media if they wanted to visit and write an honest review of the place? They wrote back “we sure do” so nowwe had two things to do on our trip to the big city.

To avoid over-crowding, the ice cream museum only allows a certain number of people to enter each hour. They prefer you secure tickets for acertain time so we picked 11 a.m. This would allow us an hour to tour the place, which is located in SOHO, a twenty minute cab ride back to Times Square, lunch and then get to our show at 2p.m.

I know, I know, it sounds like a lot of running around but if we left on time from home we’ d be just fine.

That’s where things went off the rails early. Our 7:45 a.m. drop dead must leave time turned into eight o’clock because mywife is a woman and women generally need more time than mento get ready for anything. It’s not their fault, we men just throw on a t-shirt, push back our hair and say “ready.”

Women carew hat they look like so they put in abit more of aneffort.

As we sailed down the thruway we didn’t fight over music selection on the radio, I was even fine when she put hip hop on and i felt my metal fillings ready to jump out of my teeth. Then it happened.

My wife was driving and I clearly said out loud, “Tolls up ahead, twomiles, get right.”

My wife heard me but for some reason stayed left. We don’t have E-Z Pass, because I watched too many X-Files episodes and don’t want the government tracking me, so we needed to pay cash. The cash window toll booths were on the right and now it was too late to move over. This set off an argument every married couple has had which always ends with, “Then why don’t you drive Mr/Mrs. perfect.

We arrived to the city at 10:35 (amazing time) and the cab got us to the Museumof Ice Cream right on schedule.

Unfortunately we were both annoyed with each other over the toll thing so we were NOT in a hot fudge and marshmallow kind of mood. First thing they do is give you a name tag to stick to your shirt and you had to choose your own name; write something fun they said.

My wife wrote, “Jesus Fix This” and I wrote “My Grumpy Wife .” The guy giving the tour looked at our tags and burst out laughing saying in thousands of visitors he’s never seen something so funny. His laughter broke the tension andwe both forgave her for screwing up the toll thing.

As the tour began we noticed the adults were far outnumbered by the kids. This made perfect sense because this was not a fancy museum with Picassos and Monets, it was a three floors of Willy Wonka, if Willy only loved ice cream.

Every room you went into hada guide telling astory and lots of free ice cream. And not just boring vanilla and chocolate either.

One room looked like you were inside a honey comb filled with pretend bees and they served honey ice cream. Another room had a guide to ice creams from around the world, which are much different than our sin America. There was a big ball pit filled with rubber spinkles kids could dive into, a playground where the teeter-totter was made of huge spoon sand kids could skip the stairs and use an indoor slide to go from floor to floor.

I want to bean honest broker here, if you’re a child, you’ll flip out over the place. If you’re ana dult who only mildly loves ice cream and kids running around your feet, this might not be for you. But for any family on a visit to Manhattan, I think your children will have a blast.

The $39 admission fee (kids under 2 free) is abit steep but trust me your children won’t want lunch after eating all that free ice cream, so you’ll save right there. I suspect they also have deals and coupons available if you hunt around abit. So...

If this were an actual review, much like mywife’s driving, I’d give it three and a half out of four scoops.