Big Gay Ice Cream

I am a child, and I love ice cream. So I had to go to Big Gay Ice Cream in the West Village in NYC, if not for the name, reputation and whimsy of it all then at least for a coyingly sweet treat.

My Big Gay Ice Cream cup. Chocolate and vanilla ice cream with a chocolate shell and chocolate sprinkles. Just for yucks.

I was desperately full after eating this ice cream. My dad and I walked back to our hotel Dowtown from the West Village, so at least we burned some calories, right?

The reason I got this ice cream in the first place was because I felt this burning, hedonistic desire while in the city to experience as much as I could. Mostly, this feeling manifested itself by me abandoning self-restraint and eating as much and as often as I possibly could.

Mind you, my dad and I dined at Sevilla, a traditional Spanish restaurant that oozes tradition and garlic, earlier in the evening. It won the America’s Classic award from the James Beard Foundation in 2015 for its timeless, quality food and atmosphere.

But you’ll have to hear about that in a different story.

I was so full from dinner, but I had nagging sweet tooth. I got the ice cream, shoveled it down, then trudged onward to the hotel.

All that was left in the cup were some lonely sprinkles I was unable to will myself to ingest.