Those fuckers were the sole stain on what might have been an otherwise perfectly enjoyable birthday dinner for my uncle. We're enjoying the refreshing breeze and the sound of the water at our dinner table at the Battery Gardens when SMACK. You realize you're too late and yes, you've been bitten by a mosquito again. I look like I have the chicken pox yet again.

And yet, I highly recommend Battery Park to anyone as a perfect date. A night with weather that's just right, how could you possibly compete? Besides, nothing spells attraction like whispering to your beloved, "Darling, could you spray my back with Off! just one more time?"

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