Welcome to my completely uncensored and random stream of thoughts which are probably not interesting at all – but you clearly have nothing else to do right now otherwise you wouldn't be here? So stay a while! xoxo
I know that New York City isn’t for everybody. You either love it or hate it. I fall deeply into the “love it” camp. My adoration of this place brings me here often. The clear advantage, in addition to all my accrued American Airline miles, is that it feels like my second home – especially since I’m past the point of all the touristy stuff. I literally can’t do the Statue of Liberty again, no offense to her at all. She is delightful, beautiful, iconic … but I’m so done.
Although we’ve respectively broken up, I wish her well. So with this seasoned status as non-tourist tourist, I get to just exist when here and pretend I’m a local… like sitting at the adult table when you aren’t really an adult. I feel pretty well versed in the day to day decisions of where to go, what to do, what line to take, what cab is gypsy, what puddle isn’t water, what avenue to avoid, what street purse is real… (FYI – None. You will never find a real Gucci in the back of someone’s van off Canal Street. And no, that’s not Chanel. Look closely, it’s ‘Channel’. Keep walking.)
Another advantage – Manhattan is a little salty with no apologies. Ergo, I get to be kind of a bitch with no real repercussions. Nobody here cares. I come from the South where people are sugary sweet and manner-y. ‘Bless Y’alls Heart’ and all that. You have to maintain a constant level of polite happiness, else the rumors start. If someone sees me and I’m not smiling, suddenly my marriage is in trouble. If I don’t make polite conversation at a PTO meeting, clearly I’ve received a devastating medical diagnosis. Sunglasses to hide allergy eyes? Nope – alcoholic. Wearing no make up to the grocery store? Lost my job. None of that matters to this city. I love that while visiting I don’t have to smile. At all. I don’t have to talk to anyone. Ever. I don’t have to wear makeup. When someone runs into my shoulder and I yell, “What the hell?” – they aren’t offended. They throw it back and we move on with no hurt feelings. Honestly, leave your “Sorrys” in the South because it’s insulting to the heart of this city NOT to have an attitude.
God. Bless. It.
Don’t get me wrong – it’s not like New Yorkers are hateful. Not at all. They will gladly help you as much as they can- ish. They just don’t have time for bullshit or stupidity or hurt feelings. They may not outwardly smile, but inside they are real sweetie sweethearts.
Last week my husband and I were here on business (although it’s always a pleasure). It never fails – I always stumble upon something new, random, unexpected. Sometimes it’s endearing, and sometimes it’s just giving me the finger. I embrace it all. New York City keeps me on my toes. Just when I think I’ve seen it all NYC asks me to hold its beer.
So, I give you a few glimpses why this city will always have my heart…
The subway is my most preferred way to navigate. It’s like an adult version of Six Flags. The people watching ALONE is worth every ride. Since I do come at least once a year, I purposely save my metro card. Makes sense, right? Because each time you get a new card – you have to pay for the actual card plus the money you put on it. Screw that. I’m not paying for a new card every time I come. If I have a balance left – I figure I’ll use it the next time I’m here. Normally this brilliant economic plan of mine plays without a hitch. But every now and then there is a timing glitch in my visits – as seen below. But nice job, Metrocard. Not only does it let me know my card has expired – it shakes a little salt into the wound by also informing me exactly how much money I just lost. Can I get it transferred? Sure. Is it a pain in my ass? Absolutely. You have to take said card to a subway station and have an agent transfer it. Riiiiiiight. How many times recently have you actually seen an attendant? Point made. So, well played MetroCard. Well played. You got me. 👏👏👏 Enjoy that $14.45.
We normally hit our favorite eateries, but this trip we ventured out and tried a new place. Cafe Luxembourg was A$$TASTIC!! 🙌 The food was wonderful, the champagne was delightful but not crazy expensive, and Quincy our waiter was perfection. But this!!! When they presented the bill to us they also included a vintage postcard of the restaurant with naked women on it. I colored in the best assets of this card for my viewing public. But will I come back? You bet your ass I will. 100%. I’m slightly curious to see what image will be on the next postcard. 🤣
Are. 👏 You. 👏 Kidding. 👏 Me. Not only do you know me NYC, you complete me. Take a minute and let this picture soak in. Hell yeah I want a champagne vending machine in my hotel!!!! 😎🤩🙌 I shouldn’t be punished for wanting some bubbly after the lobby bar has closed or room service has shut down or it’s Sunday morning and nobody is serving til noon. If I need bubbles, NYC has my back any time of day! I’m not gonna lie – I teared up a little when I saw this sweet gal all lit up!
Y’all, please! This is beyond greatness. In my almost 48 years of life I have never ever ever seen an entire chicken carcass just randomly lying in the street. In NYC – NOBODY bawked. While I, the non-tourist tourist, was amazed to the point of taking a picture, I watched droves of New Yorkers dash around this unfortunate bird minding their own business. Some literally stepped right on top of this pitiful poultry without batting a feather or skipping a beak. Chicken in the street? So what? They. Don’t. Care. Nothing phases them. I love this city and the people who effortlessly jump over the remains of the day!
I can’t begin to tell you how many times I’ve used the restroom at a restaurant and thought to myself “If only there was a Photo Booth nearby so I could take my picture post pee.” Okay, okay … Never. But BAM! This city solves problems you haven’t even thought you had yet. 🤣
This. Right. Here. This slide is one of my absolute favorite things to do when I’m in town. It’s part of the Billy Johnson playground in Central Park and built right into the landscape. Enter it from East 67th. This particular visit included a new experience in that I had to get a little b*tchy with an adolescent asshole who tried to cut in front of me. As a former teacher, cutting is high on the list of school sins. My stern teacher look did not deter him so I had to up my intimidation game with a quiet but threatening “Back of the line, kid. You’re not pulling that cutter sh*t on me.” Down I joyously went – but the little asshole wasn’t about to let me win. He immediately set out behind me – clearly to challenge my authority. Undeterred, he ran directly into my back leaving dusty Stride-rite prints against my navy sweater. Those are his satisfied beady little eyes directly behind my head. Truth be told, I wasn’t even mad. Good for you kid for coming back at me. So yeah, I raced him back up the hill. And I won. After I tripped him. All the feels. 🥰
Finally, no matter how many cards you’ve sacrificed on the subway, images of nudity you’ve encountered, baby bottles of vending machine bubbly you’ve bought, chicken carcasses you’ve cantered around, post pee photos you’ve posed for, altercations with angry adolescents you’ve engaged in … you stumble upon a beautiful scene such as this underneath it all. My experiences here continue to inspire and entertain. I will always come back.
See you soon, New York City.
See you soon.
I was in love with New York. I do not mean ‘love’ in any colloquial way, I mean that I was in love with the city, the way you love the first person who ever touches you and never love anyone quite that way again.
– Joan Didion