It’s easy to forget how special New York is when you’re living in it. I imagine that there’s a similar effect to being a billionaire. Their norm is to take an impromptu vacation to Bora Bora just like the norm for a New Yorker is to sit next to a man with his pet rat dangling from his mouth (you were warned!!!!)
This past week was a blur, but it was a much needed break from routine. I felt completely enamored of the city, and little things tickled me the way I imagine they do for tourists — the young woman marching down Broadway with cockroach clips in her hair, or the middle aged man who stopped in the middle of the park to bend way down and gingerly kiss his old cocker spaniel.
I ate Absolute Bagels, street peanuts, deli sushi. I went on a sort-of date, finally got to wear heels for thirty minutes before getting over it, and thought a lot about whether or not I like mules (yes? no. yes. sort of.) I rode the subway everywhere (one day I rode it NINE TIMES) and had lots of catch-up elevator chats with the people in my building. Side note: it’s a real test of your summarization skills to see how effectively you can update someone over the course of five floors.
I waited in line at a Starbucks. I mindlessly thumbed through bodycon dresses at Forever21. I got stepped on by a gorgeous Russian model. I stopped at a Whole Foods to pee. It was all very New York, but it’s good to be back.