City Love

I sincerely do. I didn't buy the t-shirt, because, c'mon, that's lame. But, I do love it. After my first real visit, I can truly say that I am a fan. The last time I graced the Big Apple with my presence, I was three. I was taken into the city for the night by my grandparents who lived in New Jersey at the time. Though I don't much remember, I was told that we went to Radio City Music Hall, where I fell asleep during the Rockette kickline--something I had been anticipating all night. I've never been allowed to forget what an expensive nap that was.

This go round, I was awake alright. A friend and I went for a long weekend, though it was not near loooong enough as I would have liked. Arthur, an aged New York native kicked off our visit with a boat tour of the harbor. Arthur was convinced that we wouldn't want to take in too much historical information about the city because it was late in the evening. He said, people don't really retain history past dusk. I wish I'd had the guts to playfully take Arthur by the collar and tell him I didn't traverse hundreds of miles for a joy ride. Of course I didn't.

The next 72 hours were spent traversing the city by foot. Next time, I'm packing my moon shoes. We covered a lot of ground, saw a lot, experienced each diverse neighborhood. And with every borough, I found myself asking, "could I make a life here?"

Maybe my problem is that I'm forever unsatisfied... thinking the grass will be greener on the other side, or maybe I'd really like to entertain the idea of moving to the big city. Perhaps I'd be recharged by the life and culture of such a place. It's possible that I'd find my niche there. It is the mecca of journalism, after all. Not to mention Felicity lived and thrived there. Like her, I could become an employee of Dean and Deluca, spend my summertime evenings watching movies at Bryant Park, and riding the subways like a pro.

What if?