The Big Apple

New York, you're out of control. You like to divide yourself into "boroughs" instead of using the term "neighborhoods" that the rest of the country likes to use (excuuuse us!). Sometimes you instantly smell like old underwear and hot Honey Buckets, no warning, no time to prepare, and it pretty much feels like eating trash. I have to say, I don't understand how Central Park has such huge craggy rocks in it when the rest of the city is as flat as my dad's feet. I mean, I suppose you just loved you some dynomite back in the day. I get that. You were wild and crazy in your youth, probably a little too reckless and you blasted the shit out of Manhattan. I appreciated that today. Hills would have made our travels cumbersome. I also apprecite how obsessed you are with pizza. I mean, I assumed it would be a big deal here but I didn't know that every pizza shop was "the most famous pizza in New York." That's awesome! Quite the acheivement, even if I don't fully comprehend how it's possible. The slice I had was definitely extremely delicious. Also, I was drunk. On that note, I do not like paying $5 of $6 for a bottle of Coors Light. If there were six of them nestled in a cardboard holder for that price I totally get it. But, one bottle? That's rough. Tell the Blue Donkey to keep it real with those $2 High Lifes. They made that pizza the cheesy magic carpet it was destined to be. And I can't blame you for not having a vegan option. But, it made it especially special when my sister wandered the streets looking for something dairy-free and delicious while I chewed my pizza cud and hoped for a bathroom. Oh, and it was absolutely pouring. What was that all about? Like cats and dogs. Long-haired feral pregnant cats and dogs sort of downpour. And I heard it was 75 in Seattle. Neat. Way to pull the ol' switcheroo when the Northwesterns stumble into town. But I like that about you New York, you're not super cuddly. I mean, there was no misting, no sprinking, no regular ol' raining. You brought the heavens crashing down on the sidewalks and I think that shows a lot of spunk, maybe a bit rude but I've heard rumors that you can be touchy, even aggressively anti-social. Whatevs, Seattle is straight up passive-aggressive so I can respect your directness, even if it increases creeper interactions and almost gets me drilled in crosswalk after crosswalk. Luckily we got to avoid the crosswalks today since it was Street Fair Sunday. I think you could have toned it down a little with the Egyptian sheet hawking (but $10 is such a steal!) but I liked the cheerleaders and Scottish dancers. And it was sweet of you to remember how much it makes me blush to be called "sir" in H&M. That was four years ago that I was there last but you made sure to make it happen again! You even threw in a bathroom challenge in Old Navy to spice things up a little bit. You really shouldn't have.

I have to say, I wasn't sure what you'd be like down at Ground Zero. I sort of expected nothing, maybe a vortex or wormhole or something. But, you look like you're trying to pull yourself back together. Eight years later and it's a hole with cranes and rebar and earth moving equipment. You definitely did not seem yourself there, like way more quiet than usual. I guess it's weird to expect you to be any different. I just didn't expect you to still look so rough around the edges but at the same time I didn't expect you to have done anything to try and move on.

On a less sad note, thanks for sending Tracy Morgan out to say hey. I think he got confused about who he was supposed to be waving to because he seemed to be looking at the people just to our right but, don't worry, we still fumbled for our camera phones and took a picture of him hugging that stranger anyway. We got the gesture and that's what matters, NYC. And right when we thought we were in your good graces you had to put an invisibility cloak on that damn vegan chicken burger restaurant that we tried to sniff out for a solid hour. I did learn a lot by walking back and forth in front of St. Vincent's like we were looking for a magic portal (and I really hope that lady who went in with the dish rag on her hand has all ten digits still attached, she looked nice) and I hope you weren't offended that we finally had to walk back on the other side of the street just to spice things up and keep from wearing down that patch of pavement. When we finally found those chicken burgers they were as amazing as we'd hoped for, even if you doubled the price from lunch to dinner. I was able to forgive your slight of hand when we stumbled onto The Slaughtered Lamb. After texting my friends who I placed utmost faith in having seen An American Werewolf in London, and then being told nope sorry by all, I felt an even stronger bond to you, New York City, when you placed before me the very pub from the foggy Scottish moors?? Amazing! Seriously. So what if me and sixteen other people are the only ones who relish in a werewolf-themed bar. I thought it was fantastic and enjoyed my pint of Sam Adams thoroughly. And nice touch with the fire. It made the grey worth it.