Few things can compare with a slow Sunday morning in New York. Coffee tastes better, the newspaper is more interesting, the Debussy playing in the background sounds better. Maybe I'm a sap for cliches or maybe I really am a snob.
In a couple of hours the driver's going to take me back across the bridge where the glorious bedlam of LaGuardia awaits and in a few hours I'll be home. Back to life back to ringing phones back to having too much to do. It'll take a couple of days, but I'll get into the swing of things again. I'll choose the life I lead over the life I imagine for myself on this island nation unto itself, this real-life emerald city.
Every time I come up here it's better than the last time and I always think of the last one as the best I've ever had. I can't think of anything else or anywhere else that can so consistently surpass my lofty expectations. If it's possible to be in love with a place I am. So thanks New York, and thanks Brizo and thanks to everybody had had the pleasure to meet this time around. I can't imagine how anything's going to top this weekend, so I'm going to stop wondering and let it happen when it happens.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Talk to me!