I was complaining about how late I had been leaving the office this week on the phone to my mom when she said something that really struck me: “Sounds like your honeymoon period with New York is over.”
As per usual, she was correct.
It just never occurred to me that parts of living up here would be un-fun. I mean, it’s New York. Glamorous. Sophisticated. Always something to do. Too bad “glamorous” can mean chaining yourself to the laundromat every other Saturday morning because that is the only feasible window you will ever have two uninterrupted hours to cleanse your lights and darks. To that end, “sophisticated” can mean ignoring the belligerent rants of the homeless man on the subway. And “always something to do” translates directly to “never leaving your office… ever.”
In light of this realization, I made a concerted effort this weekend to remind myself why I picked this city and why it is still the bomb diggity.
On Friday evening, I hung out in a trashy Penn Station pub with some of my favorite Belmont faces waiting for some out-of-town friends to arrive. (I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, playing host in this city keeps you on your toes by making you an eternal advocate of all its eclectic glory.) After their bus arrived, we moseyed on down to the only place to be found on the Lower East Side before making a few really bad, diabetic coma-spawning decisions around 2am.
Saturday meant sleeping in until it was time to try my hand at lottery tickets with a favorite former intern. Didn’t win. But that’s okay when you live here and can try any day you want! The rain didn’t keep me and the out-of-towners from patronizing the greatest art museum this side of the Atlantic (which is made all the more sweet when you can get your little entry button for a mere one dollar bill). After that, it was another lottery ticket attempt with another Belmont favorite which also came up short but happened to be across the street from an equally solid Broadway offering which I didn’t mind seeing for the fourth time (even if it was standing room only). Dinner with the visitors and scoffing at $15 cover charges in favor of downtown chicness capped the evening.
And now it’s Sunday. The sun is out, my tummy is full with brunch and I’m looking at another day of absolutely nothing to do but enjoy this town.
The honeymoon may be over, but this relationship is just getting started.