A and I have been in New York City since Monday.
I’d forgotten how much I love this metropolis; I lived here between 1997 and 1999. That was a long time back.
The weather is delightfully crisp (think jeans and a light jacket). The bagels and street-side hot dogs and pizza slices are even tastier than I remember them. And I’ve loved seeing the light filtering through the canyons of skyscrapers once again. Not to mention, of course, Gotham’s finest attribute: the great crush of humanity, with Nigerians and Nicaraguans and Albanians and Alaskans all pressed together on the subway.
There’s only one NYC.
Anyway, the reason I’m writing: If you’re in the area and would like to meet up, we’re getting together with a group of friends at a bar in the West Village tomorrow night (Thurs. the 15th). Email me for details.
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Remember your Times Square roommate Benson? And that apartment! Oh, man. Will you be treating yourself to a tequila and a Tecate at the Cherry Tavern?
How could I forget Benson? He was a great guy. And still is, I’m sure. Didn’t get a chance to see our old apartment. Alas, we didn’t have any specials at Cherry Tavern, either. Next time.
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