Escape From New York

"But I have calmed and quieted myself, I am like a weaned child with its mother; like a weaned child I am content." Psalm 131:2

Four months.

Four solid months is really the amount of time one can eat, sleep, and breathe without ceasing in New York.

Three months if you want to skip the gnashing of teeth and guttural groans often directed at tourists gawking at the Bubba Gump sign in Times Square like it is the Parthenon.

But if you've done your near best at steering south of Midtown, once you approach the 124th day of enduring the diabolical machine of Manhattan, chances are your head has started to rattle.

And the only remedy that will ease the impending skull explosion, is to get out.

And get out fast.

Before the pulsing ambulance siren becomes a normal ringing in your ear, where a bloody nose and racist slur in the park are just part of the scenery, and you begin to consider four hours of sleep a good night's rest.

Once you are out. Breathe deeply. It's safe.

Watch the frown lines relax and diminish in the unobstructed sunlight.

Feel your tensed elbows relinquish their fighting stance and fall gently to your side.

Hear that?

Its silence.

Now, isn't that better?