Right after arriving at our apartment from a weekend spent in my husband's rural Massachusetts hometown, he tells me he thinks his computer has been riddled with even more viruses since he plugged it into a New York wall.
Should this be a sign he isn't as smitten as me?
Brooklyn born Woody Allen said it’s always Manhattan, all the time. This little, compact island, where everything is going on. ....AND I wholeheartedly agree. Damn, its good to be home.
Thirty-three years ago when I was but a gleam, Blue Eyes talked about "being a part of it" and thirty-three days away from my year anniversary, I have to say that regardless of a grittier, far from light hearted, tight little purse strings, fly by the seat of my resourceful pants of a year, I am still blinded by Manhattan's bright and true colors.
The truth of the matter cannot be denied. The tourism consensus is New York City, the greatest city on Earth will attract over 45 million in bound dreamers by year's end looking to experience the sheer magic that keeps all of us hopeless romantics who live here, hopelessly devoted, despite the soggy wet slush we slough through at the end of each block.
As I thought about snuggling up with this week's New York Magazine featuring 100 reasons to love this city, I looked out at my snow covered fire escape at the scantily clad mime standing in the street, felt the pulse of the acid jazz band below me, and answered the door to a freezing cold Mexican man with a smile carrying my piping hot Pad Thai, at 10 o'clock at night....and my personal undying infatuation was affirmed.
My Reason 1: The choice to be marginally known or virtually invisible.
Seeing New York through my eyes...romanticized or unrealistic?
Photo: Getty Images
**Yes, its on my mind. But I have chosen to glorify the positive then talk about how sad I am that a charismatic young man captured the imagination of so many of my peers and is willing to sign his name to federally funded abortions.
