As I snuggled into my punky-colored seat on the Friday night flight, I thought how appropriate that the first song on the new CD I’d purchased for my trip was called Marching Bands of Manhattan. That’s because that’s exactly where I was going –A few days ago, somewhat spur-of-the-moment, I loaded up my iPod with new Death Cab For Cutie, drove to the airport, and got on a Song flight headed for New York.
A veritable virgin, this was my first time in the city, and I have to admit, being there gave me a very special feeling… I think you’d call it love.
If you’ve never been, New York is every bit as exciting, eccentric and excessive as it appears on TV. Yes, Trump Tower with its sold-gold façade really does glitter gaudily from 5th avenue. And yes, the ice skating rink at Rockefeller Center is filled with clumsy, apple-cheeked children, even at this time of year. And it’s true, Central Park is smack dab in the middle of the city with its tree-lined canopy, offering an amazingly relaxing retreat from the concrete and clamor that surrounds it on all sides.
In New York I:
* Felt my heart swell as I looked down 86 stories from the top of the Empire State Building to see hundreds of taxis zip past thousands of landmarks like the Brooklyn Bridge, Ellis Island, The Statue of Liberty, and The UN and Chrysler Buildings.
* Figured out what enterprising Nigerians do when they’re not scamming kind-hearted, gullible folk via e-mail – They sell high-dollar watches and handbags for dirt cheap, out of cardboard boxes, on the DL in Battery Park.
* Saw two holes where steel structures had been in the days before September 11th. A metal memorial, fashioned from two beams, made in the shape of the cross, reminded me that this city is scarred, and I felt an immense sadness as I stood looking on the street.
And I guess it’s kind of poetic that a girl, (your mistress), who once referred to herself as the “Pimp of Produce”, would adore, so much, a place called The Big Apple. View my NYC flickr photos here.