Lately I’ve been going to places because I feel like it. For instance, I went to Toronto on a whim because I wanted to see the Hockey Hall of Fame. My friend and I just recently went to New York City because we wanted to see it during Christmas time. Aside from the massive population explosion because of everything Christmafied, I have a love affair with New York. Me. The kid who lives for Arkansas football games and is used to see a dead deer being skinned.
Yes. I want to live in New York, even if just for a year. Maybe I’m crazy, but I fell in love with being called an “ungrateful bitch” by the many homeless men with Tourettes. I named the first NYC rat I saw Speedy Gonzales and was rooting for him to not get hit by the train. The food was delicious and I willingly ate things I normally wouldn’t with people practically screaming 3 feet from me about their future plans for grad school to study astronomy (okay, so maybe I hated that kid, but whatever). You can walk everywhere. You can people watch out the wazoo. You can be surrounded by a bajillion people and then turn down one street to utter quiet. You can see real life versions of “Diary of a Mad Black Woman” taking on the city.
Yeah. I think I need to try it out. Plus, there are so many more coffee shops I haven’t tested to in my new found quest to taste “The World’s Best Coffee.” Plus, it looks like this:
One hand in the air for the big city
Street lights, big dreams, all lookin’ pretty
No place in the world that could compare
Put your lighters in the air