I'm a fighter, not a lover.

Monday, September 26, 2005

in NY

It's incredibly muggy here, at least compared to what I am familiar with. It's gray. Sometimes the streets smell a bit like urine. I've managed to get quasi-lost on various subway lines several times already. A movie shoot on my block is causing extreme frustration.

And I am loving every moment of it.

I made it to New York in one-piece on Wednesday night. Four days, 2200 miles; two alone, two with my Dad. Favorite quote heard along the trip: An old man in a coffee shop in North Platte, Nebraska who told the young female worker, "This Cinnabon is tits-up" (referring to the Cinnabon-flavored coffee container).

I remain over-tired and am rocking a sore throat and what may be the onset of a cold, but I am here and arguably, malnourished. Not out of poverty per se, so much as my obsession of sampling every pizzeria in my neighborhood -- and now in my work neighborhood -- to make up for two years of terrible Salt Lake pizza.


Blogger Sara Z. said...

Man. I am filled with envy and resentment. I think I'm having a midlife crisis and a move to NY seems like just thing thing. Oh well. But I'm glad you made it safely!

12:29 PM

Blogger What'sHerFace said...

Welcome to New York, kiddo!

P.S. Lomabardi's on Spring Street. With sausage, if you eat meat.

9:05 AM


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