I have officially become a Crazy New Yorker™.
I started home last night at around 5:30 p.m., and the crowds on the street were the thickest I've ever seen outside of Times Square. Of course, I don't often wander down 6th Avenue in the middle of rush hour during the last few days of Christmas shopping season, so I may not be the authority you want to go to on this one.
In any case, I was facing an equally long walk back to Brooklyn -- I definitely needed clothing other than the stuff I'd be wearing and washing for three days past -- and needed to pick up more stuff from the apartment, so I set out.
I'm going to give you the abbreviated version of this.
From 58th Street, I walked down 6th Avenue to Canal, and turned east. I crossed Manhattan on Canal, and then went across the Manhattan Bridge -- the only point at which I felt the urge to pull out my camera. You can see the results.
After crossing the bridge, I hoofed it along Jay, then Smith Street, and finally turned toward home on Dean.
Of course, I didn't go straight home. I stopped at TWB and had a glass of wine and something to eat. And to give my feet a chance to re-coup.
Big mistake. Once they stopped moving, they didn't want to keep going. I thought they were going to fall off. As though I was the first person in history to be sued for divorce by his legs. The were gonna cite irreconcilable differences and maybe physical abuse.
Here's the surprising thing: When I woke up this morning, the only thing that really hurt were the bottoms of my heels, and the bads of my feet. Most likely, I'd imagine, from wearing dress shoes to walk fifteen miles in. Go figure. I think they'll be sore for a while.
I started home last night at around 5:30 p.m., and the crowds on the street were the thickest I've ever seen outside of Times Square. Of course, I don't often wander down 6th Avenue in the middle of rush hour during the last few days of Christmas shopping season, so I may not be the authority you want to go to on this one.
In any case, I was facing an equally long walk back to Brooklyn -- I definitely needed clothing other than the stuff I'd be wearing and washing for three days past -- and needed to pick up more stuff from the apartment, so I set out.I'm going to give you the abbreviated version of this.
From 58th Street, I walked down 6th Avenue to Canal, and turned east. I crossed Manhattan on Canal, and then went across the Manhattan Bridge -- the only point at which I felt the urge to pull out my camera. You can see the results.
After crossing the bridge, I hoofed it along Jay, then Smith Street, and finally turned toward home on Dean.Of course, I didn't go straight home. I stopped at TWB and had a glass of wine and something to eat. And to give my feet a chance to re-coup.
Big mistake. Once they stopped moving, they didn't want to keep going. I thought they were going to fall off. As though I was the first person in history to be sued for divorce by his legs. The were gonna cite irreconcilable differences and maybe physical abuse.
Here's the surprising thing: When I woke up this morning, the only thing that really hurt were the bottoms of my heels, and the bads of my feet. Most likely, I'd imagine, from wearing dress shoes to walk fifteen miles in. Go figure. I think they'll be sore for a while.
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