Only 3 more days of "scary drops" for the bunny, and I found the perfect birthday gift for Rick Barry:
I'm the best daughter. Ever.
Also, along with my March Madness List of Happiness, I can now look forward to a trip to Boulder in April and another trip to New Orleans in June. Traveling really does make me the happiest I've ever been...Last year around this time I was focusing on my celebrations leading up to turning 30, and one of the things that I learned in addition to:
- it's good not to live in squalor (thanks IKEA!)
- my wisdom teeth are over-rated
- Jamaica rules
is that the most effective way to stay in love with New York is to give myself the opportunity to miss it.
During an extended period without escape I become a Mega New York A**hole. Case in point-- FL for Christmas was my last trip, I had to walk through Times Square today to get to a meeting and I unabashedly photo-bombed a tourist's snapshot while mumbling "Ya know what's cool about New York? Me." So around this time I know I need to get off the island soon, or else I'm going to start pushing people onto the subway tracks...or clipping them at increasing levels of aggression as they try to push onto my train car before I've had the chance to get off...or follow an offer of "sorry" by shouting "but you're not!" if the sentiment is not returned when our umbrellas collide on a crowded street (of which there are no other kind)...you get the idea.
So I have to go away. To places where I am given time to reflect and regret the absence of
- the hum of the Triboro bridge out my apartment window
- takeout from Crave until 5 AM
- 24 hour public transportation
- everything literally being in walking distance (if I have the time)
- the stores people in other cities can only visit by using a web browser
- being able to go to literally 100s (if not 1000s) of other bars if I act like a d**k in one of them
There's a certain amount of time it takes to relax into this other lifestyle and get to the "missing" though. In Florida for example, it takes some extreme meditational breathing for me to not want to stab an old lady in front of me at Dunkin' Donuts if she can't decide what she wants. I eventually realize that I'm wearing flip flops, and have absolutely no place important to be, plus I should probably not stab granny since by the looks of her these may be her last 2 donuts anyway.
After I deflate my a**holery enough to enjoy myself it's smooth sailing and 100% restorative. I can't believe my bar tabs are so low, everyone is so f**king polite, and I can turn off my phone without twitching.
Inevitably though...this leads to boredom.
As awesome as cheap beer and nice people are, eventually I want to come back to NY, cuz here I can yell "F**K YOU" at the top of my lungs at any given time without raising a single eyebrow...and then go home and pet my bunny.
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