In New York City again for work. This trip has been a little more special, though. For one, my wife joined me. It’s the first time in four years she’s been able to join me on a business trip and we’ve had some nice meals and meandering, not to mention it’s grest to get away from a house where you don’t have a kitchen (and won’t for a while).
Secondly, walking around the city has always been one of my favorite things to do – it sparks my fascination with the human race and gets the fires burning in that small area of my brain where I’ve stored the ‘ol sociology minor from college. Whenever I’m walking back to my hotel from the office or from one place to another, I always try to slow down and look at as many people as I can – their expression, their gait, their overall posture. Everyone’s different, of course, and they all undoubtedly have a story I want to hear.
I also walk past old apartment buildings and wonder what ghosts lurk in there. How many stories, lives and one-year leases have come and gone. The tragic, the euphoric, the pathetic. Surely each apartment has seen its share of each. The overused cliche about wanting walls to talk seems to ring a little louder each time I come here. It’s too bad they don’t have a little “history” book in each of these places like we did with our grade-school textbooks. That way you’d be able to see who lived there, for how long, etc. That would be fascinating.
Anyway, my waxing poetic is a mere sidenote to this post – initially I just wanted to remark that as I walked around the city this week, I couldn’t help but break out into a shit-eating grin whenever I saw someone with a Yankee jacket or hat on. It still hasn’t really resonated for me what happened this past October, but being here has actually started the process of acceptance – we did it. So there I am, breaking out into an obvious, almost obnoxious grin now whenever I see a Yankee fan on the street. It’s so awesome to have that feeling.
Back to the dust of my kitchen tomorrow.
Song now playing: Nada Surf – “Happy Kid”