You’ve mastered the art of hailing a cab, have practiced that steely ‘New York’ gaze and have surgically attached your iPhone to your hand but somehow you’re still branded with the scarlet “T” for Tourist.
The room is dark albeit a single circle of light illuminating a handsome comic and solitary microphone stand positioned in front of an audience. There are perhaps 15 people nestled side-by-side in the crowded space, yet each one is laughing as the comedian allows his well-timed jokes to roll off his lips and ignite the… [Read More]
I am sitting at one of those flimsy green tables in a small park by the corner of W. 11th Street and Bleeker in Manhattan’s West Village. It is one of those idyllic New York afternoons that people swoon over and dream of when they think of this city. The leaves above me are… [Read More]
I may have been sitting in the heart of Manhattan but on this particular day Central Park felt like a faraway fairy tale complete with whimsical statues, blossoming flowers and giggling children lazily sailing toy boats across the nearby pond. Like an eye in the center of a hurricane, Central Park was languid and calm–impervious to the swirling crowds, honking cabs and subways just beyond the tree line.
With its crowded subways, pushy pedestrians and over-priced lifestyle, I have often said I have a love-hate relationship with New York City but on this particular evening—having stumbled upon dreamers united simply by melodies—I was reminded of how inspiring a sprawling metropolis can be.