The Pulse of New York City
Last night I arrived in New York City on the Peter Pan bus from Baltimore, Maryland. The bus dropped us in the underground belly of the bus station where they store the garbage bins. Getting off the bus, in the heat of the summer, I was greeted with the smell of hot, rotting garbage.
Undeterred by the smell, I spotted my burnt orange suitcase on the outside of the bus, reached through the bus passengers and grabbed the handle, engaged the wheels into action, swung into the bus station and began my search for the signs to the subway.
Riding the up escalator, I could feel my heart start to beat faster. I could feel the pulsing rhythm of the city. People scurrying towards the A, C, E, 7 subways. The 1, 2, 3, N, Q, R and the shuttle to Grand Central. I took a deep breath. Be still my heart.
New York City is like returning to a lover. The quickening pulse. The anticipation of jumping into the flow of people traffic. It takes my breath away. My entire body is tingling in anticipation. Excited. Turned On. In love.
New York, New York!
I love ALL of you! The lights, the action, the fast pace, the rhythm and flow and yes, even the moment of smelling the garbage. It is a part of any relationship. I accept all of YOU!
New York! New York!
I love you!
