Summer in the City

Dear reader,

It's been a while hasn't it?

Summer. Summer. Summer. That's my only explanation.

Despite the crazy schedules and a much needed break, I'm back just like that one boy band. No, not One Direction.

On my weeks off, I've had the wonderful opportunity to visit one of my favorite places.

The city that never sleeps. The melting pot. The concrete jungle. The Big Apple. NYC.

The city was alive like I'd never seen before. People were out and about, some with masks, some without. The weather was dazzling, a stroll through Central Park desirable.

Don't get me wrong, the city was not without it's gritty charm. If anything, the charm was intensified.

Trash wasn't just piled up on street corners as it usually is. It was in the middle of the sidewalks, causing pedestrians to look down at their feet, attempting to avoid an empty pack of Marlboro's sitting in between two concrete slabs. The city's odor was a new kind of vicious, a burning dumpster scent with notes of marijuana and rotten sewage. That's another thing: the marijuana.

The legalization of marijuana in NY simply hadn't crossed my mind. But, man was I made aware of it once I stepped out of my hotel door. In Times Square, men crowded around street corners, viles of cannabis in their hands, waiting for some tourist to pay $10 for an experience they can't get in Wyoming, or wherever they're from.

Everything stereotypical about New York seemed more New York. Streets dirtier, people crazier. And it was beautiful.

The subways were hotter than they had ever been before. The heat from busy people going busy places filled the trains, filling me with my own kind of anticipation.

The outfits were outlandish. Track suits of pink, midi skirts and wedges strutted the runways of Manhattan, broadcasting summer 21's hottest new styles.

Our first day there, the Met saw us hungry for art, bee-lining to the plates and china section. The museum was peaceful, with not too many people around to disturb our search for Washington Crossing the Delaware.

At a Yankees game, old friends from Jersey caught up behind us, talking about their respective plumbing businesses. Popcorn was thrown, as player Gary Sánchez disappointed the crowd. The subway ride back was dark, families from Ohio asking me for directions.

Sunday, Father's Day, didn't seem real. Leaving the hotel at 6:30 p.m., my father and I walked the 9 short blocks towards musical greatness, also known as the Garden. That's right: MSG. Not only was this the first full-capacity show since the Pandemic, but it happened to be performed by one of our favorite bands, the Foo Fighters.

Lead singer Dave Grohl sang their best songs, cussing in between tracks about the legend that that night would become. Drummer Taylor Hawkins even sang for all of us, murdering 'Somebody to Love' by Queen. Comedian Dave Chappelle made a shocking appearance, walking onto stage wearing shades and tight joggers, somehow knowing all of the words to Radiohead's, 'Creep'.

Everything considered, summer in the city was epic. More than epic. Breathtaking.

New York is officially open again, summoning people out of their fire escapes and onto the streets. I only wish that I could stay forever. And ever.

Here's to having a favorite place. And that favorite place being better than you ever could've dreamed. I missed you New York. Everyone did.

FYI: If you wanted to know just how much I love the summer in the city, just check out the playlist I made for the very occasion. Or don't. I can't choose for you. Thanks a bunch :)))