I've been on one of my "I hate NYC" things for the past few days.
Which I'm sure has nothing to do with the summons I was issued for riding a bicycle on a sidewalk.
Anyway, whenever this happens something usually comes along to challenge the statement.
Fate's little way of saying, "you don't really mean that". Or maybe God just knows I need help.
I got onto the ferry yester-eve and stepped out onto the upstairs outdoor deck. This has become fairly uncommon for me as I've elected to do most of my travel via the bicycle in Manhattan, despite the city's discouragement. Even when I'm not riding, I'll still avoid it. I'm so very full of tourists.
It was about 8 o'clock, and the sun had come out at the end of what'd been a rainy day, so there was a visible haze. It was cool, though, not the stifling cloud of stank and rank that will no dubt be showing up periodically from June to September. The was enough sun for the sky to be light and blue, yet the moon hung there full and clear. Off to it's right, was the Verrazano Narrows Bridge, not yet lit and a little bit ghosty in the haze.
And I knew exactly what was happening. The universe was doing that thing where it tries to show me another perspective; show me why I wasn't going to continue to boil at an ulcer that I'd been kicking up for the better part of the previus 24 hours.
And, I said hell no. I was in no way giving in to it, because the hell surrounded by water and toll booths has taken too much of my skin without restitution.
And then the (I/we)
had a realization-resolution-settlement.
It goes like this:
I hate the city...
but I love the view.
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