OK, my malaise was pretty thoroughly burnt off after biking over the Brooklyn Bridge, through Manhattan and through Central Park.
I was a little terrified at the prospect of biking through New York, and it’s a little fucking terrifying, but it’s also the most fun I’ve had in a fucking long time.
Josh and I biked over the Manhattan Bridge the other day, and that was pretty awesome, but Josh swore up and down that the Brooklyn Bridge was way cooler, and I admit, I was kinda dubious. Like, it’s a fucking bridge, right?
Yeah, OK. It’s pretty goddamn cool.
Sadly I am not talented enough / do not have a deep enough death wish to take many pictures while weaving through rush hour traffic through Lower and Midtown Manhattan, but I’m also pretty sure the world isn’t severely missing out on yet another picture of Radio City Music Hall.
Central Park, also, is not ugly, tuns out.
Once I got settled into this hostel, ate showered etc and was ensconced in the common room typing this up last night, I managed to get about three sentences written before somehow being roped into a game of limbo in the basement, because of course, what else would one expect on a Monday night? I pled the excuse of my busted knees to avoid actually participating, but in turn was guilted into assisting with the bar. It was a pretty intense final round between America, Canada, Romania and Belgium(?) but I’m proud to say America won out in the end. This obviously is due to American superiority and not the fact that we had a girl who couldn’t have been much over five feet, while Belgium dude was taller than me and Canada’s first comment — beer in hand — was “whoa, there are, like, two bars already!”
Hung out for awhile afterwards talking of shoes and ships and sealing-wax (and cabbages and kings) with a couple of people, then decided to take a midnight walk with a new friend from Ireland who’d been in the country for all of one day, and I feel I did my part introducing him to the country by getting lost on the Hudson River (eventually necessitating dodging late-night traffic on the Hudson River Parkway to climb up the 125th street exit, unlit and sidewalkless), helping him acquire his first American souvenir in the form of the abandoned driver’s license of some lady named Joslyn in Connecticut, and accidentally initiated an unsolicited sidewalk yoga lesson from some random dude at 2am in Harlem who saw me trying to crack my back.
So yeah, you know. Monday.
I’d tentatively planned to head back down to Brooklyn to claim some space in a friend’s corner, but now I kinda really want to spend another night here in Manhattan. Biking/wandering around yesterday was the first time I’ve ever sort of understood the feeling of possibility that New York is so often said to inspire in people, the idea of limitless potential. So many people doing things; even the little pockets of indolence seem almost humming with life.