“I have been roaming far and wide over this island of Manhattan… The city is thronged with strangers, and everything wears an aspect of intense life.”
-Edgar Allan Poe
Some people might think that driving a car in Manhattan is an adventure. And I would tend to agree. I might also add that driving a car in Manhattan is like gambling, like playing Russian roulette. Your body is the bullet. The car is the gun.
I drove into Manhattan on Sunday night, and I found myself sandwiched between a semi and another car in the Lincoln tunnel, my heart racing as if I had just come in from running sprints. If I lived in Manhattan, I wouldn’t have to work out to get my heart rate up. I would just have to drive a car to stay in shape.
Driving aside, Manhattan is an OK place. When I come here, I’m usually on my way in or out of the country, and I like to spend a few days with The Sister, who lives here. I tend to revisit my favorite places: DTUT for daily coffee, Central Park for afternoon running breaks, and Otto Enoteca for dinner. I think that people are either re-visitors, or they aren’t. You know what I mean? Either you have this impulse to branch out all of the time and go to new places, or you find the places that you really love, and then you keep going back to those places. I don’t know what it might imply about my personality, but I am definitely a re-visitor.
And this is why. I like to have memories of place that develop over time. The Sister and I meet up at Otto, for example. We sit at the bar and order the Prosecco. Dennis, the bartender, comes over and asks us what kind of cheese we want, because he knows that we love cheese. I say we want the triple cream, no matter what, and I let The Sister choose the other two. Peter, the wine guy, comes over to say hello.We decide on a wine. We order pizza. We finish off the evening with a cordial; we call it mead. This is the script, and over the past few years, it has had some variations. Maybe a boyfriend would enter the scene, or GP would meet up with us, and we would sit at a table. Rebecca would be there. Or we would eat pasta instead of pizza. Gelato instead of mead. It’s the variations of the experience that make it grow richer over time, even though I like that fact that some things can still remain the same.