I spent last weekend in New York City.
That Thursday evening, I was struck with the express desire to visit NYC (for the first time). I tried to come up with a reason to justify such an excursion and its expense, and failed beyond "Just because"; however, I came up equally at a loss for a reason not to go. And so NYC it was. I was on a plane the next afternoon (on a free-ish ticket, "bought" with saved-up frequent-flyer miles).
Not much to say about my NYC caprice, really. Despite the relatively exotic locale (you would see Times Square just outside my hotel window, were the snapshot not so despairingly bad), my trip, and its attendant yoga (again performed hermetically in my high-rise room), was pretty routine. I ate food from a reasonably priced market. I walked miles over the crazed streets, and was not so much as harassed (though I had my mugger's wallet handy, not so much out of fear but just to use the darn thing for once). I took a sightseeing tour over Manhattan, and indulged in much people-watching. I left intact, and quite contented with my trip (as well as well-stretched, not having fallen behind on my yoga).
Uninteresting? Perhaps, to the outside observer. Worth blogging about? Well ... for me it is.
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