Yesterday, I really felt like a New Yorker. The weather was getting warmer and as I walked around town smoking a cigar with Archie, I must have had the magic, the vibe, the luck that made everyone think, “I need to talk to that guy.”
We were repeatedly stopped by people — and not just for the ubiquitous, “OMG! That is the cutest dog EVER!” comments (which Archie is soooo over).
What really made me feel like I had arrived though was that for all of the questions — I had an answer. And the correct answer at that!
Now, I’ve been asked for directions many times before in NYC and usually I don’t know where the person is trying to get to — or — in a few select worst case scenarios, I’ve given out the wrong directions.
Yesterday? I was on it. I knew the best route, the cross streets, answers to follow up questions, alternative locations for the store they were trying to find, everything.
I was no longer a tourist, no longer a transplant. I was obviously a well seasoned New Yorker.
Heck, only took 4 years.
(Although I’m sure many actual born and raised New Yorkers would put me to shame. And I’m also not resting on my laurels too much — I still don’t know enough about the city. I just got lucky in a neighborhood I knew well.)
Lucky days, indeed.
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