R., Isabel, my sister J., and I are into our second night here in NYC. I can see now why so many people love this city, and I’ve seen but a sliver of it in the thirty or so hours I’ve been here. (WARNING: RAMBLING STREAM OF CONSCIOUSNESS APPROACHING)
I must confess to having some serious misgivings prior to this trip, and for the life of me I can’t identify their roots. Whatever the case, it was all good from the moment we got into the shuttle van at Newark International. The driver, a self-proclaimed immigrant from the Soviet Union, was as friendly and helpful as one could ever ask for. He offered us advice on where to shop, what to see, and where to eat (we took him up on the first and last bits, and were not disappointed).
I’ve found that for all the fast pace and bustle of this segment of the metropolis, most people are at least moderately friendly and warm. Granted, that could be because we are traveling with a toddling charm reactor (Isabel), but I will subtract no credit from these New Yorkers on her account. I have seen so many smiles and been offered so many polite niceties that it can’t be that unusual.
Time at this terminal is limited, so I’ll skip the highlights for when I get home. See you then.