Home (from) Harlem
Megan and I made it back, somehow! NYC was an adventure indeed. I'm not going to enumerate all of the highlights, but I will list a few things that were just fantastic.
First, Harlem was the only place I've ever been in my life (since having dreads) where people didn't stare at my hair as I walked down the street. In fact, it seemed like people couldn't have been less interested in me. Awesome. (And speaking of hair, NYC definitely had a dearth of dreadlocks compared to the west coast, where little nappy headed people were running rampant.)
I ate some of the best Japanese food (Udon and veggie sushi) that I've had since I lived in Tokyo. I rode in a limo. I heard Jim Jones' song "We Fly High" playing from a car window on 138th street in Harlem (I think this is probably comparable to the feeling one gets praying to Allah in Mecca). Ballin! I rode some subways, rode some cabs, ate Mexican and went to many bars. I listened to country music and rap. I met a barber named Fig. I met his pitbull named Tyson. I had one of those take-your-breath-away moments at the MoMA.
I also had some wonderful travel delays with Megan in O'Hare aiport. Blizzard and deicing and standby were the words of the day. I'm still surprised the two of us didn't kill one another. But now I'm home, and it's nice.
brett at 09:40 AM on February 26, 2007 | Permalink | Comments (3)