Friday, October 30, 2009
In the Belly of the Beast
Hey, where is the sky?
After a brutal day of travel, we made it to our midtown hotel. The photo above is the view from our window. In a mad attempt to adjust to the three-hour timezone shift, we'll eat early and crash. L already crashed. He was coughing through most of the night in Phoenix. And again coughing on the entire five-hour-plus flight, causing passengers around us to say, how cute, while ducking their faces beneath their sweaters. Poor tyke. He did pretty well though.
M is trying to follow Greg McMillan's running tips for preparing for a marathon. So far, we are failing miserably. You are supposed to accrue sleep on the days leading up to the race and not worry about the night before. Failed. We were up half the night. Also, you are not supposed to let yourself get hungry. Failed. We rushed to the airport and had no food for the flight. Oops.
We just got some Italian food from around the corner. And filled our bellies with pasta. And let the carbo-loading begin. It was nice to walk the streets of Manhattan, even though it was only a few blocks. I've only been in the city for a few hours, but like usual, I can unequivocally say, I love New York. It's a beast. But a beautiful one. The energy. The in-your-face people. The hidden places. As we slurped our pasta, M and I had our which-city is-better-New-York-or-San-Francisco-conversation for the one billionth time. As always, she argues for SF. I for NYC. And then we drop it. It doesn't really matter. In the end, we both prefer the peaks.