And brain dead to boot. I think all the shifting and changing and running around this past week finally caught up to me and I'm about to do a crash and burn, so one quick note.
I like NYC...but I could never live there. Everything has been so completely downsized, a medium-priced hotel room is half the size of my studio apartment. The subway system is easy to use once you work it out...but good luck finding working escalators or where the hell the elevator to the lobby is at any station; it's all walking up and down stairs, and few of the stations have even a hint of AC. Some areas of the city stink (especially where there have been horses of any kind), and while some people are very helpful, others go out of their way to be difficult...which adds WAY too much burden to an already difficult city. My best meal was fish and chips in the diner at the base of the Empire State Building (Heartland Diner?); my worst, a sandwich from Dean & Deluca's that was nearly inedible (even with mustard and mayonnaise). And worst sin of all -- you have to HUNT for Dr. Pepper. Horrors! I also noticed no grocery stores anywhere, just markets. So...great place to visit, for a few days.
Pictures will follow. Right now, I'm dog-tired and still need to shower. Problem is, Brendan keeps nudging me. "Okay. We're home now. Let's to work." Slave driver. I'm about to go on strike...but I can't figure out which union I'd belong to for a novel. Can't do the Writers' Guild; they're just scripts. Damn...I may have to start my own.