At about 9:30 this evening, I finished my frozen chicken pot pie from D'Agostino and was sitting on my couch watching some Jazz/Spurs action. Then the thought struck me: Why am I watching a game that not even members of the Jazz or Spurs care about, especially on this pristine Manhattan night?
Two minutes later I was strolling down Columbus. I figured I'd walk until I was either bored or tired and then start to head back. By about 50th Street (I live on 60th) I was wondering if I'd run into someone I know. Coming to the corner of 47th Street, my self-absorbed thinking was interrupted (and reinforced?) by the yell of "Mike!" I turned around to see my semi-buzzed Kansas friend Bailey running towards me. She was in a wine bar with a friend. She insisted I come inside for a little while, to which I obliged, and I tasted a few sips of various vinos. She and her friend came down with a car they were borrowing in order to move Bailey into my building. Long story short, I ended up driving the friend back to her place on 82nd and Amsterdam, and took Bailey back to good ole' McMahon Hall. Thus an uneventful night can be converted in a New York minute.
I know I'll enjoy living here this summer. I'll enjoy it more in a few weeks when I start collecting a regular paycheck. If you ever find yourself on 60th between Amsterdam and Columbus give me a yell.
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