A long weekend.

Not really.

It felt like it was over in a blink of an eye.

A break from the routine of life is a wonderful thing.

I felt emotions that I had tucked away somewhere, long forgotten.

The ride to the top of the Word Trade:  Wow!  The scenery, overlooking the big apple from the 102nd floor:  Amazing.  The panoramic view of the area:  Spectacular.  It took my breath away.  I was filled with wonder and awe, like Peter Pan, for awhile.

A broadway play:  Fabulous.  It brought out my more serious side, as I got immersed in the Lillian Hellman story of a corrupt family in the South.  A great drama, and one whose story continues on, decades later, and not just in the South.

A gigantic Filet Mignon.  Ok, I have lived in the Midwest, in Nebraska, where the steaks are king.  However, you haven’t had a steak until you try one in a Steak House in the big apple, even if your waiter tries to get you to take him home.

The crowds?  Biggest I have ever experienced.  People weaving their way through the streets, day and night, shoulder to shoulder, working their way to somewhere.  I doubt if it really mattered where they were going.  Somehow it just felt good to be a part of it.

Drinks at our fav bar in Times Square, of course, with Orla.  She is our one constant thing we do when we hit the city.  It would not be the same without seeing Orla for a couple of bloody Mary’s and a parting shot of Irish Whiskey.  If you are wondering, try RedBreast.  But don’t expect to be able to walk on your own. Ha!

Roof top bar on a mild Saturday night, watching the signs blink from Times Square.  Relaxing after a whirlwind of 2 days, laughing and sharing memories.

It was a trip to remember.

Home again, home again, jiggity jig.

It’s been said that people who live in the city, go to the country for a holiday weekend.  And people who live in the county, often go to the city.  Variety.  Yes.  It definitely is the spice of life.

 

Wolf

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