Friday, I'm in Love

60 hours with no responsibilities, nowhere to be. In a city so big King Kong had to climb the tallest building to be noticed, I found my building to ascend.



McKenna's at 8th and 14th seemed as scalable as any other. Cheap drinks, friendly staff and just short of disease laden couches welcomed me with open arms. Six beers and a couple shots later the mix of rap and alternative music wore thin on the Irish bar's charm.

My next pit stop at the early hour of 11 delivered me into the mind of a co-worker. I got a peak inside the ear of a very gifted musician. The sound waves I surfed were cutting edge and extremely varied. I gained a whole new level of appreciation for those that create music that night.

The previous night's adventure left me dead to the world until the early hours of Saturday afternoon. Thank God. Quite literally. The Pope was visiting that morning. Meeting a friend later that afternoon, the plan was to get up early and walk the streets by the MoMA. Even with my late start the pavement was packed with Pope fanatics sporting shirts, banners and all. Any earlier and I would have been part of the sea his holiness was cruising. So the miracle of a hangover saved me from that crusade.

Lunch with my friend was great (even better because it lead to Tigers/Yankee tickets next week). We walked from the MoMA down about 25 blocks to eat at a place called Live Bait. By the time we found a place and ate it was late enough to call that meal dinner, although it ended up being all three of my feedings. With a full stomach and a tired body, it wasn't much later that I was back at the apartment, crashed for the night.

Sunday brought my first laundry adventure, which was the first annoyance of the city I've experienced. An hour and a half of watching suds shift through the cycles. Not too exciting. Spent the rest of the afternoon deciding what to do that night. An invite to hang out with some people I met on Friday seemed like an option, but laziness was setting in. However, a follow up invite via text left me no option but to attend.

Later that night I found my second favorite place in Manhattan, a dive donned Welcome to the Johnsons.

$2 PBR's says it all. Johnsons was dark and dingy, but delightful. It wasn't a late night, bolted by 11:30, but fun none the same. A 20 minute train ride back (a commute in a car that easily could have resulted in a .08 problem) and I was ready to get a few hours of sleep before starting all over again.

As each day passes, I wonder what the next will bring, but not without reveling in the moment. One week down, and just the beginning.