In 40 hours in New York, specifically Manhattan, I:
- lost a favorite sweater, but comforted myself that I had had it for 3 years and probably got my money’s worth
- ate two fantastic dinners, ate entirely too much, drank entirely too much, did not get hung over
- tried a new app, Uber, which I was impressed with via friends’ use and then via my own
- saw a Broadway show (Kinky Boots, which gets an A++)
- discovered that a NY sommelier can handle clear directions like “pick a Rhone that puts hair on your chest”
- shared an apartment with four other women (even if only for one night) and we’re still friends
- messed up my back (again)
- rode the subway, got carsick in a cab
- walked through a bit of Central Park
- had GREAT coffee (Manhattan), had crappy coffee (JFK)
- saw every human cliché: the skinny socialite, the modern family, the naked cowboy next to the Cookie Monster in Times Square
- had someone else do my makeup with satisfactory results (including false eyelashes)
- slept 8 hours
- rediscovered my friends, realized how much I missed them, and vowed to try harder to see them.
I did not get to partake in everything, courtesy of the back, the need for sleep, and just general timing. What I was there for I enjoyed thoroughly. But I think that has more to do with the company, than with the destination.