Just another New York City October 🎃

My friend and I had a conversation today over lunch about how her husband, who will turn forty next year, has been going through an existential crisis lately that ends each weekend with overeating pastries. After we parted and I was freezing, I went to eat alone because I was the only one in our party of two who was starving. I was alone at the bar, caught in my teenage comfort foods—matzah ball soup, French fries, coffee, and cheesecake—staring at the windows in front of me. For a split second, I had my own crisis—unsure if it was truly existential or just a typical New York City “romantic” moment many have experienced before me. I didn’t really think of myself; I thought of New York City and its magic. As I finished my second cup of coffee, melancholy and nostalgia took over me, but I can't say that feeling was sadness entirely. No, it was a “romantic” NYC moment, as if that's how one is supposed to feel after an amazing day in the city. I felt as if I was part of “You’ve Got Mail,” with Tom Hanks just around the corner. Then I thought, maybe New York City really is the best place to be if you give it a chance. I will not question if that feeling is just an illusion. Not tonight.

Done