Okay, we’re back. Or, well, actually, we’ve been back. Since Sunday. But since then, I’ve been up to my eyeballs in sports figures. With great figures. Or whatever it is you say about guys. Athletic sports guys. You know the type. And I won’t obnoxiously and overtly name names, but let’s just say, generally speaking, they’re easy on the eyes.
However, before I talk about this week, I have a few more things to tell you about last weekend. In New York.
So answer me this question: Why is New York so freaking magical? Subquestion: How can 321 square miles be filled with so many enchanting connections?
Because it does seem that magical things happen there. In big, small, tall, tiny, random, unexpected, undeniable ways. It may have something to do with all the souls running around and into each other there. But it’s something. Something almost palpable.
Plus, it seems that things just click together in New York.
I’ll give you a little snapshot of where I’m going with this.
So I’m wandering around, when it starts to rain, and I look up to see I’m right next to the Angelika, and the amazing movie I want to see starts in five minutes. Coincidence? Maybe.
A few hours later, we walk into our hotel to find that Will Smith is filming a movie right outside (so obviously, the next logical step is to go to the hotel bar, grab a glass of wine or four, and watch 87 takes of the same car chase scene. Because we’re from out of town and all.)
Then. We’re walking down the street in West Village and I run into a friend I was just thinking about the day before (a friend who doesn’t live in NYC), and low and behold there she is. On Christopher Street.
And later. We’re sitting in John’s Pizza when the HcQ gets a text from one of his friends (who doesn’t know we’re in NYC) that his brother’s Atlanta-based band, Spectralux is playing in the East Village that night. Only blocks away from where we’re cramming our faces with pizza. So, of course we head over there, saunter in and shock the hell out of him. (And watch from the front row as they rock the crap out of the place.)
Me and Jonathan, the absolute rock star.
See, all of these things happened. In very short timeframe. Because New York is magic.
And then the most magical story of all from this trip happened the next day. But right now I’m too tired to tell it. Plus I still tear up every time I do. And really, it should be its own post. So it will be. I’ll get to it next week, probably.
But more importantly, and back to the current, do you find en why cee to be as freaking electric as I do? Or not? And if not, where are you when the magic happens?
*The above great photo was taken from here.
Added later: Obviously magical things happen in Los Angeles as well…as evidenced by this amazing video featured on Cool Stuff con Queso.