I didn’t plan on it, but a morning spent wandering around my favorite borough in search of a slice and coffee (yes, pizza and coffee) led me to the BK entrance to the massive structure. I continued across, mesmerized by the gleaming East River and NYC skyline.
The pedestrian traffic on the bridge was chaotic. Bikers rang their bells furiously as photo-snapping tourists blocked their exercise routes. Kids begged for frozen lemonade from vendors strategically located smack-dab in the middle of the sweltering mile-long trek. Women clicked their way from one end to another in red-bottomed stilettos, which puzzled and impressed me. I had no idea how they did it and no intention of finding out for myself. My green high tops were stylish enough.
Dumping me into Manhattan at the end of the line, I continued my urban exploration for hours.
Grabbing lunch with a friend from Pace University, pausing for a moment of silence at the World Trade Center, snacking on a dumpling while perusing the kitschy Canal St. goods, window shopping in SoHo, witnessing a Trayvon Martin protest in Union Square at the height of the trial, running out of the Times Square tourist trap as fast as I could, and catching some shade beneath a willowy tree in Central Park while discussing clouds with a monk made up my last day before heading back to St. Louis.
I love New York.
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