Exclusively Gotham

Just a couple of weeks ago I had the chance yet again to jaunt down to The Big Apple, a.k.a. one of my favourite places on Earth. How can one refuse, really? It's a place of magical proportions, not unlike the oddness felt upon stepping through the gates at Disney World, odd in a good way. Seriously. I've said it before, I'll say it again. Not only is it really the only 'big city' I could see myself living in (even though I currently reside and grew up in the biggest of our nation) it's mainly that amazingly enough, the disappearing factor is what overtakes me. I can fade, I can take my time and know that absolutly nobody else cares what it is I'm doing, look like, going to, etc. It's all just wonderful. On that note, it can be said that there are certain things you get to observe when stepping onto the island of endangered species we might call Manhattan if you will; things you might turn a gaze towards, take it in and simply say "Only in New York". I've been on Subways in Paris, London, Glasgow, Montreal, Toronto and can say that I have never been enlightened with a travelling Barbershop Trio, who were quite good I might add. Aged Black men looking to make a bit of extra coin weaving in and out of cars at each station, collecting in a well worn take out McDonalds bag their tips. Nor a latin family of several teenaged children tap dancing to a version of Sade's "Smooth Operator" that was so fast it was as if it forgot to take it's ridalyn this morning. A walk through Greenwich Village and Soho can only be topped off with cutting through a reunion of likely daily banter as a tall man with dreads nicknamed 'Swell" turns the corner with a tiny blond poodle at his heels meeting up with his local buddies. And let's not get started with the dogs...what I can only compare to a freshly groomed toy maltese puppy, bow dawned upon head between ears, did I not see a stretched out, over teased, high voiced rich mess in an uber chic Italian restaurant the night before leaving. She had no care in the world with her rich husband in arms and diamond encrusted double c (think Chanel) hair bow tacked just above her forehead. I ate before her, it was hard to keep it down. But hey, if I'm going to adapt and become a New Yorker, must roll with the punches and forget about judging. It's all about seeing beyond what you know and accepting it with fresh eyes. Sure, my mother thinks that men dressed up in women's clothing performing are 'Dragon Queens', and when I try to introduce a friend to a great radio station that caters to gay awareness she calls it 'Rainbow Radio' instead of PROUD FM as it's titled, we can forgive. They are trying. Throw them in New York with just a Subway map and a good pair of walking shoes...disaster!

Toodles