I was afraid, due to time constraints, that I wouldn't have a chance to really experience New York. I had a horror of going home without feeling that vibe that everyone says that New York owns.
I soon learned that you don't have to go to the Empire State Building to have the New York experience. Since every inch of the Big Apple has been immortalized on film or in literature, every inch of it also serves as anyone's personal tour attraction. In no other city, I imagine, would the sight of fire-escapes zigzagging up the side of every building inspire a feeling of satisfaction and familiarity. And yet I was worried. Would I lose New York before I even got a taste of it?
I was in a cab, just one of the many that make up the yellow sea that flows through New York streets, when the Biscuit called. My first long day on the trade show floor had ended, and I was exhausted beyond understanding. I remember that I was wearing my favourite classic black heels, and a certain black skirt and top ensemble that gives me pleasure because it's one of the few outfits I own that is almost unforgivingly chic. (Your Mare is a lot of things, poppets, but chic is something she hasn't a hope of mastering any time soon.) Anyway, there I was, exiting the cab and flying through the hotel, barely nodding to the doorman as he held the door open for me to rush through.
In New York City, I came to understand, there is no time for dilly-dallying. You are forever waging a losing war against the clock. I had exactly 18 minutes to confirm the next night’s plans with Biscuit, get the stench of the day off of me, and make myself pretty for my evening engagements with the rest of the staffers that had flown across the ocean. I had my briefcase flung over my shoulder, and a pile of other files in my arms. I was click-clacking away across the marble parquet floor of the hotel foyer, my mobile clamped to my ear the entire time.
And that's when I realized that, by hook or by crook, I was having the New York experience after all. I was dressed well, in a hurry, and flying from work to play, all while making plans for the next day and wearing excellent shoes. I was New York Woman. I was ready to rumble.
All I needed, really, was three cats and a vibrator to make the picture complete.
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