I've said it before: I am a big meat eater. Or, more accurately, I am a small person who eats a lot of meat. The concerns of vegetarians rarely enter my psyche—until recently.
September 2009 Archives
I'm all for being sociable in the city, but I also believe this megalopolis is sometimes best enjoyed straight up. Alone. So when my plans to go to Montauk last weekend fell through on Saturday morning, I decided to treat myself to a day in my own company.
Until recently, I'd never thought of New York as a cycling city. Sure, the cycle lanes were multiplying, but Manhattan's roads were for swerving taxis and wailing cop cars, not bikes.
Since moving to New York I’ve conducted many a solo pilgrimage to the Parker Meridien’s Burger Joint (and given that juicy patty the one-on-one attention it deserves); made friends in the two-hour Shake Shack snake around Madison Square Park, and suffered stomach convulsions from over-indulging on gherkins while awaiting the medium rare main event at Paul’s Da Burger Joint.
Oh, the fickle world of New York nightlife. One week The Jane Ballroom on the westernmost hem of the West Village was a cinch to get into; the next, forget about it.
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