Taking a Bite of the Big Apple

Ah, New York... Magestic, magical Gotham, open 24-7, a hubub of manic activity. I love your subways and streets, your bridges, your taxis, your opinionated peeps who speak their mind and dare to utter words that PC-bound San Franciscans shudder to think. I just returned from a whirlwind trip to the Big Apple and am spellbound. When I visit NYC, I typically shun the tourist traps: Statue of Liberty, Empire State, Ellis Island. I prefer to walk its streets, ride its subways, while away the day in its numerous parks, drinking in its essence . Never have I felt that a place "got" me. People are always surprised when I cite NY as my favorite city. "But you're so mellow and meek." Exactly, so I travel to ESCAPE my rather dreary self. Forget long walks on the beach, I crave stimulation, intensity, excitement. I love its extremes. Ninety degree weather and thunderstorms. Back in SF, it's 60 and foggy. In NY you can be yourself. You can ride the subway with a vexed look on your face, considered criminal in sunny CA and subject to a fine by the happy police. I love dancing the night away until 4 am with tranny burlesque dancers on the lower East Side. Flirting with 22-year-old hipster boys in Williamsburg. Eating Polish for brunch in Greenpoint and Egyptian for dinner in Queens. Attribute it to my childhood in Oakland but I thrive in chaos and quiet unsettles me. If cities were like men, New York would be the irresistible bad boy: gritty, a bit unreliable, and full of surprises.