Though it is only 20 or so days til spring and we have had an entire Olympics since Punxsutawney Phil did or didn’t see his shadown, NYC is crippled by a late winter storm. This makes trying to get out of town panic-attack inducing. My phone’s vibrate function is now nearly broken from two days of text messages about flight delays and cancellations. The latest crippled buzz: another cancellation.
This inconvenience buys 26 more hours in NYC. On most days of the years, this would be more like a lucky treat, than a major inconvenience. But when it’s impossible to get a cab and walking to the subway is through more snow than the nordic combined track has in Vancouver, you start to think strategically.
The way my mind works is to think about proximities. Where do I want to spend a long, isolated winter day where the most that is asked of me is if I would like another beer? Easy answer. The ultra-cozy and ultra-satisfying Diner in Brooklyn. So I call a friend who lives across the street there and is conveniently out of town for work. I move into his killer apartment and start planning my lunch and dinner at Diner and be ultra thankful for the kindness of friends.
