On recent a call with my friend Lindsay in Amsterdam, she gave me some names of some restaurants to check out, and a list of the must-sees. When I asked about how the driving was, she laughed and quickly said “ You couldn’t pay me to drive in that city!”

Well, last night, after I finished up my shoot for the day, I sat around and thought about what to do. I was in Yonkers ( I know...) which was 25 minutes from the city. “25 minutes” I thought to myself, “Thats too close to ignore”. I thought about Lindsay’s reaction to my question about driving, so I quickly rationalized that she is a female driver, and I, obviously a macho man driver; ready to tackle the mean streets with my aggressively safe driving.

 

When I crossed over into Manhattan, I looked at the clock, and it only took me 10 minutes. Then, from W.42nd, which is on the northwest of the island, to Boca Chica Restaurant on 1st, on the south-east of the island, took me no less than an hour and a half! And, folks, this is macho man driving! Then... of course, you have to find a place to put your vehicle so its there when you’re done dinner. That took another hour, which could have easily been a lot longer than an hour.

 

The food was good, and the atmosphere was even better.

 

Then, I had to start thinking about driving home. Why not a quick cuppa first?

So, i have my coffee, and I start my journey, now, already knowing that I have a long trip ahead of me. Just as I get onto the expressway that is anything but express, I start thinking about what that cup of coffee turns into after my body is done with it... not good. After about 35 minutes of moving 2 miles... seriously, 2  miles... I start to get worried. First comes making sure the seat belt isn’t squeezing my bladder. Second is loosening the belt on my pants, to let my body make space for the fluids making their last stop before the big exit. Then, when I start worrying about the bumps on the road, even at the slow speed I was at, I know that things are getting serious. I knew that taking an exit off the endless sea of express-less cars, would easily add another hour to my trip. But then, on the other hand, I thought of the amazing orchestra awaiting me at some dark corner of the park adjacent to the highway. It was no contest. I took the next exit, making sure the bumps and breaking was smooth as silk, threw on the four-ways, swiftly ran into the park, and the orchestra played a triumphant and thunderous anthem of victory!

 

Now, with nothing but a beautiful endless string of red lights stretching over the spine of the highway, i hummed the masterpiece which roared through the dark corners of that beautiful park.