Upper East Side

I am now an official Upper East Sider because I impulsively bought a fabulous pair of shoes at a local overpriced shoe store after having brunched on eggs benedict at Sarabeth's. I admit it is intoxicating to live the high life, if only for a couple hours each year.

When we finally reached Midtown, having hoofed forty blocks in my new shoes, I was annoyed at the crowds of tourists as if I weren't one myself. But then again, a flaneur isn't a tourist. A flaneur relishes in the small and simple because they have the luxury to walk past the traditional tourist traps. Today a woman was walking her dog across an intersection when the dog somehow wriggled out of its collar. The dog was as shocked as the owner at its escapist skills, but then didn't know what to do and froze. The owner grabbed one of its legs and together they hopped across the intersection. Maybe a tourist would see that too, but maybe they would be too busy looking for what they are slated to see (perhaps MOMA, The Plaza, or a hot dog stand.)

I love New York. I love to steal glances into second story brownstone apartments and imagine myself standing in the window in the mornings, watching the people rush to work and then again at night, watching them slowly return home. Maybe someday!

New York City - 405 Miles

Highway 80. It's tough to flaneur your way along America's Interstate system. I am often so insanely determined to reach my destination, I hesitate to exit at say Punxsutawney and go looking for Phil. Or maybe we could stop off in College Station. "We'll stop on the way home." But I doubt we will.

Nonetheless, as we left Pennsylvania and entered New Jersey, it was as if it were New York City already. Cars zoomed past the little Camry from Indiana, scoffing I'm sure at my close adherence to the 65 speed limit. Black suburbans with the cool white and blue New York plates weaved through traffic, equally determined to reach their destination. We were still 60 miles away from the city notorious for bad driving. Is this already considered the suburbs? I smiled and kept my eyes on the road.

Montclair, New Jersey, 14 hours from Bloomington, Indiana.