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!