Two Worlds Apart

I just completed a spur-of-the-moment week-long trip home to see my family.

Following the developments of last week, that’s where I needed to be.

And boy did I pick a good time to go.

Halloween.

I got plenty of hugs... and kisses... and Hershey Kisses... and Reese’s.

Lots of Reese’s.

My son must’ve collected at least 50 of the yummy peanut butter cups during his trick or treating.

Seriously.  At least 50.

So many Reese’s that it reminded me of the old commercial where the guy with the peanut runs into the girl with the chocolate.

Two great tastes in one candy bar.

It took my daughter about one second to find those commercials on youtube.

How did we ever live without youtube?

Well, the trip was incredible.

I was able to bring lunch to school for my kids.

And see choir practice.

And basketball practice.

And dance practice.

And we were able to practice being a family again.

My not-so-secret double life in New York City felt like a thousand miles away.

Actually, it was two thousand.

But it might as well have been a million.

Don’t get me wrong, I love... loved New York.

I loved pretty much every thing about it.

I even loved the people.

I wouldn’t say that I am an expert on analyzing New Yorkers, but over the last few months, I accumulated a pretty good sample to form an opinion.

Loyal.  Check.

Genuine.  Check.

Real.  Double check.

Cold.  Can be.

Like the Coolatta at Dunkin’ Donuts.

But you pretty much know where you stand.

I get the feeling that many people in New York don’t realize that there is another world outside of New York.

And when you are here, it’s pretty easy to believe that.

When I got back home to life with the family, I fell right back into my four-corner offense, taking things one moment at a time.

As soon as I got off the plane yesterday at LaGuardia, it was right back into the two-minute drill.

Or the New York Minute drill.

The noise, the pace, the excitement.

Nothing like it.

It took me about three New York blocks, even with it raining, to realize that this is where I want... wanted to be.

Of course, I don’t have a job in New York.

Anymore.

And not to mention that I don’t think that $1.049 million, one-bedroom, two-bathroom unit with 760 square feet in the West Village that I saw listed in the New York Post yesterday would be a good way to raise a family.

Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love where my family currently resides, but this is New York!

The Big Apple.

Gotham.

The Melting Pot.

The City that Never Sleeps.

Pick your nickname.

Even after being away for seven days, seven FANTASTIC days, Manhattan felt like home as soon as I got back.

As I write this note from the place where I will be spending the rest of the month, tying up loose ends, I can literally hear a series of sirens going off.

Wow, what a beautiful sound.

Don’t get me wrong, I loved... love where our home is too.

The people are great, the life is great, it is a perfect place to call home.

I went to go work out at the local gym there a few days ago.

As I walked to my car in the parking lot, the car next to me started backing up and probably came about ten feet away from hitting me.

At least ten feet.

Not exactly a dangerous situation.

But if was enough of a situation in my town where the driver of the other car felt obligated to stop.

Felt obligated to roll down his window.

Felt obligated to... apologize.

Apologize?

For going backwards at one mile per hour and not coming close to hitting me?

He’ll never make it in New York.

On Halloween night, we walked the kids through our local neighborhood taking candy from strangers.

I think that’s page 16 of the parent handbook.

We stopped at one house I had never been to before.

I didn’t know the people, but it was Halloween, so we stopped.

When we got there, they gave the kids candy... AND... they gave the adults Vodka Jello Shots.

Amen!

I gladly accepted it... and enjoyed it... without any hesitation.

Hey kids, don’t ever accept Vodka Jello Shots from a stranger!!!

Stupid on my part?

Perhaps.

But it was good.

And this was small town America, what could possibly go wrong?  

If you listen real closely, you can hear John Mellencamp playing in the background.

Now come on, would I have accepted a Vodka Jello Shot from a stranger in New York?

On the corner of 26th Street and 5th Avenue?

I don’t think so.

Addendum:   So my friend Phil is visiting me this weekend from LA.   I met him at Grand Central Station and we walked down Park Avenue.   

When we got to the corner of 33rd and Park, there were two men standing outside of a dark Pret A Manger Restaurant, which had just closed.   

One of the guys was holding a box filled with fresh cut fruit cups.   He said he was going to throw them away and asked if we wanted them.   

Yada yada yada.  

We now have breakfast.

So much for that theory.