One of the several million things I so totally adore about New York is the concept of “your block”. One’s block contains almost everything one needs. One being me. It makes it easy to not venture out of one’s zipcode. It has a 24-hr grocery store at a stone’s throw; a weirdly-cool bar that has live music every week, one that pours a proper-Guinness (it’s hard to find around here!) and is right below your apartment; two 24-hr delis; a pharmacy; a stationary store; a pizza place that also sells fresh pizza dough; green dry-cleaning (not that I need much of it); a wine shop; several kinds of restaurants and if you are lucky, your department just across the road. You get the drift, I think.
Very few cities in this world afford you this much convenience. Is there any place other than New York with 24-hour public transportation?
Anyhow, what I want to talk briefly about is the joy of having a bar downstairs. You know the kind that takes two minutes to reach? Where the bartenders recognize you? Where you can go read a book during early evenings and listen to live music while it’s raining? Where you can have your 30th birthday party transformed into a friendly dance party because everyone else in the restaurant, including the band, is from your department? And the kind that takes two minutes to get back home from, walking, in heels?
If you don’t, you really need to move here! ASAP!
It’s late, I know! I’ll be up early tomorrow :-).