A “moment” from each month I spent in NYC. Sometimes tasty, always tRuthful.
Month 22: February 2014
Sometimes being a Midwesterner in New York City can be dangerous. It’s February 13, and it’s snowing the hardest it’s snowed all year. My boss texted me this morning asking if I’d work tomorrow instead of today–it would be dead at the store despite it being a big holiday prep day. What does a Wisconsinite do when they find themselves with an unexpected day off? Trudge right into a blizzard for a good long walk, naturally. I feel great because my winter boots–hand-me-downs from my Mom and her mid-winter, Northern Minnesota galavants–are about ten times as effective as any other New Yorker’s boots. In fact several people call these my warrior boots. I don the proper layers though don’t go overboard because I know walking through snow is a sweat-inducing activity. I do wonderfully as I walk towards Manhattan from my apartment. People stop shoveling as I whiz past (winter tip number 1: do not shovel in the middle of a blizzard!), kids step aside and admire my long strides. I can’t help but put myself on a high pedestal, finally finding a niche that perhaps I am more skilled in than 99 percent of everyone else in this city: winter survival. It’s not every day that you’re the best at something in a city this size.
But my downward spiral is rapid. The hike across the Queensboro Bridge is wicked–my checks are blown red and raw in seconds and my fingertips practically disappear. I pass one other footed commuter in the middle of the bridge, who manages a half-frozen smile that clearly says “well at least I’m glad I’m not the only one silly enough to make this mistake.” Soon: land, Manhattan, less windy grounds. Starbucks. “Tea, large,” I order. My numb hands quiver as I hand over the two dollars. Mother Nature, I concede.