From the moment my plane landed, it was clear that I wasn’t in “Kansas” anymore. Everyone around me bolted up, trying their best to squeeze into the tiny airplane aisle and rush off of the plane before people in the aisles ahead of them. Mind you, this is at La Guardia–not JFK, the oversized mega-airport where it is conceivable that people could actually have connecting flights to hurry to. Our flight was 15 minutes ahead of time, and we were at tiny La Guardia, yet people were rushing off of the plane.
Where were these people rushing to? Why couldn’t they just politely wait their turn to exit the plane? These are questions that remain unanswered. But one thing is clear. In my oversized suitcase, there is something that I packed that I could have left in Los Angeles, or even Louisiana at that–my manners.
But I have a feeling that New Yorkers aren’t as intimidating as they appear. I think that once I get in the groove of the city, I’ll understand everything a little better.
I went to FCBC church in Harlem. I thoroughly enjoyed the church service, but got there late and had to sit in the balcony area. There were about 300 European tourists at the top of the balcony. Apparently my church is a stop on a “Harelm Gospel Tour.” They were taking pictures, as tourists often do. I wanted to take a picture of them taking pictures! It was a bit distracting, but I’ll make sure I’m on time next Sunday and can sit on the lower level!
After church, we headed to Sarabeth’s for brunch. The line was long (about 50 minutes), and I’m not sure if it was worth the wait. The portions were small and pricy. I enjoyed the lemon and ricotta pancakes with fresh berries. The only problem was that the 3 pancakes were rather small and not at all filling.
Our day ended at the Met. We stumbled upon a Picasso exhibit. It happened to be the last day of the exhibit. The exhibit was packed with people, standing shoulder to shoulder. But it was SO worth it. It was one of the most insightful art exhibits I have ever seen. I felt like I had an intimate experience with Pablo himself, and he shared the pains and pleasures of his life through his art.
I get it now. I get why people love this city. It’s full of the uncanny and bizarre, yet along with that comes passion and excitement! How many cities can you “stumble” upon a Picasso exhibit after your Sunday brunch…?