New York, in a month from now, I’m coming back to you, because I realized, after a brief affair with Paris, that you are my true love:
Because while a fresh pain au chocolat is oh so delicious, there’s something about those Dunkin’ Donuts breakfast sandwiches that just hits the spot.
Because even if your subway stinks, and there are rats the size of cats down there, the trains rarely break down and the workers hardly ever go on strike.
Because I prefer my overpriced latte/peppermint mocha to go, so I can stroll along and pop in and browse in stores, versus sitting at a cafe for hours nursing a cup of overpriced coffee while pretending to write in my journal.
Because people-watching on any street in New York is infinitely more interesting than people-watching on any street in Paris, and while the Empire State Building may not sparkle like the Eiffel Tower, it changes colors for all the important holidays, and even the non-holidays, including my faves, Halloween and St. Patrick’s Day.
Because a rude New Yorker has nothing on a rude Parisian, and because the reality is, despite how cynical or jaded New Yorkers can be, they still have more heart and more joie de vivre than I’ve seen in the three and a half years I’ve lived here in Paris.
Because even at your worst, New York, you’re still the best.
A Prodigal Resident