My best friend Claire, who lives in Virginia, drove up with her husband Will, and son Jackson. Jackson is my Godson and he is the cutest boy I’ve ever met. I went to meet them in Williamsburg, which reminded me of Fitzroy.
Claire and I never get to hang out, we are always in opposite countries, and often in opposite hemispheres. There are very few people in my life that don’t require social energy to be around, and Claire is one of them. Except for the fact that I can’t swear if Jackson is in the room, I can fully relax. This is the same for best friends as it is for total strangers, so Claire & Co. are probably the only real-life people I’d want to meet on an escape holiday.
I caught a pic of Jackson sitting on an NYC stoop, looking like an adorable hobo.
Then we had an amazing pizza and got ice cream.
When I got home, Amanda offered to let me stay in her apartment while she cat sits in Harlem, fully supporting the notion that opportunities present themselves if you take risks and get on planes.
The true New Yorker secretly believes that people living anywhere else have to be, in some sense, kidding.