Federal Donuts and Abe Fisher
David, 09
Dec
 Before getting ready to
fly back to France after the recent holiday, friends invited me to
join them on a trip to Havana. I couldn’t make it, but the next best thing
is taking the bus to Philadelphia, I’m also juggling urgings to go to Los
Angeles, New Caledonia, Mexico City, Vietnam, Honolulu, Miami, Florence,
Oaxaca, Bulgaria, Lyon, Chicago, Chiang Mai, Sicily, Toronto, and to a
house in the countryside near Barcelona that has a pool – I want to go
everywhere, but who will write my blog, and my book? Not to mention tackled
the backlog of l’administration?
I think Romain was itching to
go back. It was pretty challenging explaining this whole “Fahrenheit”
thing, as well as why a football player is reading the news, and how
come brisket doesn’t exist in France.
 Until those questions get
answered, I took a brief, overnight trip to Philadelphia. And while the
above destinations suggest that I might be leading some jet-set
life-style, you’ll be happy to know that I found myself on a very cold
Saturday morning, standing in a line on the sidewalk by the Hudson Yards
construction site, on the the edge of Manhattan, waiting for a bus. The
pictures of the bus interior that I saw online beforehand were like those
real estate photos taken with wide-angle lenses: I’m not super-wide, and neither
were the seats on the bus. Still, it had electrical outlets, the an
occasional tease of Wi-Fi, and a restroom. Which the driver asked me if I
could replace the toilet paper in, handing me a roll when I passed her on
my way to it.
|
No comments:
Post a Comment