After my Euro adventures of 2006 this feeling only escalated. "I want to be a globe trotter," I thought. What better way to start with my own country?
Tomorrow morning (!!) I will be on a plane headed for NYC. Due to some sweet hookups and amazing friends I'll shack up in West Village, enjoy the beauty of Wicked on Broadway, and sit eight rows from a stage accompanied by Ms. Meryl Streep. Fo' Free! I will also be able to check a couple items off my bucket list after I pretend that I'm Kevin McAllister in Central Park, associate every library with Ghostbusters and scream wildly in the Today Show's crowd. These are stories I will share with my inevitable offspring.
It's obvious that I am ecastic. But in a city as fast-paced as NYC (although I do reside in Chicago) I must take simple moments to breathe. I plan on bringing my small American flag, a souvenir from 2009's All Star Game in St. Louis, to drop off at the site of the fallen towers. It's a symbol of two spectacular moments in my life, on totally opposite spectrums. I may take a second, or one hundred, to smile at the green lady whom greeted my great-great-grandparents to their future home.
New York City in 2010 is my Walt Disney World of 1990 and I am so ready to play. (Besides, thin crust pizza is so much better!)
Why does it not surprise me that a parent who would raise their child as a Cubs fan would also let this picture happen?
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