The No Subway Weekend
I have a love-hate relationship with the New York subway system. On one hand, I do love how it allows me to reach numerous pockets of the city with just a swipe of a subway card. But on the other hand, it has the potential to hand me the most cringe-worthy moments of the day, whether its witnessing the vermin ducking through tracks or coming upon highly suspect smears of foul-looking substances on its surfaces.
Last weekend, I gave myself the gift of a break from the (figurative and, unfortunately at times, also literal) subway rat race. It was a small adjustment that made my weekend that much better. Instead of slogging to Chinatown on the F, I walked over on the Manhattan Bridge—a method of "transportation" that got me there in the same amount of time but with far more gorgeous views and extra calories burned, to boot (which translates to more soup dumplings guiltlessly consumed—definite win!).
Last weekend, I gave myself the gift of a break from the (figurative and, unfortunately at times, also literal) subway rat race. It was a small adjustment that made my weekend that much better. Instead of slogging to Chinatown on the F, I walked over on the Manhattan Bridge—a method of "transportation" that got me there in the same amount of time but with far more gorgeous views and extra calories burned, to boot (which translates to more soup dumplings guiltlessly consumed—definite win!).
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