Picture it. Thirty-something year old Florida girl (that would be me) comes bee-bopping out of NYC's LaGuardia Airport in the standard short skirt and sandals, only to be welcomed by everyone else dressed in long coats, scarves and gloves. Oops! Minor travel faux paux - I was so busy trying to get ready for the trip that I forgot to check the weather and just assumed, "it's May. Everywhere in the US is LOVELY this time of year." Guess I'll be going shopping tomorrow.
One of the aspects I love about New York are the people. There are not many other places in the world where you can have sweet nothings whispered in your ear by tall, dark, handsome and exotic (although, sometimes scary) men. Well, not exactly sweet nothings, but when I was here in January, it was "Gucci. Kate Spade. Coach." With my slight hearing problem, I quite didn't catch on and was about to belt one of the whisperers with my $9.99 Target purse, but I caught on that they wanted to sell me knock-off designer bags.
Today, it was "Town car. Limo. Taxi." Although I love sweet whispers and always up for an adventure, I was NOT up for an adventure in a gypsy cab. Instead, I stood in the cold line and caught a ride with Ramen Noodle - I mean, Ramen Mohamed. He whispered, too, but I realized he wasn't talking to me but on his cell phone. A little bit of advice I learned on the cab ride over tonight: When someone named Ramen or Mohamed sneezes, it's probably not wise to say, "god bless you."