The city seen from the Queensboro Bridge is always the city seen for the first time, in its first wild promise of all the mystery and beauty in the world.
--F. Scott Fitzgerald
Why do I do this to myself? I lived in New York City four years ago. Isn't that enough time to move on and make a life for myself without the temptation of my former love? Can't I just live in Chicago and never again think of The City That Never Sleeps?! And now here I am, torturing myself by flying out to spend eight days in NYC. I mean, really?! What in the world is wrong with me? Clearly I am somewhat of a masochist.
I sit here in my apartment, looking at pictures of New York, reading up on the newest hot restaurants and coffee shops to visit, wracking my brain trying to figure out what I need to pack. Instead of just going and enjoying my time there, I have to make sure that everything is perfect. That everything is set and ready to go. I cannot miss a certain thing in fear that it will ruin my trip.
I don't need much for my business purposes - a notebook, a suit and tie. Most of the days next week will be inside the Gansevoort Hotel listening to talks and presentations. But what about the other four days? How will I decide what to bring?
Okay...this is all a little melodramatic, I understand. But I love New York City. The last time I came back to Chicago, my best friend was sincerely worried that I was going to pack up and go back to New York forever. I am not saying that is going to happen, but I can't deny that I am hopelessly and irrevocably in love with that city. I do and always will love New York City.