"Once you leave New York you ain't going anywhere" the waiter told me with a fantastic New York accent. He poured proseccos for my friend and me. It was 3pm on Sunday. We had just arrived.
The high of arriving to New York City is like no other. I vibrated with excitement as Chelsea and I boarded the plane from Atlanta. A bus from La Guardia Airport dropped us off at the subway and we headed towards Manhattan. I couldn't stop singing Alicia Keys lyrics. The steam from the streets made me squeal.
This was my third trip to New York. I first went on a school field trip, taking a bus from South Carolina. The second time myself and a bunch of European friends drove up from Washington DC, where I lived at the time. It was 2009 and we only stayed for the weekend. This time Chelsea got a steal of a deal for two nights at the Hilton in exchange for her listening to a timeshare pitch she was never going to buy.
I've never stayed for long, but it always feels like you are in the most important place on earth. I sympathise with my waiter. My goal for this trip was to see cool museums, make fun Instagram content and get tipsy on some great rooftops - all of which we accomplished.
After the prosecco we made our way to Central Park for more bubbles and to people watch. We found a rooftop bar called Empire Hotel and flounced that way as the heat and the hubbub got to our heads. By our next round of champagne we had decided that we are definitely moving to New York City together. We can do this! Why have we never discussed this in the past? Diego our bartender took several photos of us and the New York skyline and told us all the good places to go.
We napped briefly and then headed out, meeting with one of Chelsea's friends. We ate amazing Mexican food and hit a funky cash-only bar called The Back Room Speakeasy where they served bubbles in teacups.
The next morning I headed back to Central Park for a more memorable investigation. It was heaving with joggers, cyclists, horse-drawn carriages, street vendors and tourists. I photographed the Bethesda Fountain and head back to midtown where Chelsea and I had a boozy brunch including my first French doughnut. Eight mimosas later we were down $US200 and it dawned on us that we probably couldn't have afforded a third night in the greatest city on earth. I strolled off to the Museum of Modern Art spotting Andy Warhol, Matisse, Georgia O'Keefe, Frida Kahlo, and heaps of Picasso.
Next stop was the Guggenheim, a stark contrast to MOMA. They had an awesome exhibition dedicated to poetry and language. The artist-in-residence is writer and poet Jenny Holzer. She has words in every form and around every curve of the iconic building. Donald Trump's tweets have been memorialised on the wall only to crumble into a trash heap. There are words of protest, words set in stone, words in lights. Never has it been better demonstrated, words are art!
After the Guggenheim closed, we hit the subway, and ended up at a swanky rooftop bar, Westlight, in Brooklyn. As soon as we get off the subway Chelsea said "oh my gosh I like this so much better."
Brooklyn is a vibe, and it's chill, very chill compared to Manhattan. We were in Williamsburg, and it went perfectly with my Mescal Julip in the late afternoon sun. We loved it so much that we found another rooftop, the Arlo Rooftop, even funkier than the first with a pool and lookout lounges. The charming bartender Rich made me an exquisite mescal margarita.
We were surrounded by every culture, language and skin color. The scent of marijuana wafted and people took glowing selfies.
It is Monday night in Brooklyn and this is the future of America I believe in. This is a reason to move to New York City.
