NYC via Parisians and a Midwesterner

I met up in New York City with some cousins from Paris last weekend.  On a normal day, my brother who lives there would have served as our tour guide, but he was sick and it was up to Midwestern Me to show some Europeans around an unfamiliar town.

Things in NYC are just a wee bit different than life in the Midwest.  We sit down when we eat.  When we need to go the Apple store, we must look at their store hours beforehand.  (Did you know there is a 24-hour Apple Store in Manhattan?) Our pace is slower, there's a little more  breathing room, and we don't have to stand in line just to get inside a Whole Foods or Trader Joe's to pick up a few groceries.

The only non-Midwestern trait I carry is the fact that I don't drive.  Public transportation?  No problem.  Give me a map and a Carte Orange, a Ventra card, My My Metrocard and I can get any visitor to a new land around the high-speed underground (and above ground!) passageways which tremble beneath (or above!) any big city.  I might fumble a bit and I may get on an Express route without realizing a missed stop until I've gone too far and have to backtrack again, but once I've learned a new route it is permanently etched in my mind.  Except of course when there are construction reroutes.  But there are always construction reroutes in life, n'est-ce pas?

But I did it!  I succeeded for probably the tenth time in my life using my honed prairie skills navigating an unfamiliar land.

NYC is an amazing place.  Could I ever live there?  Possibly.  But every time I land back in my beloved O'Hare airport, flying over that big, beautiful freshwater lake, eyeballing that tiny city from a distance while watching it grow bigger and grander as the moments in flight go by...every time I come home to the Midwest, I feel like I can breathe comfortably again.

No matter where I find myself in my life journey, Chicago will remain my Midwestern Homeland Supremo.