I Heart U, NYC

... I really do, and yet, I'm so happy to be back in Sherman Oaks, especially after the way you mistreated me on our last day together.  I get it.  You were upset I was leaving.  You wanted me to stay longer and deal with your hectic streets, your scaffolding, your sidewalk smokers, your soggy weather.  You're such a tease, NYC.  You make me think you're done raining.  Then you rain again just to eff with me.  And speaking of resentment, NYC, can we talk  about that lunatic car ride to JFK?  Hubby and I barely made to the airport alive, not to mention, on time to catch our flight -- only to sit on the runway for an hour-and-a-half.  The majority of the ride, we crawled through Queens at two miles an hour.  The driver kept telling us not to worry, we'd get there.  Telling two Jews in the backseat not to worry is an invitation to worry even more.  Initially, the ride was kind of fun.  "That store is called Salt and Fat."  "That gentleman's club is called Wiggles."  To pass the time, we debated which would be the dream job for the SJG.  I tried out various resume possibilities.  "I worked at Salt and Fat in Queens. I got too bloated.  It wasn't a good fit."  "I worked at Wiggles in Queens.  I got fired for wiggling too much in the wrong place."  The fun gave way to a rapidly-building sense of doom.  We're completely effed here.  We're going to miss our flight.  We'll never make in out of Queens.  That job at Wiggles has my name on it.  "Now appearing nightly at Wiggles:  The SJG!"  The driver stopped telling us not to worry -- it might have been our frantic efforts to book another flight -- and transferring blame elsewhere.  "It's not my fault." Whose fault was it, then?  As our boarding time approached, the driver switched gears, transforming himself into an action hero.  We were flying through Queens at 80 mph, dodging parked cars.  It was a chase scene.  I laughed hysterically and clung to hubby and wrote my own epitaph.  "She blogged, and then, she bought it in Queens."  But here I am, and there you are, NYC.  It's all good.  I forgive you, you big lunk.  But I'm taking a break.  I need a city that goes to bed early, a deli that knows how to make a tuna melt.  Nothing personal, but I'm back where I belong.