The family-crisis hurricane that was raging when last I posted seems to have diminished to a light drizzle for the moment, and thank you to everyone who sent well wishes and good thoughts and shiny happy people holding hands … or whatever. I appreciate it.
Meanwhile … on Saturday, Wonder Woman was giving a presentation at a conference in New York City, because she’s kick-ass like that. What she’s not kick-ass at, however, is navigating New York City solo. Thus, I cruised up with her, as I love me some NYC, and I hadn’t been there in an embarrassingly long time.
After dropping her off at her presentation, I parked in a Midtown garage and proceeded to walk around Manhattan in the sweltering summer heat for hours upon hours. So much did I walk, in fact, that, by the time I reconnected with Wonder Woman mid-afternoon, I was in almost as bad a shape as that time she and I hiked into, and out of, the Grand Canyon.
The night before heading into the Big Apple, I asked my Twitter followers for some suggestions about what to do, and the overwhelming response I received from that one guy included a recommendation to visit Grand Central Station, which I somehow managed to never have entered during any of my previous visits to Gotham.
Which brings us, at agonizingly long last, to the photo above … which I readily admit I framed quite poorly … but what you can’t see is that I am standing on a landing identical to the one directly across from me in this shot … and if you look at that landing, you’ll see a few people standing there taking pictures … and if you were to look at their pictures, you’d see that the landing on which I’m stationed is overcrowded with about five times as many photographers … so the vantage point you see is the best I could manage under the circumstances … which is disturbing, because, given what a big fucking deal I am, you’d think people would part like the Red Sea in order to accommodate me. I guess they didn’t get the memo.