COFFEE & NEW YORK

I drink about three cups of coffee a week. That's it. Really. 

I love the smell of coffee, but too often the taste is hit or miss for me. I love the coffee that the little truck by my office in the Financial District serves though. It's great (with a hint, for whatever reason, of chocolate and almonds), and the truck guy is very friendly, though I don't know his name and I can't really hear him over the din of the intersection noise where his truck is placed.

Anyway, this morning I got my coffee served in this cup. I hadn't seen this cup in years, though a to-scale ceramic version exists in some gift shops here in New York.

The cup reminded me of the very city I was standing in. It was a little surreal for me. It reminded me of the years (about nine) that I've lived here. It reminded me that even through terror alerts, power blackouts, financial beatdowns, bomb threats, subway strikes, crazy cab drivers, emergency landings, endless construction, gentrification, bankrupted restaurants, rising costs, blizzards, heat waves, the Trumps, the Madoffs and the Real Housewives, the city continues to endure.

Love it or hate it or both, New York City is here for you. It's like that weird funny friend who stands outside your window, the friend your parents swear is a bad influence, waiting for you to come outside and play.