It’s been a week of much excitement and little rest.
Wednesday night, I and some friends went to see The Police play at Madison Square Garden (Section 55, Row J, thank you very much). I could go on and on about how incredible they sounded, or how utterly hot Sting still is, or how hot Sting’s son — who just happens to be my age — is turning out to be, or how OMFG-awesome the entire evening was, but I’ll spare you, lest you attack me in a fit of jealous rage.
The next night, despite severe fatigue, I joined my colleagues for a going-away party at a karaoke place on the east side. Songs were sung, beers were drunk (and spilled), sleep was not caught up on. Despite being exhausted nearly to the point of tears, I’m glad I hung in there for the occasion.
And then we had today. I just returned from cheering on the runners in the New York City Marathon. Simon’s Auntie Virginia just happens to live at roughly the halfway point in Queens, so we yelled our words of encouragement from both her fabulous rooftop and from the street. It’s really something else to be that close to the runners as they fight their way past the 13-mile mark. Old people, young people, people in wheelchairs, people running for various causes, people running in costumes (the most unusual one I saw was a lighthouse) — it was a sight to behold, and it’s definitely one of those New York experiences I know I’ll never forget.
Oh, and by the way? I have a new girl crush.