Widewalk

There are a few scenarios in which I feel like a real New Yorker. One of them is anything having to do with Times Square, and the other is the simple (or so you’d think) act of walking on the sidewalk. I was walking over to Cental Park for my walkjog today and was stopped in my tracks more than once by fellow pedestrians walking three people wide. And painfully slow. (why not?)

Now, I get that it’s a sunny summer day, and a feeling of lethargy is in the air, and I had I been in their shoes (those dreadful Tory Birch flats everyone and their mother here wears), I too might not have been in a hurry going nowhere. But I wasn’t. I was in my shoes (my old Nike’s that I refuse to give up), and that walk is my warm-up, so outta the way, people! (and by that, I mean, politely and silently excuse me as I scurry into the street to circumvent you.)

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