Talking to a guy yesterday, a real New Yorker. I told him that I actually feel safe alone in New York. I am always aware, but not afraid. I expressed that I have been more afraid in Alabama at different times. He replied with, “Yeah, here in New York. Somebody may knock you down and maybe….say…uh….take your purse, but they aren’t gonna kill ya. They just gonna knock you down and run. Those other places they got plenty of room to hide and kill ya.” Y’all don’t worry about me. I don’t carry a purse here. I have a backpack.
This is a link to my blog, Coffee and Kafka. I write about my sobriety and my journey. Every alcoholic is the same, but we have a different story.
I never thought about it before, but the food vendors must get around too.
Today I wandered into a wonderful place of healing in Brooklyn, Maha Rose. I met a sweet girl named Morgan Murray. Upon hearing my accent and learning I hailed from Alabama, she expressed her love of the Drive-By Truckers and Billy Reid clothing. She left L.A. as a designer and took a cross-country trip to Florence, AL where she considered settling down, but her path wound up taking her to NY and she works at Maha Rose. She was bright spot and a welcome spirit for me today! I’m continuing to connect to wonderful people.
Sleeping on a train when not in a sleeping car is similar to spending the night in a roomy hospital recliner. But, for the price it is worth it. I am fascinated by each small town with its small depot welcoming us even if we just skim by. It makes me feel like I’m part of something quaint for a moment as I head on to the bustle of the city.