**The Manhattan Chronicles**

The man sitting across from me in the terminal is talking. Loudly. About a crisis. I’m like emotional tofu- I absorb the emotions of those around me, and his stress is slowly seeping into my psyche. I just put my iPod in my ears. Maybe it will leave… of course, the sequence of events that I just went through were stressful, so I didn’t need much more to make me want to snap.

This morning was lovely. I was drowsy, but I ambled my way down 6th Avenue to find Magnolia Bakery, my new favorite New York spot. Apparently it’s famous, I just happened to stumble across the name in my browsing for “Things to see in Manhattan.” But this little pocket of heaven on 6th and 49th would be enough to make even the grumpiest person smile on a summer morning. The interior looks as though it has not been touched since 1950, the décor is tiny tiles and dainty pastels- asif it were your grandmother’s kitchen freshly scrubbed with Clorox, for the entire place is spotlessly clean. I ordered a decidedly fat-filled mocha latte and a mini chocolate swirl cheesecake. They packaged both in clean white cardboard, and my dear little cheesecake was in a delightfully marked, dainty box. I fell in love.

Cradling my coffee in one hand and my newly purchased box of heaven in the other, I trotted back down 6th to Bryant Park where I wrote, prayed and nibbled. I believe I’m a Bryant Park junky. It’s so petite, so movie-esque and feels safer than Central Park. I believe, that should I live conveniently located in the city, it would become a tradition.

After my leisurely morning, I was in need of a nap. I have been sleeping about 3 to 5 hours a night, walking and running all day. I knew that with my flight schedule tonight I would need to drive until the wee hours of the morning in order to make it home. So I took a nap. I love napping. I wish I could nap every day…

When I woke up, I ventured out once again. I hate doing “touristy” things. I like to blend in and look like a native. But I’ve never been to the top of Empire State Building, and considering that I’ve been to NYC repeatedly, this is really inexcusable. Besides, I heard the view is incredible. I love incredible views. To make my venture to the top a little less touristy, I decided first to find a delectable frozen yogurt spot called “Pinkberry.” Let’s just say, smuggling creamy pomegranate frozen yogurt to the top of the highest building in New York, and eating it while looking at historic landmarks is amazing. Which is good because being herded like cattle on and off elevators, being surrounded by foreign men who have no concept of personal space, and being subject to grossly over-priced tickets is hardly enjoyable. The experience was good because a) the structural feat of this building is phenomenal, b) all the limestone is from Indiana (represent! Whoo!), and c) I can now say that I’ve done it.

I then packed up, said goodbye to my delightful friend Elisha who was good enough to house me, and sallied forth. I navigated the subways and the bus successfully. I was the only white female on the bus. The looks I got were enough to make anyone anxiously chuckle. I didn’t believe that segregation still existed until I visited those parts of NYC. I got lost at the terminal, which is quite large and kept running, trying to find my ticket counter almost missed my flight, but it was delayed, and then again, and then again. And am now currently waiting in the terminal with a random bunch of disgruntled business men. Once again, I appear to be the only white female…

I’m definitely going to need to acquire some caffeine in Chicago..

**After hours of delays, lost luggage, dashing through airports, and a debate with a Mormon on the final flight, I finally landed in Indianapolis around 1:10 a.m. It's now 3:10 a.m., and yes, I just got home. Exhausted... my Manhattan adventure is officially over.**