Where Everybody Knows Your Name
On my way to work today the fruit vendor on my street waved as I rounded the corner and handed me the freshest red apple he had, which he sets aside every morning for me. I smiled as he handed me the apple and gave him my usual ‘next door neighbor’ rated discount.
During lunch today, my favorite deli saw me enter and immediately went to work on my usual turkey salad sandwich.
During my usual 3:00 break, I went to the Starbucks directly below my office and had to stop the barista from making my usual grande iced caramel macchiato with soy milk and tell them I’ve switched gears in light of the Autumn Pumpkin Spice Latte season.
On my way home, I stopped by my local Duane Reade and the cashier that checked me out knew me by my first name and asked me if my volleyball season had started yet.
The cherry on top of my day: walking in my building being greeted by my favorite doorman that always tries to tell me a joke. His accent is far too strong to understand the punchline, but each time I laugh anyway because he’s far too kind.
Some may find this kind of monotony rather boring. Me? This routine makes me feel more and more at home. Who ever said New York didn’t have hospitality?
[...] I can already tell this is home. Though I enjoyed HK a lot, I am so excited about Murray Hill. I’m just going to have to find a new fruit vendor, and since I no longer have a doorman, IR… Check out my ‘hood [...]
From Hell’s Kitchen to Murray Hill « NYC Bound said this on December 12, 2009 at 5:03 pm |