On the Road from NYC

Traveling has become a chore.
There is no longer the charm and romance associated with flying to faraway places when you must partially disrobe and be subjected to all manner of inquiries to get into an airport.
Such is life in America in 2008.

I've been on the road to New York this week.
That's a misnomer, of course.
I didn't drive--I flew, and was driven around by cabbies when I got here.
That, too, is a unique experience.

The weather made the news in New York this week.
First snow storm of the Winter.
What wonderful timing.

What a difference a day makes in Manhattan.
One day is sunny and bight.
The next is a study in charcoal shades, accented by the blazes of Yellow Cabs hissing through the slushy streets.

On the way to the airport this morning, I tried to figure out what color New York is when it has snowed. The hues are impossible to define in chromatic terms, unless you attached a dirty adjective to each scene.

Dirty black asphalt.
Dirty brown-grey buildings.
Dirty white snowbanks...pure as the driven slush.

Yet even in its greyness, NYC holds all within its hypnotic trance.
Rumbling through the cold, murky streets on an early Saturday morning, the city still charms.
But I wouldn't want to live here.