925 Words. 4 Minute Read

I’ve met poets, playwrights, media personalities, bankers, architects, lawyers, journalists, haberdashers, professors, nonprofit directors, academics, actors, musicians, ministers, restaurateurs, anarchists, Marxists, and a variety of intellectuals and entrepreneurs. 45 days in the greatest city in the world. And I am exhausted. The Big Apple got its pound of flesh. How arrogant to believe I would be the exception to the rule.

1,271 Words. 5 Minute Read.

I’ve also heard rumors of a cloth satchel that holds the actual seeds of Cuba’s most valuable export. This national treasure is locked behind a ten-ton steel door at the base of a mountain, guarded around the clock by illiterate mercenaries in flip-flops and track shorts. Inside the satchel is the byproduct of years of crossbreeding scientifically engineered variations of the leafy seed of God.

631 Words. 2 Minute Read.

For starters, there’s a sign hanging on the front door that says, “No Laptops.” And that, I love - no hipsters, no terribly dressed tech nerds with obnoxious Apple products protruding from their ears, and no post-millennials trying to change the world from the comfort of the Upper East Side; just tiny tables and French music – it’s a beautiful thing.

931 Words. 4 Minute Read.

I recently joined the New York Lawn Bowling Club. I’m living in Manhattan for the summer and wanted an outdoor sport that required as little physical exertion as possible. And since there isn’t a club dedicated to smoking cigars in the shade, lawn bowling had to do.