Living in Manhattan, acting D.U.M.B.O

In my family, we call the love/hate of our Manhattan lifestyles, ebbing and flowing. Like, 'are you ebbing or flowing today and do you currently want to kill yourself or go lay out in the park?' I think, unless you live here, you may think I'm a lunatic, but it's true. One day, you're on cloud nine, all, 'I LOVE MY LIFE AND MANHATTAN IS MY DREAM AND I'D DIE WITHOUT IT.' Cut to 4 minutes later and it's, 'IM GOING TO HURL MYSELF INTO 6th avenue TRAFFIC. TODAY'S THE DAY THIS CITY FUCKING KILLS ME.'

In an attempt to avoid my demise, both this weekend and last, I've escaped to D.U.M.B.O (Down Under the Manhattan Bridge Overpass, as the locals do not, nor anyone else, like to call it) and quite enjoyed myself. You take the F train from the Upper East Side (barf) for approximately 47 hours and you get off at York Street. Upon your exit from the underground homeless bathroom/aids factory subway, head down Water St. and enjoy the food truck festival, Brooklyn Bridge Park, and a general state of being where you don't want to commit mass homicide. It looks a little something like this.

Really happy to be getting the 'F' (pun) outta Manhattan

Brooklyn Bridge Park, home to every engagement picture, ever. Except ours, because we're better than other couples.

Just enjoying eating my weight in food that is cooked in a truck

John enjoying his repulsive sandwich. There was 7 cows worth of brisket between 2 pieces of  cow juice soaked bread.

My brother, Sean (Oakley does not sponsor this blog. They damn well should though) and a lovely couple surveying the blanket/wind situation.

The hideous view from an apartment we looked at on Jay Street. Really, it's offensive.

Back in the city, but happy, because I have a gallon of vodka in that mason jar.

Until next weekend, D.U.M.B.O

I'm going to make a list of reasons I love living in Manhattan and report back soon. Sometimes, in any relationship (whether with a person, a city, a job, a friendship), you have to reignite the spark. I'm going to start courting NYC pretty hard. Here's to getting lucky, friends.