Mr. Sandman
I had all my excuses lined up and ready to roll when my sister’s voice came slicing through my brain. “ Get on the train and go! ” This was excellent advice and what’s really interesting about the situation was that my sister was nowhere near me at the time. No, her urgently encouraging comment rang through my head like an alarm bell after getting a whiff of the Grade A bullshit I was trying to tell myself. Last week it looked like I was heading for yet solitary Saturday, where I go to the gym, catch some sun in my local park before heading home for a night of take-out and Netflix. I was actually trying to tell myself that I couldn’t find anything interesting to do—in New York freaking City. Yeah, I know, that’s a majestic load of crapola that bears absolutely no resemblance to reality, but the comfort zone works in all sorts of sneaky ways. I dismissed this screaming falsehood, checked a website listing for events in the Big Apple, and I came up with a humdinger. It seeme...