The other day I was at Grand Central, after like fifty-seven (ok, three, but it felt like way more) trips to Penn Station, and I was thinking about how I would describe Penn Station V Grand Central to non-New Yorkers. I was thinking about all of this while walking through a fucking gorgeous artisanal market IN THE TRAIN STATION that, upon entering it, literally prompted me to say out loud, “I love New York.” The doucheyness of this city has fully consumed me and I think I’m ok with it, artisanal train station markets and all.
ANYWAY, I spent a lot of time thinking about all the nuances that separate Grand Central from Penn that I could describe to a non-New Yorker, and I ended up with this –
You’re welcome,
Peace, love and the rosé I’m drinking right now,
BWCE
