What do you do when New York touches your life...

I did not go about wearing the I Heart NY T-shirt. But I very nearly was tempted to. This was probably my...second...third?...trip to NY...and I never took it in the way I did this time...with wide staring wondering eyes...the surge of humanity...in all their colors and diversity...and Boston suddenly felt puny, provincial...I can only reproduce the quote in a subway train I found from E.B.White on New York [courtesy Barnes & Noble]:

There are roughly three New Yorks. There is, first, the New York of the man or woman who was born there, who takes the city for granted and accepts its size, its turbulence as natural and inevitable. Second, there is the New York of the commuter--the city that is devoured by locusts each day and spat out each night. Third, there is New York of the person who was born somewhere else and came to New York in quest of something. Of these trembling cities the greatest is the last--the city of final destination, the city that is a goal. It is this third city that accounts for New York’s high strung disposition, its poetical deportment, its dedication to the arts, and its incomparable achievements. Commuters give the city its tidal restlessness, natives give it solidity and continuity, but the settlers give it passion.