In New York on Thanksgiving, you must wade.
Those of us who are adept at wading prosper, and shave precious minutes off our trips.
Those who cannot wade through the cars and pedestrians and trains are losing time. And what is life but a long stretch of time?
If you don’t wade, you’re just wasting your life.
What’s wading? Go to the ocean. Stand where the water is as deep as your chest. Face the sea and walk. That’s wading.
That’s what we do in New York, to go faster. Cars and people and traffic and trains replace the the sea.
We wade in the city, those of use who cannot afford surfboards or jet skis.
We don’t have cars. We’re never in taxis. We can barely afford the train. We wade as hard and as fast as we can, and we live longer than you. Because every five minutes you gain by struggling as hard as you can against New York is five more minutes you get to spend as you choose. Immortality is best achieved one step at a time.
Part one of x.