I intended to do some actual background before posting about my New York trips–the first time I’m nearly positive we stayed at the Salisbury, which had a breakfast in something like a cafeteria but better because 1) New York and 2) it wasn’t on the first or second floor. I remember it being somewhere higher, which was cool. When I was a kid, I wanted buildings to be tall. Because otherwise King Kong couldn’t climb them and Godzilla wouldn’t really be walking past them, just above them. I’ve always been this cool. But I also remember this store we’d go to for tourist knicknacks. It was down the street and around the corner from the hotel. It was probably grossly overpriced; we went maybe two or three times, once during a torrential downpour. All the cars had their headlights on, the sidewalks were slick with rain, it looked just like New York was supposed to look only better because it was real. New York is infinitely big and infinitely small in my memories, even the ones I have from trips when I was older. There is always something to focus on so the rest doesn’t drown it out. I don’t know what we got in the store. An umbrella would’ve been appropriate.