I reserve anything tourist-y, especially in my own city, for — one — the first time I actually visit a city and — two — when first-timer friends come to visit. Even so, they have a slight chance of being on their own… kidding. Ask any city native or long-time dweller. Time Square? Great-ish at first. Now? Avoid it even if it means a twenty minute detour up-and-around town. Statue of Liberty? Pretty incredible. Second time around? Got it. (However, I’ll confess — guilty as charged — I actually just visited it up close by boat a few weeks back for a video gig. And on that note, I don’t recommend a water taxi tour in winter unless absolutely necessary and, if so, thankfully there’s a full bar on board for hot toddies to warm up with and to potentially forget why you made the decision to hop onboard in the first place.) But there’s one more landmark I paid visit to for the first time in the almost six years — count it, six! — I’ve lived here: the Brooklyn Bridge. And this, guys, by exception, I’ll pay visit to again, and again, and again… at 7. Frickin’. A. M.
It’s quite spectacular — better yet, magical — to see the sun rise from such a perspective above the Brooklyn cityscape, amidst the steel cables and behind the early clouds. It’s practically empty at this hour with the exception of a few go-get-’em runners, financiers and photographers. I hear, and correct me/comment if I’m wrong, daytime bridge excursions are filled with people walking at minimal pace to BK on one side of the right lane and to the city on the other with cyclists whizzing, err “clipping”, past them on the left lane, leaving them with minimal room for selfies or any chance at a romantic moment (notice how I didn’t link the latter… I’m available! *girl raises hand emoji*).
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