The first week of my stay in New York was pretty exciting. A block away from where I was working in Manhattan, a man attacked a police officer with a meat cleaver and was subsequently shot multiple times. Shortly thereafter a bomb exploded just steps from where I was buying beer the night before. This all took place blocks from where I was staying in Chelsea.
I had already decided to move out to Brooklyn for the remainder of my stay before the pipe bombs went off injuring 29 people. The event did, however, reinforce my gut feeling to get out of the expenses of downtown Manhattan and take in a different side of the city. Staying in Brooklyn was great. It gave me an opportunity to get out and explore the neighborhoods in that area. It also introduced a subway commute into my daily routine.
Subways rule. They are easy, fast, and eliminate the impossible task of navigating unspeakable traffic and parking scenarios in urban centers. That said, many claustrophobic hours of my stay were spent buried beneath steel and concrete, pressed up against strangers in the awkward confines of a metallic wheeled centipede scurrying through dirty catacombs below the concrete mass of the city.