Thursday, June 30, 2011

An open love letter to Lake Placid

Dear Lake Placid or Misty,

Can I call you Misty? I think I shall. Where do I begin, Misty? I think I shall begin at the top. (Get it, hills, top, mountains... geez I kill myself)

As you well know before the wonderful weekend, that I was a sophisticated traveller who had experienced many different cafes and cities. I have been smooshed into trains in Delhi, I have been chased by ruffians in London, I have cried on the side of mountains, and I have laughed on the shores of oceans. But during all of those trips, I had never travelled to the 'Land of the Free' (Miami airport notwithstanding).

What I thought was that everyone in your part of the world hated cyclists? Turns out that you had a cycle lane from the border of your country to the heart of your city. You know what Misty, that means that you have a cycle path into my heart.

Your mountains, your marathons, your bike routes, your beautiful people and your roadies, they all conspired to steal my affections away from my true love, Londres (Fear not London, I am still yours, and soon I shall be in you).

I think both of us agree that this weekend while less than perfect (your rains, Misty. They need to not happen when we meet), was wonderful. Brief though this visit was, it was full of passion. I shall be coming back to you soon, Misty. So just make sure that the coffee is brewing, and the rain stays away. This time, I promise you, I shall be there longer.

Love,

@Damookman.

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