The UN was in session last week.
For a couple of days, New Yorkers had to share their streets and air-space with presidents and dictators, diplomats and spies. I don't know how often Mahmoud Ahmadinejad drops in where you live, but if he has, you know what a pain it can be on a commuter schedule.
On Friday, I ended up wandering around Chelsea with my cousin Chris. I had meant to be somewhere else doing something else, but the city got in the way, so we rolled with it, sat down outside at the Standard grill, ordered a dozen oysters and a glorified pitcher of sangria and watched for quiet moments on a windy and warm Fall day.