Spring has come and gone. The days of Summer are finally upon us. And that all too familiar feeling has crept into our bones: an overwhelming desire to be outdoors or, perhaps, just anywhere else on God’s green earth other than an office prison. Even businesses get it. They’ve increasingly come to accept the inevitable. Employees are going to become restless and unfocused. Productivity is going to slide. So why fight it? Someone–clearly a genius–decided the best use of that time was as a way of boosting morale. And that thinking is exactly what lead to the adult world finally being permitted to do the unthinkable: take recess. They called it Summer Fridays.
So now that the playground is open a little earlier than usual, the question is: what should you do with your head start? We recently wrote about why you should visit Asbury Park, New Jersey. And certainly that’s a great option to kick off your Summer Fridays. But it was only the first post in our summer series outlining day trips in close proximity to New York City. This post is a continuation of that series and offers yet another option to fill your newly extended weekends: Storm King Art Center.
Continue reading Rain or Shine: Why Storm King Art Center Should Make Your Summer Hit List
Every once in awhile, Conde Nast Traveler or some other travel magazine will publish an article on “How To Not Look Like a Tourist”. And without fail, it leads to a spirited discussion in the comments section and on social media. It’s not difficult to understand this ambivalence towards tourists. New York City received approximately 58 million visitors last year, and locals simply have to accept that it’s a part of city life. Yes, you’ll encounter those five tourists who decide to walk side-by-side and take up an entire sidewalk. But 2014 statistics show that visitors generated a record $61.3 billion in overall economic impact, supporting 359,000 tourism related jobs and $21 billion in wages. Continue reading Tourist for a Day: A Visit to Battery Park
You weave through the throngs of people, the red, blinking hand taunting you in the distance. When you finally make it to the street corner, the red hand is stationary and the cabs are leaping out of their lanes towards you. You jump back onto the sidewalk to safety, barely avoiding the murky puddle at your feet, when some unidentifiable cloud of smoke wafts up from the sewer grate and hits you in the face. Maybe it’s time for a getaway. Continue reading Manhattan Adirondacks