I stepped off the bus at around 10:45 on the morning of the twenty-second, and I found myself surrounded by countless flashing lights, giant oversized billboards displaying mostly-naked teenagers, and what felt like millions of people. Times Square, New York. My godparents and I walked down a side street and into a diner, which felt smaller than my college room at Millennium Hall. Our mission for the day was simple: eat Manhattan. I was served a western omlette, possibly the best I ever had, by the giant eastern European guy who had taken my order.
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