The last time I was in New York City my plane touched down at midnight and I did not get off the plane until 4:45. I could tell twenty different stories about what a nightmare it was, but I'll only share a couple things. It was the middle of August and the plane got noticeably hotter as the hours went by. At one point the flight attendant said "We are out of water and the toilets are at 100% capacity. If you have to go we can't stop you, but just be aware of this." And nobody would tell us why we were waiting so long. (Thanks, Jet Blue.)
It was the closest I have ever come to the proverbial thin line between civilization and chaos. As a final beat-down to my soul, when I finally got off the plane with my carry-on bag that reads "UCLA Basketball," I found myself at the baggage claim next to Joakim Noah, who looked at my bag and smirked.
By the time I got back to Manhattan and got to sleep it was after 8 AM. I woke up around 1 in the afternoon, very hungry. My friend and I walked down the block and went in to the first pizza place we found. It was the best slice I have ever had. Am I remembering it more fondly because of what I had endured that morning? Absolutely. Do I care? No. On that trip I ate at Totonno's and John's on Bleecker, and I suppose technically they were "higher quality" slices, but I will always remember this slice as the best I have ever tasted.
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