My New York City survival guide
It’s September in New York City. Mercifully, the sweltering heat is abating. The putrid smell of trash is lifting ever so slightly and the kids are back at school after what feels like 100 years of overpriced summer camps with mortgage-worthy price tags. For me, it also means swapping my usual attire – best described as “I’m a freelance writer and can therefore wear whatever the hell I want” for the more publicly appropriate slacks and a nice shirt as I head back to the classroom to teach graduate students about the art and absurdities of communication. I’ve been co-teaching two of these classes every fall for the past five years and enjoy the structure they bring to my otherwise higgledy-piggledy week.
