“Next women’s high heeled shoes could be

“Next stop will be New York Penn station everyone, New York Penn station.” The muffled sounds of the conductor’s voice echoed through out the train. Everyone seemed to rise in unison, as if it were rehearsed, to prepare for our arrival. The train comes to a screeching halt, and the hissing of the doors opening reveals Penn station. As I embark from the train on to the pavement, I am suddenly bombarded by a mob of people pushing in one direction, forcing me up the narrow escalator. I arrive at the top and begin to wander into the hectic city life. I stopped for a moment just to observe the people in the streets.

Many of them were scurrying to get somewhere, talking on the phone, listening to music, and ignoring one another as if they were the only ones here. The men were all dressed in their suits and ties and the women’s high heeled shoes could be heard striking the ground very swiftly one after the other. The enormous skyscrapers tower over me and I can no longer feel the summer sun beating down on my skin. The architecture of each building is so eye-catching and differs from one another. Some appear to be made of all glass, others are more vintage looking, and some even have striking statues attached to the buildings.

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The streets seem more congested than the side walks. The continuous sounds of cars honking at one another pierce through my ears, and the bright yellow taxis are so overpowering to the eyes. I continue to walk and I am hit with a smell of the concession stands on every corner. The smells of the greasy knishes and hot dogs, the salty pretzels, and the warm peanuts fill up the air. The smell is so appealing that I stop to try some. The pretzel I bite into is crunchy on the outside, yet so warm and soft on the inside. My tongue stings for a moment as the salt hits it but it just adds to the magnificent zest of the pretzel. However, when I’m not passing one of the many stands all I can smell is the gasoline coming from the cars and the garbage.

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