Today, I treated myself to a city sampler platter of joy. A little culture. A little culinary delight. A little walking-off-the-week energy. And here’s the kicker. It was all done with barely any crowd-dodging or line-weaving. Score.

First stop: an off-Broadway play.
You know the kind. Small theater. Big emotions. Actors pouring their souls out five feet away from you while someone in the second row subtly unwraps a peppermint like it’s a stealth mission. I love it. There’s something raw, intimate, and real about off-Broadway. No laser light shows or $26 sodas. Just storytelling, stripped down and potent. Theater that still smells a little like dreams and sawdust.

Then I wandered into a bar I’d never been to before. One of those  places where the drinks have names like “Neon Regret” or “The Quiet Scorpio.” Everything glowed slightly. There was a mural. The bartender had a twinkle and zero attitude. And the sliders-oh, those magical, tender, tiny burgers-were so good they could have ended an argument or started a love story. I ate them like I hadn’t just had a cheese plate 90 minutes earlier. (Time is fake on excursion days.)

And the city?

Remarkably chill. Fewer humans than usual. The sidewalks weren’t clogged with tour groups or TikTok dancers. There was space to walk, to breathe, to look up without stepping into a puddle or conspiracy theorist.

Sometimes, a Sunday like this feels like the city is winking at you. Like it’s saying, “Yeah, I know I’m usually a lot. But today? Today, I’ll be kind.”

So here’s to those unexpected yes-days. The ones where you wander just enough off your usual path to remember you’re not just surviving—you’re allowed to enjoy. To eat sliders without guilt. To sip a drink with too many garnishes. To sit in the dark watching actors cry and think, same, babe, same.

Because joy doesn’t always come in big life-altering doses. Sometimes, it’s just a perfectly cooked slider and a half-empty sidewalk. And on a Sunday, that’s more than enough.