With the talk box gibbering everywhere about the imminent disaster arriving on the charging backs of snow demons, I was anticipating a long stay in the limbo that is the airport. But while the furies kicked and bucked our craft, we stayed above the tempest’s fell heart and landed on our ice skate wheels. B met me at the JFK and back in her hood we laced up our ice skate shoes to have a drink at the local speakeasy. New York Old Fashioneds: cognac, rye, sugar cube, angostura bitters, and artisanal ice cube. So it begins.
All photos by Noel Tendick.