From the Bronx to the Battery: One Epic Manhattan Adventure

Let me set the scene: two women of a certain age, armed with sneakers, sass, and absolutely no plan other than “get to downtown Manhattan from 215th Street.” The goal? Thirteen miles of walking, talking, laughing, and storytelling. The result? An unforgettable adventure with my ride-or-die.

We started strong at Inwood Hill Park, where nature whispered a blessing upon our journey via glorious Spring weather and a majestic Maine Coon named Michael. Michael, who was clearly on his own meditative morning stroll, set the tone: chill vibes only.

From there, we huffed and puffed up what felt like 47 flights of stairs (we stopped counting after ten) to admire the views near The Met Cloisters. Note to future selves: return for medieval art and less cardiovascular distress.

Next stop: Grant’s Tomb, where a kind and enthusiastic docent schooled us on the history of the place. The man loved his job, and we loved him for it. We then attempted to pop into Riverside Church, but let’s just say the welcome committee needs a little spiritual recalibration. (Be nicer, Church People.)

At Columbia University, we made the obvious choice: buy a book. Because no Saturday in the city is complete without feeding the soul and the TBR pile.

And then… the phone incident. Yes, I lost my cell phone in Morningside Park. Mild panic. But plot twist: we found it in the possession of a kindhearted homeless man who had kept it safe in his pocket. We tipped him, and humanity earned itself a gold star for the day. Oh, and we can’t forget to mention the street side bookseller next to the park. Of course we had to stop a take a browse.

Later, we found ourselves sipping refreshing cocktails at Tavern on the Green, basking in Central Park’s glory when BAM—Philip Hamilton (aka @anthonyramosofficial) appeared. And yes, we fangirled. Quietly. Respectfully. We’re classy like that.

Midtown? Chaos. Elbow-to-elbow with lost tourists, slow walkers, and general mayhem. We somehow missed Washington Square Park (how? no idea), but we did wander into the magic of Bleecker Street, where all is forgiven.

Our final stop: Fraunce’s Tavern. Oysters. One chicken and one beef pot pie. Cocktails. Feet throbbing. Spirits soaring. We laughed, we toasted, we devoured comfort food like women who earned it—which we did.

Thirteen miles. Dozens of stairs. One lost (and found) phone. A plethora of puppy sightings. Infinite stories.

We may not have planned this journey page by page, but by the end, we’d written another unforgettable chapter together. And spoiler alert: the book’s getting really good.

Your story’s waiting - what chapter will you write next?

Grab your favorite travel companion, pack some curiosity, and choose your own adventure. The best stories are the ones you live.