About ten years ago, I mentioned to a friend that I was going to a week-long conference in New York. "Oh, I'm going to that too. Why don't you stay at my dad's place with me. It's close, and you can bring your bike and really get to know the city." So I spent a week living in a brownstone on W 82nd between Columbus and Central Park West, getting up early each morning to bike around Central Park, then off to the Javits, stopping at Zabar's for coffee and a bagel on the way. Spend my day at the conference, bike back in the afternoon (while I found bicycling in New York far safer than in Boston, I wasn't quite up to trying it after dark), and spend the evening doing all kinds of interesting things courtesy of a public transit system that actually works.

So "closet?" I don't know. But I would totally love to be a New Yorker — if only someone would offer me a a $200k/year job there.