First of all, I can see the Central Park fireworks from my living-room. So that's excellent. But there's more:
Every now and then, I'm reminded that in addition to being a crowded, pushy, still-dangerous mass of 1% "takers" and violent assholes, NYC is also the official Center of the Frikkin' Universe©. Like today:
There's a brewery down in Delaware that is actually (this is so cool) recreating ancient booze with the help of an honest-to-goodness biochemical archeologist. Now I saw that one of those brews is Kvasir, which is a rough approximation of what the Vikings drank when they wanted to get hammered and declaim poetry (and which occupies a place in Norse mythology not unlike that of soma in Hindu scripture). So I thought "I could like that...but not if I have to order the stuff through the mail or spend an hour and a half on the train to get to Bay Ridge or Red Hook for it." So I look it up on the website's locater function...and it's being sold at the Duane Reade three blocks from my apartment.
Center of the Frikkin' Universe©, baby.