Most people who live here have what they refer to as "New York Moments." These are moments that remind you that you're in New York, moments that could only occur in this amazing and wacky city. I've had several. The dog walker with about a dozen dogs that all decided to run down Park Avenue with her at the end of their leashes leaving people darting out of her way and diving in bushes, the first moment I walked into Yankee Stadium, the line of mourning firefighters in their dress garb I encountered outside Penn Station shortly after 9-11. There are many, many more but you get the idea.

I had the most amazing New York Moment last night. Elvis was playing at the Beacon Theater on the Upper West Side (72nd & Broadway) and I was working at a client's site on the upper East Side (96th & Madison) so I decided to walk to the venue. It was a dark, chilly autumn night and I was leaving at 5:30, the heart of rush hour. Manhattan was, of course, in full force. People were out en mass on the sidewalks, the streets were in complete gridlock and the taxis were screeching and honking. I was encompassed with the craziness of this city that I love. In order to get from the West Side to the East Side I decided to cut across Central Park at 81st. I left the loud city streets and descended into the darkness of the Park. I stayed on the main paths until I crossed under the transversal and began to walk near the Turtle Pond. Suddenly it hit me. That is, nothing hit me. I was totally alone in the world's metropolis. There were no lights, no other people in sight and I was engulfed in utter silence except for the few ducks in the distance. Even though I was running late I stopped for a few minutes to take in the solitude around me. Oddly enough, it wasn't eerie. Instead, it was a soothing respite in a busy couple of days. I then kept heading west and emerged to the glorious thunder of Central Park West.