To paraphrase Woody Allen, not only is there no God, but try finding plonk on Sunday.
State liquor licensing laws are baffling in this country. Here in the city that never sleeps(tm), wine is counted as hard liquor. Which means you can’t buy it in the supermarket, next to the ingredients you might want to cook to go with it. You can only buy it in seedy little liquor stores with limited hours–though you can drink until dawn in the bars. Beer, on the other hand, is available everywhere, right next to the Doritos. It’s such a wholesome beverage that, unlike hard liquor, it’s even sold on the Lord’s Day in Manhattan. Who would think of getting smashed on beer?
But glory hallelujah, in my absence New York seems to have inched out of Prohibition. Fresh Direct, the grocery cult, delivers wine. Individual liquor stores are now allowed to open any six days they like–so that if you find the right store you can pick up a bottle of plonk on the way to a Sunday picnic in Prospect Park.
Just remember to brown-bag your glass.
Dervala.com 
Wonderful pictures! They immediately brought back the most vivid memories of that day. The air was perhaps the clearest I have ever experienced in this area, and the view of the smoking towers from almost thirty miles up river was chilling. I remember having to to break the news to some early-rising dog walkers who were unaware of the events and bewildered by the apparent fire at the World Trade Center.
And could you look any more irish?!!
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