Opinion
Thoughts from the Georgetown community.
New York City, my Jerusalem
I stepped out of the bus into cold rain in Chinatown, New York City at 11 p.m. Friday night. It had already been a long night—six hours on a bus that had more rows of seats crammed into it than it was supposed to. All I wanted to do was get on the Q train, sit down in a place where I could move my legs, walk the six blocks to my row house in Brooklyn and get some sleep.