There’s something special about the last 5 minutes on the flight to New York City.

You hover over skyscrapers on an island that’s confined by geography, but not limited by any other dimension.

As you view the skyline from above you can just feel the sweat, ambition and dreams of soon-to-be-icons.

Your nostalgia brings about memories of Sinatra, Rockefeller, and Biggie while you simultaneously envision time square billboards of today’s legends.

You look out the window at 18 million people across 5 boroughs and countless acronyms as they bump up against each other with attitude and disagreement, producing creativity and artistry unimaginable to any single individual.

A place where people are obsessed with the newest yoga craze, but for most, New York City living is their yoga.

The charming streets of the west village, a Sunday afternoon that starts at the MoMA and ends up in Central Park, the diversity in language in the outer Burroughs, or finding love in strange places.

You see the lights and feel blood rush to your brain and a tingle sensation all over, in a way in which you couldn’t stop it, even if you tried.

It’s the last 5 minutes before you enter into something special.

It’s a way of life.

It’s New York City.