New York P.S.

I forgot to mention (I have no idea how) that I set foot on hallowed ground whilst trekking amid the towers and traffic flow of that venerable Gigantic Granny Smith, the Burgh of Insomnia. I saw -- and I recognized it immediately -- the firehouse that was used in the filming of one of the great archetypes of cinema: Ghostbusters. I saw it. From a quarter mile away, the very instant mine eyes laid rest on the brick-red edifice, I knew what it was.
Says I to Shayma, "Look thusly, good sister, that monument, lit from behind with the seraphic light of Olympus, be it not the same one as in the glorious and noble moving-picture from our youth, starring the gentlemen Akroyd, Ramis, Hudson, and Murray? Nay surely not; we are nary so blessed to receive such a heavenly eye-full."
She saith back, "I don't know, Ben, there's lots of firehouses in New York."
Yet, as we approached, the vision proved to be no counterfeit, mine eyeballs decievethed me not. I walked inside and waved to the firemen, and was greeted with stupefied looks. I called some friends to boast, I grinned widely, my gait gained gusto. My childhood had come 'round full circle and culminated in this one event, my Hajj. I am fully man, fully realized, fully awesome.