06/19/2026
I am an idiot. I booked a shoot in NYC last Saturday and somehow forgot to check the sports calendar like a responsible adult. Turns out the Knicks were playing a massive game that night, and even though it was away, half of Manhattan turned into one giant watch party.
I caught the winning moment on slow-mo video, which is dramatic and unnecessary and exactly what you want from a championship win. It's a little long, but stick around for the 9:55 mark for an unexpected passionate kiss.
Meanwhile, I was busy discovering that I could not physically reach Penn Station. The police and the crowd had other plans for me, plans that mostly involved being absorbed into a writhing mass of hundreds of young, sweaty, deliriously happy strangers. I have unlocked a brand new fear and I did not ask for it.
So naturally, I did what any reasonable person does after surviving a championship riot: I sat at the for three hours, ate avocado toast, drank tea, and waited for my dignity (and the 5:01am train to Trenton) to arrive.
Would I do it again? Absolutely not. Will I check the sports calendar next time? Also absolutely not.
