Chinese shoppers are descending on Dubai's malls, both expensive and cheap ones, as well as the $2,000 a night, sail-shaped Burj Al Arab hotel.
Join him on the midnight sailing of a Channel ferry as he contemplates night crossings mythic and modern.
On the Hudson, there is Wednesday evening sailing in Hudson Cove near Haverstraw.
Kwayne Busby, a tall, lean 30-year-old who plans to go professional one day, spent Tuesday afternoon sailing over the rises and dips at Owls Head.
He said many people who had jobs there might not be able to reach Pier 11 in time for the evening sailing.
Since 1990, the Hudson River Yacht Racing Association, which claims to be the smallest yacht racing association in the country, has held Wednesday evening sailing in Hudson Cove, drawing participants from the Croton Yacht Club and the Shattemuc Yacht Club.
It was a Sunday morning sailing, not a midnight one, and although a fair-sized crowd was on hand by the ten-o'clock embarkation deadline, only passengers were allowed aboard and there was no opportunity for any of those frenzied bon-voyage parties that frequently ended in somebody's hilarious attempt to go along as a stowaway.
The New Yorker, February 7 , 1931P. 40 Tells of a woman who moved away from West Eleventh Street with its rumbling "L" and its careening trucks and midnight sailing steamers to the Gramercy Park section, where for a time they lapped up the quiet, and looked on the private park with contentment.
By Jess Nancy Grice The New Yorker, February 7 , 1931P. 40 Tells of a woman who moved away from West Eleventh Street with its rumbling "L" and its careening trucks and midnight sailing steamers to the Gramercy Park section, where for a time they lapped up the quiet, and looked on the private park with contentment.
By Deborah Pease The New Yorker, September 24 , 1966P. 186 The author recalls looking out the front porch door of her grandparents' house on the Maine seashore, put ting off the moment when she had to go upstairs for her nap while everyone else spent the summer afternoon sailing.
The New Yorker, September 24 , 1966P. 186 The author recalls looking out the front porch door of her grandparents' house on the Maine seashore, put ting off the moment when she had to go upstairs for her nap while everyone else spent the summer afternoon sailing.
