At check out today, the woman before me had her bag open. It reminds me of my first experience in New York, at JFK preciously. I had a drawstring bag and it was open just like this woman’s. From the moment I got off the plane to waiting in line to custom, three people tapped my shoulder, letting me know that my handbag wasn’t closed. I thanked them and did nothing. I knew New York would treat me right. And it did and still does.