New York City,
I think about you all the time. You mean so much to me. I cannot wait to live between those concrete walls, with streets that smell like cigars and hot dog water. Although it sounds disgusting, I know it is where I am meant to be.
Being in a restaurant while a man who looks like Frank Sinatra plays tunes from a trumpet, trombone, or saxophone excites me to the point that I would swim in the Hudson River—which is gross—just to experience it. I would probably get an infection, but that is how New York City makes me feel.
It is easy to find anything since everything is so close. There are so many cultures and backgrounds, making it so beautiful. Tears fill my eyes as I realize things are happening in Manhattan and I am not there. I think of the phenomenal fried rice in Chinatown, the pizzas and authentic pasta in Little Italy, and, of course, the bagels, with all sorts of cream cheeses and all of the bagel flavors you can imagine.
On the subway, I eavesdrop on the lady speaking a foreign language next to me, trying to see if I can decipher what she is laughing about. This is something I would never get in a suburban, low-populated area where everyone knows each other’s business. I would stare at the people coming in and out, seeing where they were heading to or coming from. All the good-looking men in suits are departing into the financial district.
The subway always reminds me of life. Some people stay for a super long time because they’re going to the same place, but others stay for a short period because they are headed to a different location. It made me a bit sad because nothing lasts forever. What made me sadder was that I saw no rats at the subway station.
I adore the fast-paced lifestyle and that no one cares enough to judge you. People are too busy being freelance writers in their Chelsea apartments or primary fashionistas working for Vogue. Too busy making phone calls from their Upper East Side offices. Not that that is what everyone in New York City does, but that’s what I like to think anyway. Still, you can find caring people there—a stranger in Magnolia Bakery who smiled at you or a group of police officers taking a picture with you just because you asked (from personal experience).
Yes, New York City can be dirty and smelly, but as I heard someone say: you can take the girl out of the city, but not the city out of the girl. I long for the sparkling lights of Times Square, the beautiful, old, and rusty bridge in Brooklyn, the phenomenal meals I had in Hell’s Kitchen, mid-afternoon shopping in Soho, the homey feel of Greenwich Village, and the overall feeling of comfort and belonging New York City gives me. I strive to walk the streets of New York City pretending to be the main character, listening to “Somewhere Only We Know” or “Cardigan” in my AirPods. New York City is a feeling. It will always be New York or nowhere for me.
