Reading response 4: Colum McCann in “My First New York”
An excerpt from “My First New York”
Essay by Colum McCann
Please read this essay by Colum McCann, part of a book called “My First New York,” and then put a response up in the appropriate spot here, completing the assignment at the end of the reading.
It has snowed in the city. Two feet of it over the course of the night. It was the sort of snow that made the city temporarily magical, before all the horn-blowing and slush puddles and piles of dog crap crowning the melt.
A very thin little path had been cleared on 82nd Street between Lexington and Third, just wide enough for two able-bodied people to squeeze through. The snow was piled high on either side. A small canyon, really, in the middle of the footpath. On the street—a quiet street at the best of times, if anything can be quiet—the cars were buried under drifts. The telegraph wires sagged. The underside of the tree branches appeared like brushstrokes on the air. Nothing moved. The brownstones looked small against so much white. In the distance sounded a siren, but that was all, making the silence more complete.
I saw her from a distance halfway down the block. She was already bent into the day. She wore a head-scarf. Her coat was old enough to have once been fashionable. She was pushing along a silver frame. Her walk was crude, slow, laborious. With her frame, she took the whole width of the alley. There was no space to pass her.
There is always a part of New York that must keep moving—as if breath itself depends on being frantic, hectic, overwhelmed. I thought to myself that I should just clamber over the snowbank and walk down the other side of the street. But I waited and watched. Snow still fell on the shoveled walkway. Her silver frame slipped and slid. She looked up, caught my eye, gazed down again. There was the quality of the immigrant about her: something dutiful, sad, brave. A certain saudade. A longing for another place.
As she got closer, I noticed her gloves were beautifully stenciled with little jewels. Her headscarf was pulled tight around her lined face. She shoved the silver frame over a small ridge of ice, walked the final few feet and stopped in front of me.
The silence of strangers.
But then she leaned forward and said in a whisper: “Shall we dance?”
She took off one glove and reached her hand out, and with the silver frame between us, we met on the pavement. Then she let go of my hand. I bent to one knee and bowed slightly to her. She grinned and put her glove back on, said nothing more, took a hold of her silver frame, and moved on, a little quicker now, along the corridor of snow and around the corner.
I knew nothing of her, nothing at all, and yet she had made the day unforgettable.
She was my New York.
Still is.
QUESTION/RESPONSE
Now that you have read Colum McCann’s memory rooted in New York City, write a brief one of your own. Briefly recreate a moment from your own New York life. Use details. Write 300 to 350 words to tell us about your own New York moment.
Rolling Loud, the largest festival in New York City. Ever.
60,000 people looking for a good time. All united for so many different artists to perform. It was the time to be alive. There were performances back to back. The music made my eardrums vibrate to an abnormal beat. Nothing can beat the feeling of everyone jumping in sync. Girls wore bedazzled eye makeup that disappeared at the end of the festival. Boys wore clean white tee’s that were no longer white or dry by the end of the night.
There was smoke and fireworks everywhere. Water was being thrown over crowds. Everyone pushing and dancing with each other. Sadly, it ended. The party didn’t end there though. You can hear the screams of vendors selling merchandise by the train. A sea of people rushed to the 7 train. My cart to be exact, was the place to be. After a concert, there tends to be people who don’t want the night to end.
Someone in my train cart brought a speaker. They played songs that everyone loved. Everyone felt the energy and started singing at the top of their lungs. There wasn’t one person sitting down. It was the festival all over again but all within one train cart. No one was on their phone, getting annoyed, or fighting, it was just pure blissfulness.
At one point, the conductor of the 7 train had to stop the train because we were causing too much movement. People peeked from other carts and saw how we were having fun and immediately transferred to my cart. The more the merrier.
That was my moment. My New York moment. Nothing else mattered. At that moment in time, we only cared about the music. We danced the night away. It was truly beautiful to see people just enjoying life and not having a care in the world.
I like how you grab the reader with your response by doing that short and clever and rhythmic opening two sentences.
It was eleven thirty, the point of the day where adults are busy working, and kids are trapped in school. The F train was mostly empty, about 8 people in the cart. The plump man seated in front of me was supporting a tight fitted white t-shirt with soaked sweat spots, a black cap, and huge white red and black nikes.
After a couple of stops the man began to grumble. I looked up from my phone and followed his gaze to see a pigeon had gotten onto the train. I tensed up, my fear of pigeons had me repeating “please don’t fly” over and over again in my head. And as if the pigeon knew what I was thinking, it began to come closer to where I was sitting. I looked around to see if anyone else on the cart noticed, but their eyes were glued to their phones.
Then I saw something fly towards the pigeon. While my fear of pigeons made me focus on the pigeon’s movement, the man had untied his shoe and threw it at the pigeon. But, his aim had been too far off and the pigeon continued to explore the new setting, oblivious to the fact that someone had just tried to hit him with a sneaker.
The train was slowing down to stop at the station and the pigeon got closer to the doors, but even when the doors opened it made no effort to go outside. The man quickly took off his other shoe and threw it again.
Everything happened in three seconds. The announcing voice just finished saying “stand clear of the closing doors please.” The shoe was mid flight as the pigeon hoped its way onto the platform, finally out of the train. The “beeb boop” signal sounded as the doors began to close. The doors closed right after the shoe landed, on the platform. The train began to move and the shoe was left on the platform, lonely and without a purpose.
The man was screaming profanities, some people were shaking their head, and I was trying to hide my smile.
You really demonstrate an ability to create a scene here. Well done.
The view of a water body on the other side of the fence was like a border that separated me with the high skyline opposite to me. The skyscrapers touched the sky with the cloud being a medium through which they came into contact. It was almost evening and the lights added colors to the massive architectures. The orange sky on the background with the sun on the verge of setting gave a life to the whole picture. The sound of the waves hitting the shoreline and the cool breeze that blew through my long hair gave me a feeling that I never had.
“Shick!”
The sound of the shutter of my camera interrupted. This serves as the lone cause why I hate my camera. I saw many beautiful scenes through my camera lenses but the view I got at that moment through the lenses is where my world stopped for a moment. The beauty of Manhattan left me in a state of awe. I consider that picture as one of my favorite captures till now.
It was my first time in Gantry State Park. The view from the park in Queens is what I was talking about all this time. The scenic view of Manhattan skyline on the other side of the East River surpasses any picture or video of the same scene that we grew up watching in TVs or Internet. The Queensboro bridge that connects the two sides also adds to view but I couldn’t fit it in my lenses and thus didn’t mention it. One might question how the enormous brick bodies mesmerize me. I think my camera taught me to find beauty in everything I see.
That was my New York moment. That very moment when my world stopped. I have a lot to discover in this mega-city and who knows me and my friend “camera” might even find a better New York moment but lets leave it to the hand of future for now.
I like how you create a mystery at the beginning, and then tell the reader what you are up to.
Beep! I rushed across the busy street as the bus approached. Its vibrant colored identification numbers bursting out to me, this mass sped its way through traffic. The air felt dense, the traffic noisy and the different scents strong. I could smell this mixture of marijuana and coffee in the air, every breathe felt different. Alive. This freedom. I wonder why I felt alien to this, I wonder why these herds of people, these street performers, and these busy roads felt so new to me, this is how New York has always been. It was probably because I was away for so long. Probably because I had forgotten this feeling. Lost in the cloud of my own thoughts, I bumped into a person. Fancy suite, nice bag, ” Hey watch your way kid”, typical. Glaring upon the beauty of these high rise buildings around me, I looked at the people who found these to be so common. As if they were nothing. Their minds, their eyes had probably grown accustomed to them. They probably grow into the turbulence of this city which was new to me. I glared at the beautiful sky. It was true, these streets made you feel free. Painters, musicians, sellers, people in costumes, stores everything stole my breath. These sounds of people talking, these vibrations of trains running beneath your feet, everything was mesmerizing. What fascinated me most was that all of this took place within seconds. There was so much going on, yet everything was so normal, as if everything fit right into place. I’ve never known time could be so personal to you, but that day standing there in Times Square, I felt feeling I’ve never explored before. That was my New York. That moment held me in its grasp and lives within me. It might always.
You really had me from the first word, which is so incredibly evocative.
Like every morning, before the sun rises, I’m on my way to take the bus. At the bus stop, I became impatient and moaned out of annoyance “Why is he late ?”. Shivering under the cold, I checked the time on my phone again. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a man.
It was still pitch black but the light emitting from the street lamps was more than enough to help me recognize who it was. He was dressed in his same worn out orange t-shirt and was holding a huge black plastic bag as usual. He crossed the street in a rush to get to the bus stop while the traffic light was still red. He maneuvered his way between speeding cars. Drivers honked their horns as loud as they could. As he was running towards me, he mumbled unintelligible words to himself. I got used to seeing this every day. It became a part of my routine.
To my delight, the bus came. Thankfully, there were still available sits. Not long after, when the man came in and tried to move to the back, people were taking huge steps to let him pass through. They were avoiding him like the plague. He sat beside a senior. The old man didn’t looked pleased and shouted profanities at him. No one reacted.
A nauseating smell overpowered my nose, I abruptly took my light sweater to cover my nose. I looked up searching for what it was. I was not prepared for what I saw. The man opened his black bag and was eating something bizarre from it. It was a rotten leftover burger with a white liquid dripping out of it. It was a repulsive sight to see. People were shooting daggers at him. If looks could kill, he would be six feet under.
I pulled the yellow cord as we were near the subway station, eager to get out. I shook my head and murmured in disbelief “Only in New York”.
You take me into your experience right from the start, telling me where we are—and when too. I love the details and all the appeals to the senses. You understand how to do specifics.
Flashing red and blue lights. Sirens blaring. My lifeless body was thrown akin to a rag doll. I was launched like a rocket, thirteen feet up into the misty air, plummeting down similar to a roller coaster. My brother’s head shattered. Brain matter flung around resembling pink cauliflower on the cold concrete below.
You never know when your last is. Your last conversation, your last midnight adventure, your last hug, or even your last goodbye. You only come to this realization when it’s too late.
I’m sure that the drunk driver did not mean to plow my brother and I over, disfiguring him beyond recognition, leaving him for dead.
The ear-piercing screech of my hysterical mother sent shivers tumbling down my spine.
“My baby” echoed endlessly into the dark moonlight.
Phasing in and out of consciousness had become the new norm. One second I was staring into the night sky, mesmerized by the boundless stars. The next, I was in the ambulance. Barrelling down the streets on what seemed to be like an endless road to nowhere, my mother was delirious and inconsolable. It was as if the car had struck her instead.
“What did they do to you?” Tears streaming down her cheeks, dripping like a leaky faucet onto the ground.
The constant beeping of the heart monitor awoke me. Opening my crusted eyes, I was in a state of disbelief. I had survived. My grief-stricken mother had passed out on the metal armchair beside me.
Out through the smudged window, the morning sun was just rising, peaking over buildings, painting a blissful picture with peach and magenta mixed into the clouds, creating a moment of true serenity. This was my New York moment. Being able to see the Manhattan skyline with towering skyscrapers beautifully covered with hues of amber and rose, radiated hope and was symbolic to a new beginning. I had been given another shot at life.
What a terrible thing to go through, but what a compelling thing to read. Thank you for sharing this, and doing so in a compelling and powerful way.
School had just finished. The halls were bustling with kids eager to finish their days. I had 2 textbooks in hand. Being that school had just started the weather outside was fantastic and I was looking forward to my daily walk home from the train station.
I stepped on the final escalator that I needed to take to leave the building. Then all of a sudden I felt a jolt. Time slowed down. I tried to understand what was going on. At first, I was calm, after all, I am at school, I must be safe. Right? As the escalator sped up faster and faster I saw kids piling up on the bottom. The escalator grinding on their legs. It was at that moment that I felt the urge, and I jumped.
As soon as I had jumped the escalator started smoking because of how fast it was going. Kids around me were laughing. They didn’t know the horror that was going on. The screams of help from those who were in the pile still shake me today.
Not knowing what to do I left the school. But I was shaking. All of a sudden the weather didn’t seem so pleasant. Nothing seemed important. I was in pure disbelief and anxiety. For three months after that situation, I had anxiety attacks every time I was on an accelerating object. The MTA was exactly this. I was stuck in paranoia every single day until I forgot about the incident.
My NEW YORK moment is unforgettable. It was during the first days of June 2018, the school was about to finish and me and my friends were very happy. We could feel the arrival of the summer and the positive vibes that it was releasing. We bought the tickets for the biggest musical event of that year, it was the Governors ball 2018, located in Randalls Island. I was excited because it was my first time to this kind of concert. Usually, this concert last for three days but we bought the ticket for just the last day of the concert, it was the most interesting out of the three because Eminem was performing at the end of the day. As soon as we arrived, we were shocked by the amount of people that were there. It was incredible. We arrived there in the morning and we stayed until midnight. We saw many artists and we did not know many of them because they were less famous. That day you could see the happiness of every individual there and everyone was acting like nothing else in the world had meaning. The people were dancing and sweating the all time. Suddenly, the night arrived and all the people there were waiting for Eminem. I remember that he came late and all the people were shouting his name. He started the performance by singing one of his famous song: ’till I collapse. That was not the best part, the most emotional part came when he started singing “Not Afraid”, his best song. That moment is something difficult to be described in words but I will try my best. I was looking around and I saw many people crying of joy and all of a sudden it started raining. The wether played a fundamental role in making that song unforgettable. It seemed like something organized before but clearly it was not. As soon as he finished singing, we realized that we have seen one of the best concerts in history.
You give me a sense of what you went through, so I can go through it to, and I like that. Organizationally, I think you might want to break up the text into more paragraphs.
It was a busy afternoon in Manhattan, I left school and headed straight towards the train station. My last class had taken a toll on me and left me with a tension headache. I was desperate to get home and have a long nap. As I approached the train station on 23rd street, I grew so frustrated and annoyed by the great crowd of people that surrounded me. The sound of all the chattering, the loud horns and all the other unnecessary sounds made me sick to my core. I waited for an extended period of time before the six train approached the station. When the train arrived, I patiently waited for the passengers to get out of the cart. Before I knew it, a large group of people rushed in front of me to get in the cart. With haste, I got in the cart because I wanted to get home before dark.
The train was so compacted to the point that I was unable to hold one of the metal poles. The train moved so suddenly. I staggered each time it stopped and move. I felt as if I had no control over my body. I struggled to keep my balance and not fall on the passengers. I later realized that it was impossible for me to fall, since we were all so compressed. I prayed for the train to quickly get to the next stop so that some of the passengers would get off. My eyes widened in disbelief when I realized no one came off the train, in fact, more people entered. I thought to myself “Why are they in such a hurry? Wait on the next train!”
At that point I stopped trying to keep my balance. I intentionally loosened up my body so that each time the train stopped or moved, I would fall on someone. I became so nonchalant that my frustration and headache eventually went away. I was having so much fun falling on people until they got off, leaving me with no one to fall on.
Sunny day in the early fall. Hot weather makes people sweat and trash bags smell even worse than usual. Few homeless guys laying on the sidewalk, here in Hell’s Kitchen, just a few blocks west from gorgeous Times Square and fabulous Broadway. I’m sitting in a relatively quiet place in the middle of this melting pot. Taking a bite of a pizza slice, I’m wondering what’s so special in this place? Why so many people love New York?
Despite all these unpleasant smells, mean people, crowds of people this city has something that attracts millions of people around the world. Something that builds a famous brand by featuring New York in movies, tv shows, music, and culture. Something that makes foreign investors move their money here. Something that brought me here. And now I’m sitting here, enjoying this short moment of my 3-day trip which I craved for so long and which I will repeat in my head for almost two years before I finally move here.
And now I’m here, finishing my dinner while listening to some Latin American music over the radio. It’s late already and ought to go back to my hotel room because of an early flight tomorrow. But I’m still sitting in this small cafe and enjoying the moment. In this incredibly big megapolis with always rushing people, who don’t care about each other, everything seems so familiar and homely. I feel like I never left my hometown, never had 12hr no-sleep flight across the Atlantic Ocean and never had one of the most exciting journeys in my life so far. I feel like I lived here forever. Maybe it’s because of all movies featuring New York streets I watched or of huge cultural influence. Or maybe it’s simply because I was meant to be here?
Watching people maneuvering between a sleeping homeless guy and trash bags, I’m recollecting moments of my eventful day and asking myself – Is this what I expected? The answer is short and simple – no. If so, am I disappointed now? Well, sort of. Do I wish my little trip to a big city never ended? Absolutely.
It was twenty degrees outside. I could see my breath outline the air and people were pushing and shoving, trying to get in the venue to escape the cold. The security patted me down in search of any illegal substances, but this was my first experience. I didn’t know what I was getting myself into.
Once I got inside, I got an immediate whiff of this musty environment, an overwhelming scent of both alcohol and body perspiration. It’s dark; I could barely see who I was in front or walking next to. It’s almost suffocating, but the energy in the room is contagious. Bodies are pressed against each other, trying to make it through the crowd as the music gets louder and louder. The line to the bar is snaking around the backside outline of the venue. People were standing around, buying drinks and socializing before the rave started. People were dressed in minimal but colorful attire, equipped with even lights attached to their fingers or beaded bracelets.
I tried to make my way closer to the stage, but people were starting to fill the middle of the venue. My capability to maneuver and breathe started to become more restricted. I pushed and shoved to get closer, but the force of the crowd pushed me back. There was a moment of silence before the artist came on. The moment before the vibrant lights scattered in a matter of seconds was breathtaking. But soon, the stage was filled with almost blinding bright lights as the crowd sent out these relentless almost deafening cheers. The music pulsed through my body. There were barely any lyrics. It almost sounded hums of pure mindless music but the whole crowd started to sway left and right, jumping in harmony to every beat of each song.
This was something so new to me, but a culture that I wanted to be a part of. I felt at home like I no longer had any care in the world. Illenium, December 2018, 3,000 people and the moment that is so deeply rooted in my New York life.
Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. I sat there in the humid classroom watching the clock, waiting for the end of the school day. It was a hot summer day, sometime in June, and I was eager to go to my after-school program. Today was the day I had been waiting for. The day where I would be promoted. At the time I was a green belt desperate to prove I was as good as everyone else. However, to my shocker things were done differently than the last. I had a bout to attend, against another member of my team. And to make matters worst it was against one of my closest friends.
We had been friends all through elementary and middle school, but never in my wildest dreams did I think I would have to fight him. As I headed downstairs towards the auditorium, where we held all our events, all I could think of is the fight. My friend stood about six inches over me and was nearly twice my size. We had sparred before, but I had only won once. As I opened the doors I felt the cool breeze of the fans brush upon my face and gi. I saw all the spectators, friends and family of my peers, eager to see the matches. I was the third match of six and grew increasingly nervous as the fights went on.
The air around me seemed to get warmer, and my gi grew damper with sweat. When it was my turn I stepped onto the mat already in fighting stance. The rules were simple, hit your opponent before you get hit. There were three rounds, first to win two would win. First round came and went, with him as the victor. In the second I blocked his punch and stuck him in the torso evening the score. In the third he dodged my punch leaving me vulnerable, and then swept me. Time slowed down as I fell. I thought about what I had done, and then my world fell. I had crashed onto the mat.
I like your clean and clear sentences, and love how you start this and take me into what you were going through. Very effective. You do an awful lot in a relatively few words.
The air was still yet had a crisp punch to it. It was 10 to 5 and the sky was a dark amber that reflected on to all the trees and green fields surrounding. The greens were so green, the leaves were orange from the change of the season. The orange was so vibrant it was hard to wrap my head around that nature created that, it had to be superficial. Hours had went by, and I was yet to encounter any other living being besides the squirrels that scurried from tree to tree. How peaceful this is, I thought. Time seemed to be frozen. I knew it couldn’t be, my own flaw of not being able to suspend my disbelief. This tranquil place was unsettling to me.
After four months in Indiana, It was time to head home. As the plane took off I watched the ground become smaller and smaller. Goodbye corn mazes. Goodbye friendly folks. Smaller and smaller my Indiana life became, larger and larger my freedom grew. I was so relieved that I could feel a tear conspire in my eye. I couldn’t hold back the water that flooded my eyes any longer. It was a cathartic experience for sure, I felt purged of all these intense emotions that seemed out of place in Indiana, too mild of a place for these potent emotions and ambitions of mine.
I caught a glimpse of the lights, they told me I was close, I was right there! I can see the Empire State building from thousands of feet up in the sky, how flamboyant my city is I thought. Exactly how I like it. I have never felt such a strong sensation of homecoming until the plane landed in New York.
In the taxi, I drove on the Brooklyn bridge and saw all the buildings, standing tall waiting to greet me. As I passed each one, I felt so content, so at ease, I felt truly peaceful as the cars honked and the sirens wailed. The jungle of lights and crowds was idyllic. I felt blissful.
This is a lovely look at a moment of homecoming. You have nailed it by using specifics, like the air and the lights. You get into the physical sensations in a great way.
Classes had just started a week ago, and a couple of my professors instructed me to acquire certain books I would need for their course. I had just moved to the city about three weeks prior and decided my way of transportation to and from class would be my bike. I did not think at the time to educate my self on all the laws regarding owning a bike in the city. I thought it was one of those lawless things. Able to swerve in between cars, ride on the street or sidewalk, and run red lights. Oh was I wrong. It was great for the first couple weeks, until this dreadful Friday. I left my apartment at 4:15pm promptly knowing that the book store closes at 5:00pm. I zoomed past the first couple of blocks with all the other bikers beside me, feeling like I was part of the Indianapolis 500, hugging my turns and all. As we approached 14th street the light turned yellow and then red. Correspondingly, the bikers beside me slowed down and then stopped. This has never happened before though, bikers always run reds, why stop now I thought to my self. So, I kept going, and I wish I had not. As soon as I crossed that white line where all the others were stationary, those famous red and blue lights flipped on. Yes, I got pulled over on my bike. They all saw the cop, but I didn’t know to look for one, and therefore did not. He asked me if I knew what I did wrong and I shook my head yes. I pleaded my case, saying “I just moved here and it is my first offense”, but he wanted none of it. He went to his cruiser and printed up what would soon ruin my day. It was after this experience I knew I had a lot to learn about this city.
I like this. It gives me a sense of that whole welcome-to-New-York. My own version came when I moved here in 2002 and the moving truck hit a tree and the guy from the management company at my building ran out to tell me that I was financially responsible for any damage that my movers did to the tree…
With a bit of nerves and excitement, I step onto the N train.
Commuters rush before me and quickly get seated. It was my first week in NYC and I was just adjusting and adapting to the new environment. I chose to sit by the window seat; it just had a right feeling to it. And boy was I right. Everyday the N train uses the Brooklyn bridge to enter into Manhattan. And for two minutes and thirty-six seconds (fifty-five seconds on slow days) the N train and its commuters have a magnificent view of the entire city. More specifically, we see the thin Island of Manhattan that inhabits tall skyscrapers and fierce ambitions; we see the tourists roaming DUMBO, Brooklyn; we see the wavering bay of the Hudson river; we see the incredible architecture of the Manhattan bridge across from us; we see busy natives on their morning runs across the bridge. It really is a sight to see.
The two minutes ride on the bridge is my favorite part of my morning and afternoon commute. It simply NEVER gets old for me. I can soak up all of the sights but still be hungry for more. In the morning, the sun’s radiant light rays reflect on the glistening New York waters; at night, the city is alive with noise and colorful bright lights–but not lights from the sun, but lights from homes, cars, phones, buildings, billboards, people. No matter what time of day, New York City is bustling with activity: cars zoom through the bridges, the boats settle on the waters, the trains steer on the sides, the tourists capture pictures, the natives shop or dine, and the sky shines with the help of the New York City aura.
No matter how stressful the day in school is, I always look forward to seeing that view. It’s sort of recharges me. It makes me motivated and driven to get my work done. It makes me happy for the next day. It makes me excited for my future. And most importantly, it makes it clear to me that New York City is my home.
Oh, I totally get that…the part of the ride that’s compelling and I love how you say it never gets old for you.
December 27th, 2019, it is a not so cold Friday winter night. Two days
ago on Christmas Day it was my girlfriend’s birthday. I took this day off from work to take her out you know wine and dine her. I decided I wanted to show her around downtown Manhattan specifically the Chelsea area which is where I was working at the time.
New York City is known for its exquisite restaurants and from my
personal experience this definitely goes accordingly with the steakhouse restaurants here in the city. I decided to take her to Old Homestead Steakhouse which is located on 14th. St. and 9th Ave. You definitely got the NYC feeling when we walked in. The atmosphere was exactly how I expected it to be which was small and very personal. Everyone there was so busy eating and talking about whatever they were talking about. It just had that New York feel to it if you know what I mean. The waiter came served us our water and then asked if we were ready to order. We decided to go with the New York Sirloin steak with a side of mashed potatoes and mac and cheese and a half bottle of Pinot Grigio.
Of course typical New York moment we waited almost a hour for our
food to be ready. However, that wait was worth it as the food was on point. The steak was nice, tender, and juicy. After we stuffed our faces, we decided to paint the town red and head even more downtown by MacDougal Street to go to a hookah bar. Here is where the fun began because this place had a great deal on these creative shots which were 4 for $10. We had a couple rounds of those along with some hookah which is the new thing which has taken over the New York party scene over the last couple years.
You would’ve thought the night would be over after that, but no it
wasn’t because the New York thing to do is bar hop so we ended up at one last place called McKenna’s which is located on 14th St. & 8th Ave. This place is cool because they have buy one get one free from midnight until 2 AM. My girlfriend and I love Hennessey so that is exactly what I bought two rounds of for us to drink until the happy hour was over. We danced and sang to our favorite bars alone with other drunk people and couples. The night ended with us walking around drunk and laughing about Lord knows what.
You are making me miss the idea of an exciting night out in the city, especially during the “pause” of a pandemic!
Love the prompt. But the text is too busy describing New York, we have all been there, we get it.
But New York will never be the same. At the time of me writing this New York has 100,000+ confirmed cases and is still climbing fast. The recent memories of new york are so normalized because of the way I spent my time. Most days I would still just sit in my room and make music in my bedroom studio.
My memory of New York is quite different from before at least, when it wasnt so crowded. My family and I ended up on a bus to FIDI to go see the Statue of liberty. We found a Ferry that would take us there, and honestly it was really cool seeing these sites for the first time. Having been so familiar with pop culture. It was especially cool being in a hotel in times square. That’s where dreams begin from. When the boat stopped so we could go take a closer look. I remained in the boat, I was thinking to myself that I have a better view from right here.
The same way you can see more of New york when you’re outside of it. For example, 8th street in Jersey city, by the water, you can see most of the skyline sprinkled island. My memories are the first sight of something so often.
I hope New York recovers fast, people are gonna die and these are real families that each have a story. But way more people die from other causes than from Corona, and we need to find a solution to resume life as it should be. The people shouldnt have to suffer over China and the US having silent WW3.
Remember to capitalize the “York” is New York. I recommend slowing down enough to see the mistakes, and then fixing them, whether the city is being fast or slow!
We all know the bustling, wild and untamable city that is New York; there are countless descriptions of its explosive atmosphere and fast-moving lifestyle, but I want to talk about a different New York, one I witnessed a few days ago, when I left to get some groceries.
After so many days spent locked up, I welcomed the chance to get outside and breathe in the city, knowing it would instantly reinvigorate me. But what greeted me was not the New York I expected; it was so devoid of life and activity that it seemed wholly alien to me. Gloom and melancholy hung thick in the air, and as I began my walk downtown, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of despair at the emptiness that surrounded me. The silence was deafening, and the darkness overwhelming. Every shop, restaurant and bar I passed had its shutters down, and the halal carts that used to occupy street corners were nowhere to be seen.
Never before had I seen Manhattan look so dead. I was suddenly aware of how alone I was, and I quickened my pace as I felt a shiver run down my spine. I tried to blend in with the shadows and make myself inconspicuous, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was about to jump out and rob me.
Somewhere deep down I also felt a tinge of safety, because I realized that this emptiness meant that people were taking this pandemic seriously. It spoke volumes about the citizens of this city, who had so readily abandoned their lifestyles for the sake of public safety. The residents of New York are always on the move; they always have places to be and things to do, and sedentary life is not something they enjoy. But in spite of that, they’ve clamped down their instincts and confined themselves to a dreary life that clashes with their sense of being.
The stillness was only momentary. New York City would come back to life with a vengeance.
I like how you compare the active city with the one you describe as the “dead” one, and how you take us into what you are experiencing during this difficult time.