My New York

When I think about the quintessential thing in New York my mind immediately races to Times Square. The history, atmosphere, location, structures, and entertainment make this place a part of New York. The place many tourists go when finding a place to be completely awed is: Times Square. There’s nothing like it, and I’m so glad that being a New Yorker has allowed me that great privilege.

March 29, 2009

Contradiction at its Best

As a student at Baruch College, I joined the club that commutes in and out of the city each day. The wonderful F Train of the New York Subway System allowed me this great luxury. The train leaves me off at 23^rd Street and 6^th Ave. As I walked the blocks from 6^th to Lexington Ave, it has given me a view of New York at its finest. There are many qualities that set New York apart from other cities that fill the world. New York is contradictions, and a sense of being a part of a bigger culture.

As I walk this route everyday to school, the surroundings seem so familiar and comfortable now. That’s New York! It only takes one experience of seeing a girl’s blue hair, multi-colored tights, and black combat boots to realize that all those things are normal in New York. In no other city, would you be able to find that girl, waiting for the light to turn red in order to get to the other side, standing next to a man dressed in an Armani Exchange suit. This man, in New York, will not even glance twice at this woman standing next to him. This scene in a small town like Stilwell, Oklahoma, would create more, like a look of disgust. This is a contradiction, because two seemingly different people are walking side by side down the street together. Most mornings, I am barely awake, let alone observant enough, to realize the atmosphere and the people I walk those 4 or 5 blocks with. With my hectic schedule, I can barely find time to relax throughout the day, but as I walk in the City I am finally able to unwind. As a result, most accounts of my journey are barely remembered.

But this morning, I will note all experiences that fill my walk. New York starts the minute I get out of my seat and step onto the subway platform: Everyone waits patiently in line to get off the train. The doors open and it seems as if you are transported to a horse race: the gun shot is heard and “We’re off”. Everyone jets off the train to their intended destination. You may get a slight shove, but a mumbled “Sorry” is heard soon after and not a second thought is wasted. Only in New York, are the people always on the run, and moving at a pace faster than anyone in Oklahoma could ever move. We are all part of the hustle and bustle of New York, although we still hold onto our own daily lives. I go through the turnstile, and there is one man that wants to get ahead of the line, wants to cheat his way and go through the Emergency Door. In any other city, the sign DO NOT TOUCH EMERGENCY EXIT would mean just that and keep people away, but not in Manhattan. Those words just create a slight hesitation. The hesitation is soon suppressed by the idea of waiting on the long line to get through the turnstile, and knowing you are already running late.

My walk officially begins at the light on 6^th Ave. As I get out, the same African American man is handing out The Metro newspaper. I take one and in return, receive a smile. Today, I miss the light and have to wait at the light to cross the street. As I wait, more and more people surround me. In New York, personal space does not exist and more often than not it is invaded. It’s never intended, but since everyone is always in a rush, it can not be avoided. I hear the song playing on the man’s iPod next to me. It’s some Russian dance song, very enjoyable, and I find myself tapping my foot to the rhythm. That is New York too! In this city, everyone has his or her own culture and beliefs, but still they remain a New Yorker. New York is a culture within itself. 

The light turns green, and I walk across the street. I come across the homeless man I usually see, wrapped in his oversized brown jacket, and fur hat. He has a shopping cart filled with different types of garbage. “Arrgh”, the man grunts to himself, but no one seems to have heard or seems frightened by this man. This is a normal recurrence to all who are walking with me. Women and men, dressed in their business suits, are buying breakfast off a street vendor. Intelligent business people buying food off the street? Yes, that again is something that sets N.Y. apart from any other city. Again, another contradiction. The street cart doesn’t look clean, yet people, myself included, buy and eat the food held in that exact cart. Non-New Yorkers would call us crazy.

I am now on 23^rd Street and Madison Ave, and Madison Square Park is located on my left. The park benches are typically accompanied by one or two people smoking a cigarette, and venting about their lives. I hear “I can’t believe he said that…” from a woman in distress, talking to her girlfriend. I wonder what he actually said, and I laugh to myself at how nosy I am. The smell of manure is in the air; they must just have fertilized the plants in the park. I quicken my pace so I get off the block and away from that terrible aroma. Another contradiction about New York: passing the horrible smell of manure to the sweet air of the food carts to come.

I cross the street to Lexington Ave, and I immediately smell roasted peanuts. Now this is the best smell, and I can’t hold back my cravings so I buy some. Again, you see people on their cigarette breaks chatting about their crazy night before. It’s 10 o’clock in the morning, but that doesn’t stop the smoker. They need their cigarette no matter what. As I pass the Gramercy Theater, there’s a man advertising for the upcoming concert. I can’t resist taking a pamphlet, even though I will most likely not attend the concert. In New York, there is always some sort of entertainment offered to you. It could be a comedy show, a concert, a poetry reading, or an art gallery. New York is a place filled with the opportunity to be entertained. I round the corner and Baruch is now in sight. I almost walk into a woman as I turn; we’re both in a rush it seems, and nearly knock each other over. We each mumble an “Oh sorry, excuse me”, and continue walking.

My walk route to school is coming to an end, and as I walk through the Baruch doors I can only think: Man, I love the city. It’s the best place to live, and I’m not just saying that because I live here. It really is a place where you can be yourself, and receive no glaring looks in response. It’s open to anyone; doesn’t discriminate based on your skin color, nationality, sexual orientation, and gender. New York is one of a kind.

March 10, 2009