In our old blue station wagon, we drove across the bridge and along the water. Up ahead I could feel the presence of the city but wasn't ready for the immediacy of the newly emerging sky lines and scrapers. Unprepared for the blinding buildings, which appeared to rival the sun itself, I felt as though the car was traveling much faster than the posted speed limit. We were flying closer and sooner than I was prepared for, into uncertainty and beyond. Perhaps this had been a bad decision. Peering out of the window I could easily distinguish the cluster of infamous skyscrapers and found myself humbled in the face of progress and design. New York City, a haven of buildings recognizable as one, yet separately nameless and unknown. The Empire State Building, the Chrysler Building, Trump Tower. Yet to whom did their buildings offer shelter? What lay inside each of the tall floors of steel and beyond the windows of glass? The quantity was visible, yet quality was illusive. We were approaching an atmosphere unlike the one I had loved in the fall. Understanding that no new moment can be the same as the past, I wondered why I had thought New York City would be the same as Washington D.C.
My love of life in a city was a newly discovered one. The past semester spent among politics and monuments, students and simpletons, I felt as though I had moved to D.C. only to feel as though I had found my way back home. A place to think, challenge and constantly reflect, I knew that I could not return to the small town of Clinton come Spring. I needed to be around more people, to be caught up in the diverse hustle and appreciation of life that only a city can offer. So as December ended and the new year began I packed my bags for New York City.
I've been penned up on the 30th floor of our apartment building for the past week. My sense of curiosity and sense of exploration have been dimmed by the freezing temperatures. I've braved out a handful of times and have observed the ways New Yorkers fight the weather. The long black coats that puff out in all directions dominate this new outerwear style. Gloves, hats and scarves of varying colors and materials adorn the drab black coats and offer a peek at the personality of the person underneath the layers. Many with plain white cotton, others with signature designs on recognizable cashmere, some adorned with bright colors of individual patterns; I wonder how much thought goes into the necessity of keeping a body warm? For those who are without scarves or gloves, street stands every block cater to the cold. Yet few people pause to stop, and many disappear into the constant rush. There exists a definite New York Walk. Head up, narrow eyes fixed straight ahead by imaginary blinders, mouth firm and resolute, feet always attempting to keep up with the rest of the body. Yesterday I saw a homeless woman near the Bowling Green station calling out at the top of her shattered voice "Oh God, Oh God." And still the people around her kept up the pace, as well as their distance.
Everyone here is selling something. If you're not selling, you're buying. If you're not buying or selling, you're observing both practices through osmosis and routine. The corporations, the advertisements, the corner stands and transportation stops call out to the consumer. I wonder if I understand to some degree, why Islamic terrorists believe that every day America sells its soul. McDonalds! Calvin Klein! DKNY! Lexus! JLo's New Clothing Line! Oh the advertisements! Inescapable they penetrate the passerby. Fully inspired by my love for America I wonder where is the Democracy! Freedom! Liberty! Rights! and Opportunity for All! These themes and dreams I felt I breathed so deeply in D.C. The contagious air of awareness and enlightenment eludes me here.
Yet just as I began to think, this was a mistake, a movement today caught my eye. A woman unaware of my interest in her life, pulls out her camera. Rather than taking aim at the skyscrapers and walls of metal that shoot towards the sun, she motions for her two children to stand next to each other. As she freezes a moment of her two boys, I smile as well. Turning, I notice a couple walking hand in hand. On another corner stands a group of school children chatting away. In the park a man strokes his dog and both man and beast smile in each others' company. Reassured that I am not the only warm blood in this city I banish the idea of mistakes in my mind and promise to give New York City and myself more of a try.
