So instead I'm going to discuss something else. Something random that occurred to me in a cab ride on the way home Saturday night. It's a bit of a revelation to me:
Sometimes, albeit rarely, I find that I miss New York City.
And it usually happens when I'm sitting in a cab by myself in the middle of the night, headed home.
I miss NYC but not with the nostalgia of a former home or the desire to live there again. I miss it with the heartache of a love that has been lost and won't be found again.
And as odd as it sounds, I fell in love with New York City in a cab.
Picture this:
3 (or maybe 4 or 5) AM, the city is dark and as quiet as it allows itself to get. You might have had a fun night.
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| Near the end of days (Spring 2008). |
But either way, you're exhausted, a little too intoxicated, and all you want to do is click your heels and be home in bed. You're probably a little bit sad and as much as it hurts to admit it, lonely. So you catch a cab.
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| Because the thought of tackling the subways alone at 4AM seems daunting and a little bit scary. (Early days circa 2003/4? when the idea of straightening my hair still seemed fun). |
Because you're so tired, the minute your bottom hits the seat of the cab, you slump down low, knees hitting the back of the barricade in front of you, head pushing back against the seat. And because this was before the days of smart phones, you find yourself with nothing to do but gaze up and out the window, contemplating the woes of your always-overwhelming NYC day.
As you look up, you begin to notice the tops of the buildings as the towers blur by. Cruising through the streets of midtown, you begin to sit up a little, watching the scenes that speed through your little window frame. Then suddenly, you're entering Time's Square, and since you're in a cab in the middle of the night instead of being suffocated between crowds on the sidewalks in the middle of the day, you actually feel a little awe struck by all the lights. And you realize that the woes of your day are the last thing on your mind.
You continue south, encroaching on the Village. And as you get deeper into it, you watch the buildings change. They grow smaller, look a little older, express more character. You imagine being here in the 80's. When the subways were covered in graffiti, the world was a little bit rougher and life may have been tougher. When Roger and Mimi were struggling through their AIDS-tainted romance and Mark was video-documenting everything with his hand crank camera (because the 80s in NYC were exactly like Rent).
You swing by Washington Square Park, marveling at the well-light arch, wondering why haven't ever researched more about the amazing things that happened here.
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| This isn't the arch at night, but you can use your imagination here. |
Continuing south, briefly through Soho, the cab takes a turn onto Delancy to head east. And it's here that you picture what it was like before there was an upper Manhattan. Before there were numbered streets, when the gangs were in charge. Gangs that survived at the tip of a knife, not the barrel of a gun. Your mind jumps from Newsies to A Winter's Tale to Gangs of New York in a disjointed lightening of scenes.
Then you feel the rise of the cab as it climbs onto the Williamsburg Bridge. You jerk your head around and take in the sight of Manhattan as you leave it behind. And here, you aren't consumed by history, but by the future and all that it has to offer. Because that is the promise of the city as you stare at it's skyline. It sucks people in and promises them a future where dreams are fulfilled, stars are born, and lives are lived full to brimming. When you can't see it anymore, the cab slips off the bridge into Brooklyn.
You slide back down into the seat. Knees touch the barricade in front of you, head slumped back against the seat. You smile. Because in the last 20 minutes you realized exactly where you are. You are in New York City. A city that lives and breathes it's own life. Full of the past, the future, and all the hopes, dreams and lives found in between. And whether those lives were happy or sad, whether those dreams were reached or abandoned, it doesn't matter. You are here. And that's kind of amazing.
At this moment, in the early morning as the sun begins to rise and you are ready for bed, you are in love with New York. And you can't even really articulate why. You sink down deeper in the seat, staring at the lights out the window and enjoy this moment of love.
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| College visits, 2001 (first time in NYC). |
Then the cab stops, you dig out some cash, and step out into the cold.
And the moment is gone.
You'll experience it again. A few weeks from now. A few months from now. And every time you do, you'll be amazed the you live in this city. Even after 6 years, it won't cease to amaze you.
Your dislike of the city will eventually outweigh these brief moments of love, and you will leave. Kind of like this:
You won't regret leaving and you won't want to go back.
But for the rest of your life, wherever you are, on lonely cab rides in the middle of the night, when you've had a little too much to drink, you'll remember 4 AM cab rides in NYC. And nothing will ever compare.
It will be those moments, those seldom and often forgotten brief moments, when you'll remember that you were once in love with NYC. And it will be in these moments that sometimes, on rare occasions, you'll miss New York City.
It will make you a little sad, but you'll be happy for the sadness. Because you lived there once. And New York City will always be a part of you. As much as you hate to admit it.
(And that will be why you'll cross your fingers every year for the rest of you life the day that the New York City Marathon announces it's lottery entries. Because it all come back to running, right?)
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