It was almost a surreal experience descending into the JFK airport. I’m not one for window seats, but there I was, shuffled to the side of the plane, face firmly pressed against the plastic pane, heart racing and smile widening as I took in the sight of Manhattan Island.
This was the city my lofty dreams were built upon; the ones drummed up by a precocious thirteen year old brimming with optimism, possibility and celebrity affectations. I wanted to live in a New York penthouse, prosper in a screenwriting career, marry a wind-surfing Australian blonde, reproduce some GAP-ad worthy kids and induce unprecedented hilarity as a guest on Conan O’Brien. So far, I’ve accomplished step #0.125 – I visited the city. Colour me lame.
I didn’t exactly stay in a luxurious New York penthouse either. Close though. I had the privilege of sleeping on the hardwood floor of my friend Derek’s unfurnished studio apartment, in the heart of Harlem. I also accidentally broke the chain lock on his door, but it’s okay because he lives in Harlem, a district synonymous with personal safety. Sorry, man. Just remember, I helped you build your IKEA bed and didn’t even get a chance to sleep in it.
That was my shout-out paragraph.
New York is blanketed with a pronounced version of every ingredient it takes to build a ultra-mega-metropolis city. Towering Wall Street skyscrapers and pristine business attire are the pinnacle of aspiration and wealth. Multi-storied Time Square billboards and the headquarter presence of almost every major media conglomerate creates a perpetual ground swell for consumption and self-indulgence. A subway train where a white man in an Armani suit sits next to a Latino single mother while a homeless Black man outcries for donations signifies both diversity and class division. Two small-framed Asians conspicuously walking through the streets of Harlem with a fan of shopping bags indicates a thriving population of stupid people. And the list goes on.
New York was a welcomed culture shock though. I expected the city to be cold and unforgiving. It wasn’t. It was actually 26 degrees and people responded with, “it’s okay” when I said, “sorry”. After lengthy walks through several avenues and random conversations with regular New Yorkers, I fell in deeper infatuation with the city. I could see myself living there, not forever, but for a definite period of time.
The final paragraph of the literary classic, The Great Gatsby, has always moved me
“Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgiastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that’s no matter- tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther…And one fine morning-”
“So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.”
New York is the metaphor for my eluding green light which in turn is my metaphor for everything New York is a metaphor for – the mesmerizing American Dream, feigning accessibility and attainability. I’m like Gatsby though. Even more so now, after my inaugural New York visit. I’m still rowing forward – each stroke harder than the last. Except, unlike my poor, fictional counterpart, I know (which is both endearing and tragic).
So as evidenced in this entry, when I’m not blogging about the random banalities of my life – I’m quoting classic literature to dissemble crazy smartness.
Finally, my trip concluded with the development a major crush on this guy. He’s actually my main reason for lusting after New York. I’m a sucker for skinny guys with messenger bags.
