New York City - A Reflection of Us

This is my definitive answer to the question people ask me all the time: do you like New York City? 

Our opinions about the cities where we lived betray our opinions about ourselves during the time we spent there. Washington DC is comfortable; it feels like home. Los Angeles is fun, playful, and fake. Paris is beautiful and romantic. Amsterdam is Dr. Seuss land; it only lives in my imagination. New York City is… complicated. 

My NYC story begins with a Slice! Whoosh! Knockout!

The Slice.
It’s a bright summer day in Downtown Manhattan. The air is crisp, the sun shining. I’m walking with my shoulder held high and my nose even higher. I’m in my mid-20s, new to the Big City, fresh off the plane from my five year education into art, culture, food and work-life balance in Paris, France. It’s the day before my birthday and I’m hosting some of my oldest friends in my new apartment for an elaborate meal I would be preparing. The Chef has arrived!

Ten minutes in, I slice two of my fingers wide open with a chopping knife. There’s blood on the cutting board, the kitchen counter, and most importantly, on my ego. The fashionably late arrive to the party to chaos in the kitchen and to sounds of “how bad is it?” and “should we take him to the hospital?”

The Whoosh.

I’m rushed to a nearby hospital. In the waiting room, my hand is wrapped in paper towels. I sit in the corner of the room with my elbows on my knees and my head down like I’m in the ring with Mike Tyson. But, all that is bruised is my pride. I listen to the noises from outside the room. Phones ringing. The buzzing of other peoples’ emergencies. My friend, Mikey, flirting with one of my girlfriend’s girl friends. Thomas on the phone making other plans for his day. Life moves on quickly in NYC.

The Knockout.

Only one doctor available. His name is Dr. Sung. He’s going to take care of me.

One look at my hand and next thing I know, I’m lying parallel, on a stretcher, six feet above the ground, awaiting the anesthetic that would take me somewhere listless where I’ve never gone to before.

I wake up dazed and confused with my adrenaline wearing off, my arm limp in a cast.

It’s dark outside now. I walked home in the pouring rain. It was late and I was craving a McDonalds cheeseburger…Happy Birthday to me.

We’re not in Paris anymore.

Post surgery, I found myself in a tough place mentally and emotionally; my life was not going according to plan. The rehab sucked and progress was slow. What health insurance? The most difficult part was dealing with doctors and practitioners who seemed to be elsewhere, too overwhelmed by their workload to care about me, a single patient who was stressed, confused, and drowning in medical bills.

I blamed New York City.

I blamed the city for having too many people, for my entanglements with the United States healthcare system, and most of all, I blamed New York for being fun and lively at a time when I didn’t even want to leave the house.

The contradiction of life in Manhattan

Manhattan takes on a very different character when viewed from a distance as opposed to when experienced closely. For example, Manhattan boasts the absolute most beautiful skyline ever created...when viewed from Brooklyn. 

Observed closely, Manhattan is rough, gray, boisterous, chaotic. Pedestrians rush and cars swerve. Your eye flicker trying to capture it all. Lights flash and tell you to go. There is no time to enjoy the view.

I arrived wanting to admire it all. I would look up to the awe-inspiring skyscrapers, watching each building compete for its spot in the sky. Then quickly, I’d shoot my head down to avoid pedestrians. Back up again. Down again. I darted my head up and down as if watching an inverted game of tennis, not wanting to miss a thing until finally, I gave up and learned that it is best just to keep my eyes on where I’m going. 

Still, I came here with a romanticized hope for my life in the Big City. My favorite movies and shows like A Rainy Day in New York and The Marvelous Mrs. Maizel portrayed the city with such quirky, romantic charm that I got tricked into believing this could be my day-to-day experience of living in New York.

In reality, most casual interactions consisted of people who were either too absorbed in some problem from earlier that day or distracted, thinking about the future and the next party, event or opportunity.

New York City is a Point A to Point B city, leaving very little room for what’s left in between.

New York City as a reflection of me

I am very critical of New York City because of how my experience there started. But, I don’t know if any city has ever taught me so many lessons in such a short period of time. I grew a business there. I ran 1,000 miles for charity there. I broke into industry there (and broke out of it too). The irony of it all is that I underwent my spiritual awakening there. In the most unlikely of places, I was forced to turn inward and figure out how to be ok with being alone in the world.

I sometimes wish there were more public spaces to sit and the Parisian in me will never enjoy being rushed at a restaurant to make room for the next table, but there is no doubt that New York City will forever be part of my grit and my spirit.

So how do I feel about the city itself? It really depends on my mood. It’s a “you-get-what-you-put-in” type of place.

New York City brings out whatever is already in you… for better or for worse.