Let Me Introduce Myself

The start of any relationship begins with an introduction of sorts. I'll start by introducing you to my New York which is different from anybody else's really, as my NYC spans from my prodominantly Hispanic neighborhood of Washington Heights to the amazingly interesting and affordable streets of Chinatown. From here to there, large gaping holes of unknown avenues and street names mock and confuse directionally dysfunctional saps like me so that one wrong turn has me dialing my father in tears to pick me up because I'm lost and emotionally distraught.

My NYC likes to remind me that as a New Yorker I should know where I'm going and that if I don't, I'm doomed to circle the same block over and over until something looks familiar. It keeps me company when I walk immensely long downtown avenue blocks in the wrong direction and have to cross the street in hopes that no one notices me doubling back. My NYC is the nagging voice in my ear telling me to look unimpressed at the hot protruding light of Times Square or the bohemian chic feel of Union Square. It's what tells me to put on an English accent when I absolutely HAVE TO ask an officer for directions.

Quite frankly, it can be a bit of a bully.

But... it can also be the best companion you could ask for. When you're upset and need to think things through, to cool off, New York gives you miles and miles of park and sidewalk and street to walking, bike, drive, sit, read a book on. It forces you out of your comfort zone until you're sitting in a hot metal box smelling of damp air and sweat next to someone you would've never met, or spoken to, and half the time wish it would've stayed that way. It challenges you to be different in a city full of individuality and people who will put you down because they think everyone should be different in the same way. And it laughs in your face when you fall off your skateboard and eat asphalt or when a yellow cab drives too close to the curb and drenches you in dirty gutter water.

New York may be a lot of things but it is not without a sense of humor.

And its easy to feel overwhelmed and want to get away. Hell, I spend hours dreaming of impossible escapades in cleaner, more traditional, and romantic cities in Europe where the people will be hotter, the scenery more romantic, and the alcohol something akin to the nectar of the gods. But the only place that would get my cynicism, my ambition, my dislike of inconsequential small talk, my need to wear black almost every day, my unearned confidence is New York. My New York.

But New York is more than just most of the West Side and the Upper East side. It's more than just Manhattan. It's made up of all these other limbs: Brooklyn, the Bronx, Queens, and the ever under appreciated Staten Island - places I rarely travel to because of my comfort with Manhattan, the heart of New York, what people call "The City".

Eventually I'm sure I'll travel to these outer boroughs, finding good places to eat, cheap bars, obscure train lines, worthwhile band venues... until then, let me know about your New York.