After spending a week in New York City, the most unexpected feeling I had walking into my apartment here back in Barbados was the sense that I had been away for months, and not just 7 days.
Maybe it was due to how much running around I did while in NYC — including 5 medical appointments in as many days, and not only in Manhattan — but it did take a beat or two to get my bearings of where everything was in my apartment and where everything from my luggage went back to. An hour or so of finding my rhythm and letting people know that I was back home safely, I looked forward to finally resting/sleeping off a very painful chronic pain week (second in level, degree, and amount of pain only to the second week post-second spine surgery). I slept for nearly 12 hours.
Being back in NYC was informative. As I’ve already related to a few friends, it was much like visiting an old girlfriend — I was reminded of what attracted me to her in the first place, but after some time was also reminded of why we had to part ways. We’ve evolved in ways that have made us less compatible. And I’m okay with that. I will always consider myself a NYer or origin and makeup, understanding that my personal history is that of a New York City of different, era-specific vibes. And I’m not only a NYer of the ‘60s, ‘70s, ‘80s, ‘90s, and ‘00s — all with their unique and individual identities — but of the Park Avenue cliques of my prep school classmates, the artsy and seedy Village enclaves of of my college roommates, and the ghetto sensibilities of the communities I shared with family and neighbors growing up.
But even with those figuratively genetic bona fides, this NYC I visited was both foreign and familiar, with the familiar parts confirming why I first imagining leaving NYC as early as just after the tun of the millennium. Not that the city, even now, post-Covid, doesn’t have it charms and shiny baubles — there seems to be a somewhat healthy return to some of the sights and activities that have famously given Gotham its storied energy. But I found those charms ever more so only available to those with more wealth, influence, or connections than the average city denizen. For a majority of the people who live here, the general, default frame of mind seems to be that of ennui, malaise, or resignation. Accepting that the city is over-populated yet under-staffed, accepting that it’ll cost $30 and 20 minutes of your time to travel 10 blocks in a cab during rush hour, accepting that playing “phone prompt Bingo” while trying to get to a customer rep on the phone can eat up a half hour of your time just to get disconnected — is not healthy spiritually and a burden on the psyche mentally. But it’s all become normalized (I’m kind of tired of this word as well but defend tht it’s apt here), all of that is just “Tuesday” in the city.
People continue to *hustle* here — working 50/60/70 hour weeks (and weekends) — just to break even, just to get by until the next paycheck. And if they’re not patting themselves on the back for the “hustle”, they have decided to take the opposite tack and do as little as possible since they feel they’re being paid as little as possible. (And they are often not wrong for believing that.)
And I had indeed forgotten how loud it is in NYC. Of course when you have a city that so overcrowded you have to layer them one atop the other in sky-scraping buildings, a bit of quiet while out in public will be a little hard to come by. But topping loud talkers with construction noise, car honks, dogs barking, that cacophony really becomes the true “song of New York City”.
When I started to realize years ago the *weight* of plain everyday living in NYC that was plaguing my spirit, I started to understand that for me, this was no way to live. (Curiously enough, three nurses completed agreed with me, while two of the doctors they worked for defended that things weren’t “that bad”.) Even though I intentionally make public mention that I would be in NYC is my visit was primarily to see doctors and there would be scant time to socialize, I barely was able to make those appointments, and the three of the four people I had hoped to squeeze in a visit to I was never able to reach, which most sadly included Da Neph, who I was hoping to see before his 8th birthday next week.
New York City is still a great gal who has a lot to offer, but as I’ve become older a bit more tired, I was right to realize that the city eventually became a bit too high maintenance for me. So much going on again in the city now, and a lot to offer still, she may be again the city that never sleeps. But I’m an older guy who often naps now. I will always have love for New York — she helped make me the man I am today. We grew up together, and just because we eventually grew apart it doesn’t mean that we’re not still very good friends, who still have love *for* each other, if no longer *in* love with each other. We spent months apart until this past week, coming back to Bim made that week feel more like months, which I guess confirms I’m now in the relationship that better suits me.
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