One night I had a dream my parents picked up all our belongings and moved us upstate. We relocated to a small town surrounded by miles and miles of trees. In this town there was one big supermarket, one high school, and everyone knew everybody else’s name and everybody else’s business. I cried and fought and begged with my parents to move back. I wanted to move back to Queens where it’s scary to walk alone at night. To Queens where the buses don’t come on time, but run on sporadic schedules put together by bored drivers. And most importantly I wanted to simply be in New York City, I wanted to be back in the loudness, back in the smelliness of it all.
I finally awoke from my nightmare, and my misery quickly dissipated. I was in Queens, it was five in the morning, and I could hear the low, heavy hum of the Q84 as it chugged past my bedroom window. Perfect.
As you can tell, New York City is easily my Eden. I love this place. I love visiting Times Square and watching the tourists “ooh” and “ahh” over the buildings I’ve seen a bajillion times. I love visiting Central Park and watching the classy Manhattan residents picking up after their dogs. I even appreciate the homeless and the guilt they must instill in us in order to get through the days.
I love you New York.
I love your potholes. I love your streetlights, I love your trains and your buses. I love your yellow cabs, your dollar cabs, and all your other shady cabs. I love your brightly lit plazas and your dark side streets. I love your cute convenient delis, and the foreign, friendly owners who work inside. I love your bold, obnoxious teenagers. Even the way they heckle and jeer on the buses, I especially love the way they jeer. Because they’re careless, because they’re fearless.
I love you New York.
I love your market places. I love the way your venders argue non-stop on the price of mangoes: “two for five dollars.” I love the colorful scarves for sale on the streets of Brooklyn, and the hats from the carts in Flushing, and the gloves outside Queens Center. I love the books sold by the friendly old men outside the Metropolitan Museum. I love the fact that delicious shish kebabs are available almost anywhere.
And honestly New York, don’t mind what I said earlier. I really don’t mind walking alone at night that much, mace should solve mishaps that could happen in the dark. And if I ever miss a bus, another one will surely come no matter how late. Loudness is preferred. Smell pass. Because really…
I love you New York. <3
