New York, I'm in Love with You
I used to think those I ❤️ NY shirts were so insipid. I've been to New York a couple of times and I've never found the city spectacular. The streets smelled like trash; the baristas rude; the beaches lacking, at least in comparison to the South and the West Coast. What a clever marketing scheme, I would think as I passed by another giddy European tourist in an I ❤️ NY shirt. Of course, how arrogant of me to think that I was somehow above others in avoiding mass advertisement.
This was my fifth time visiting the Big Apple. I'm afraid that I turned into one of those giddy tourists in an I ❤️ NY shirt. I fell in love with New York.
New York is an amalgamation of sleepy Queens suburbs and bustling Midtown gay clubs and bodega cats. Marxist artists and investment bankers ride the same train. New York is where one can hear Russian, Puerto Rican Spanish, and Cantonese being spoken at the same time. Once during my trip, a man stopped me on the street to ask for directions in Mandarin. I apologized for not knowing the language, to which then he switched almost seamlessly to Kansaiben.
And the people.
The gentlemen that I've had the pleasure to meet -- I am still thinking of you. I've been having fantasies about about sexy Kennedy after meeting her in LA, so when she returned from Paris to join an unforgettable ménage á trois, I felt myself explode. Firecracking Natalia, I don't know if I will ever recover from her piercing cat eyes and body that inspired a thousand sonnets in ancient times.
I wouldn't dare say that I now somehow get New York. But I do now feel a bit of longing toward the bustling lights of the Big Apple and the friends I have made there. I never understood why millions of people all over the world left all of their belongings and networks to plant themselves in this peculiar city -- now I do.
I love New York.