Heart of the City

The past week in New York was jarring to say the least. Though the city still makes me overwhelmed by even the smallest of tasks (where do you go to buy a pack of cards??), I have begun to slowly get used to the constant movement of the city and everything that comes with it. The sound of airplanes flying constantly from La Guardia over my apartment doesn't register any more. I can estimate how crowded the train will be based on what time I am leaving my apartment in the morning or TC in the evening. And although the feeling of always needing to do more still raises the specter of anxiety to make everything I do feel inadequate, I've become resigned to its presence to the point that it is part and parcel of the city itself.

Solitude is rare in the city, but last week
it was the norm

All of these things fell apart this week though, one by one, as another phantom seeped into our lives. Starting with an email from our college president that optimistically called off only non-essential events until the end of spring break, we felt the rumbles of change beginning. Then over the weekend classes were canceled for two days to give professors time to move their classes online. The university still presented this as a temporary situation but hinted that this set up could last longer than they expected. This email sent a cascade of changes for my schedule. There suddenly was no need to go out for classes and my appointments at the writing center all shifted to being online. I spent the most of the week at home.

It was in this time being stuck that the strong feelings of discomfort with being in New York returned. I panicked when I saw that scaffolding had gone up in front of my building, meaning that construction noise may be in our future. My neighbors suddenly became unbearably loud, stomping overhead. I was no longer sure about how to get food when I felt I should not be taking the subway and knowing there was a high likelihood that the shelves would be empty. The only constant was the gym and even that felt tenuous as I watched the number of people coming dwindle each day.

This discomfort was, I realized, because my comfort with New York has come not from anything special that the city offers. I don't care that there are endless options for places to see, or restaurants to go to or hidden opportunities. For me, the charm of New York is in the small human interactions that I see everyday and this unique situation has made people desire to either avoid interactions entirely or, if they must interact, make those interactions as brief as possible.

And so here are some of those New York moments that I will hold on to in the next few months because these remind me what makes this city worth living in (even if only temporarily).

1. I was in the A train feeling very cramped as the car was full of more people than it really could carry. Normally there was a rhythm to when the train emptied and when it was full. This time, it seemed that more people got on at every stop, with the car becoming unbearable. And despite the heat in the car, the AC did not seem to be working so we were all sweating. At the third stop after I got on, a women stood up, looked at another older woman who had entered the train a stop earlier, and gave her seat saying "Share the wealth, right?"

A normal, crowded summer day in Central Park

2. While running along Riverside Drive, I discovered a new path that led away from the main sidewalk that I ran on. I followed it and followed a walkway that led down, closer to the water. At the bottom of this walkway was a basketball court and I saw a large group of men on it. I presumed they were playing basketball and continued running until I was closer to them. That was when i heard the Latin music and noticed that it was a group of young men but they were not playing basketball. They were learning how to dance on a Saturday morning.

3. Central Park is one of my favorite places to run. I love being surrounded by trees and, even with the skyscrapers that loom through them, it feels like an oasis from the grimy city. Plus, there are always plenty of runners to keep you motivated. On one particular weekend run, I found myself running alongside runners in a 5K race. The race organizers had designated one of the three lanes for the race so I stayed on the right to give the runners room. Once I reached the fork that signaled to me to turn around and go back, I began running against the pack of runners, which had grown significantly since the speedy ones were far ahead. A man ahead of me was running as well, both of us being careful to stay as far on the left as possible to give the growing pack of runners a wide berth. This man though was pushing a double stroller with twins in it. As a racer came by, he gave the father a cheer and said "you're doing great, man!"

Solidarity, NYC version

These are the small moments of human interaction that make New York function. They are on the sidewalks, in public places, on the subway. They are moments that brighten the receivers heart, if for a moment. When added up, those moments become the heart of the city.