New to New York

Some half-baked thoughts on my first trip to the Big Apple

A food critic would never pen a review of an Italian restaurant from smelling the linguini, and it would be just as ignorant to write about a place as big as New York City without adequate research, reflection, or time embedded within the culture. But first impressions hold their own value, not because of accuracy, but ephemerality. You only lose your virginity once. You only get to see New York for the first time, once. So with the throat-clearing caveat that my scope was limited to a 72-hour stint in a city of 9 million, and my opinions will likely change upon my second trip (and there will be a second trip), allow me to plow ahead with the confidence and resolve you can only find in New York.

Time is Measured in Seasons, Because You Can’t See Sunsets

Oh, New Yorkers love their seasons. The auburn maple leaves in fall, the first winter snow, even the lethal summer heat. Whenever my girlfriend and I mentioned that we lived in LA, the response veered into a romantic sonnet on the changing of seasons, and how each one punctuates the passage of time with its own unique signature. I get it. The extreme shifts in weather would give way to the feeling of reinventing yourself every three months. New outfits. New colors. New lease on life. They incessantly talk about seasons, I’ve decided, because unless you’re on top of the Empire State building, it is difficult to mark the moment day turns to night.

Like the arrival of plastic bottle caps on milk cartons, no one knows exactly when that happened—it just sort of did.

New Yorkers assume that Californians live in an atmospheric twilight zone, a balmy numbness they clearly associate with hell. But the truth is we just measure time in sunsets, because seasons are hardly noticeable. Ask any Californian about the green flash and we’ll show you an iPhone album of our top five. We believe the clock restarts every 24 hours, which explains our pollinash tendencies. “It’s a new day!” was surely a phrase invented in California. New Yorkers, on the other hand, understand time in three month increments, which is why the closest they get to sounding like a Hallmark gift card is when they say, “T’is the season to do molly.”

(No one says that. I just made it up.)

Disagreeable. Not Mean.

I did not run into one asshole. Per capita, it was the most linguistically engaged culture I had ever seen, full of interesting conversations and colorful perspectives. I also did not meet one affable New Yorker. That is to say, they are comfortable telling you when you’re wrong, (which happened often). A fervent discussion in the coliseum of ideas is more important than humoring your half-baked drivel. Thus, phrases like, “Totally, uh-huh, interesting, and I like that,” are not part of the lexicon. This can be jarring if you’re used to the “Yes and…” culture of California, where people blend—not assert—their agenda into conversations. Aikido versus Karate. Maybe this is why creative endeavors that require a great deal of dreaming: Apple, Hollywood, etc., tend to start in California. But ones that thrive on razor sharp wit and attention-grabbing conflict—Comedy, news, and advertising—are best executed in New York.

Subways Won

The New York subway system is embarrassingly superior to anything in California. $2.50 to go anywhere in the city. Stations every few blocks. Simple, color-coded rail lines. So easy I only got lost once! Okay, twice. This musky, serpentine labyrinth allows you to touch every part of the city, not remain locked in your neighborhood, as is the case in most populated California cities.

It’s a tragic irony that cars were invented to help us get around, but now they clog our roads like gelatin.

Beyond speed and savings, the multi-cultural aspect of the subway system can’t be overstated. The brain has a way of forgetting about things we don’t see on a daily basis—including people. The New York subway system is used by virtually every class and creed. From Wall Street bankers to homeless veterans, musicians to municipality workers. When you’re shoulder to shoulder with twenty different cultures, it forces an invaluable shared experience, if only for a few stops.

Parting Thoughts

I’ve heard people say New York is dead, that it’s too expensive for anyone interesting to live there anymore. But as a first-timer, I have nothing to compare it to, so the shotgun blast of culture really was nothing I had ever experienced in an American city. Despite the cliche I had hoped to disprove, NYC really is the center of the world. The energy unparalleled. Now I’m on a plane back to California. I can’t wait to find a grassy knoll, and journal about my feelings while softly gazing at a bruised violet sunset.

Thank you New York.