** As a prelude to this post: I am adjusting quite well to the hustle and bustle of life in New York City - and I've only been here for two weeks!!! It's amazing. I've met brilliant and wonderful people, and I am having so much fun in my internship. More posts about my adventures in the city are to come, but I thought I'd post this little story I wrote on Tuesday: the city had itself a little snow storm the night before, and that day I walked to work in a snow globe! **
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January 21, 2014
On
My 11th Day in Manhattan
It is astonishing how a layer of snow can quiet this city.
It was just noon; hunched shoulders, peeping eyes, and
out-turned umbrellas replaced the loud bustle of shouts, laughter, and honking
that I had so quickly grown fond of.
But the quiet brought upon something else: awareness.
Not alertness – that “street smartness” my family keeps
reminding me about over the phone.
No. It was awareness of the stories behind the focused faces
of the street stompers.
I, myself, have been so focused stomping the street that I
forgot to look up.
But in the quiet, I listened. In the quiet, I looked.
Of course, I can’t stop everybody on the streets and ask
them about their lives – I’m not the HONY guy (although I do really want to
meet him!).
So I make up their stories.
On my 11th day in Manhattan, these are the people
that struck me as brilliantly interesting:
The tall, lean man with dark chocolaty skin who seems to
glide over the snow. Monochromatic; from his coat to his bag to his umbrella.
He has an air of elegance and majesty about him, even though he doesn’t seem to
sit in the lap of luxury. His face screams quiet determination and pride, but
not arrogance. Perhaps he is in the arts, perhaps business, perhaps medicine;
whichever craft he calls his own, he excels in it. Colleagues commend him,
family members revere him, but he takes every compliment with grace and
humility.
White fur coat, leather legging, heeled boots, bright red
lips, dyed blonde hair (straight bangs), chunky sunglasses and a matching purse.
Fashion District woman. Or maybe she was once
a Fashion District hopeful. There
was something about this 40-something that was slightly off – like she was
trying too hard to be fashion forward. Perhaps it would be better to say the
“forward fashion” of another time period. A hopeful among so many hopefuls. A
woman who settled here at a young age and just had to stay. Just had to make it
somehow. And now she’s trudging through the snow in heeled boots (which is
freakishly difficult, by the way – so I commend her for that!).
The greasy young man sitting on a high stool in the window
of his flashy, touristy, (probably) knock-off brand shop; his face wrapped in a
tatty scarf, gloved hands cross under his armpits, only his eyes peeping out
(even though he’s indoors). Staring at anyone who would stare back (myself
included). Lurking. Waiting for someone to come in and buy “everything $9.99!”
As I broke his piercing gaze, I thought, “He probably hates his job.”
Two men arguing outside Port Authority on the corner of 42nd
and 8th Ave. One with a snowy bike helmet, the other with a street
salter. A bike that was allegedly chained to a post was toppled over and
covered in snow. Bike Helmet apparently thought that Street Salter did it. Now
Bike Helmet had to bike to work with a wet ass. Street Salter was just doing
his job – he “didn’t touch shit.” Everybody’s gotta work, right? (They were the
loudest ones on the street today).
When I realized I was looking at other people, I looked down
at myself – covered in fluffy snow, a skip in my step, and a goofy smile on my
face (which I had to repeatedly frown away -- nobody smiles when their stomping
the streets of NYC). What would people think of me? Is it obvious that I’m new?
Do I actually blend in? Do I look like I’m going places, that I’m living a
dream come true?
Who knows? But who cares?
As I shook off the snow inside the stage door, I had a
little epiphany.
Looking is just as important as listening. It’s the start.
To know someone is to truly see someone for whom they are – to understand, to accept,
to care. But you must genuinely see before you can genuinely listen; see
without judgment, stereotype, or assumption. It’s a very James Cameron’s Avatar epiphany – but hey, those blue
people knew a thing or two about living well.
On my 11th day in Manhattan, I hugged my fellow
production assistant – and newest friend – with more fervor than I did on my 10th
day.
On my 11th day in Manhattan, the great big Mecca-city
with a million faces turned into a tiny little snow globe.
On my 11th day in Manhattan, it felt like home.
