My New York Stories - Part 2 of many

I’ve written quite a bit about my stay in New York, the reasons I love it etc. It’s been almost 9 months since I returned from my 15 month stint in the city and as I get ready to go back next week, there are so many memories and expectations I am taking with me. Hopefully not leading to disappointment. If you haven’t read Part 1 of My New York Stories, this isn’t really a sequel ….

‘Twas the day before Thanksgiving. It had been less than two months since I had moved into my apartment on 75th Street by Central Park West. Although I knew that the Macy’s Thanksgiving parade was a really big deal, I had never been interested enough for even a television viewing during the years that I had lived in Chicago.

My friend Saloni was visiting me in New York for the week and it was past 10 pm. We had just gone through most of a bottle of wine and even though we had had an exhausting day, we were starting to feel like we needed to do something. Saloni suggested that we go out and continue exploring the city. To me ‘going out’ was always a good idea although I did warn her that the city would probably be dead since most people would have left to be with their families to celebrate the holiday.

As we came out of the brownstone apartment building we saw a sight that we were completely unprepared for. There were people everywhere. A sea of people. Swarms of them. Thousands and thousands of humans. Saloni and I looked at each other and burst into peals of laughter. We laughed until there were tears rolling down our eyes. I suspect it was mostly the effect of the liquor that made us laugh at a sight that was so unexpected. I had no clue why there were so many people in my neighborhood and I absolutely had to find out. As we continued to stare at the magnitude of people and realized that there was a line of sorts, there was also no possibility of us getting through the bodies to see what was at the end of it.

A few minutes later, upon questioning, an employee of the NYPD informed me that the floaters and balloons were being inflated for the parade the next morning on 76th Street. And that the parade would be starting just a block away from where I lived. These crazy people around me were here to get a preview of Big Bird, Herbie and Dora. All tourists of course, people I would have nothing to do with. So I grabbed Saloni’s arm and walked towards the opposite direction. I was a New Yorker. I had my pride and I wasn’t about to indulge in any kind of tourist activity! Besides, we were going to be seeing the parade the next morning anyway.

We eventually parked ourselves on a bench outside the Haagen Dazs parlor on Columbus Avenue and began ‘people watching’. Which I may add is one of the most entertaining and fascinating time killing activities in New York City. We decided to play a game where we would segregate the locals from the tourists. We had no way of confirming if we were right or wrong but to us it seemed pretty clear cut. The tourists were dressed in bright colors, clunky gym shoes, wearing coats that were either several seasons out of style or completely not cool. Their children were dressed in pinks and baby blues. On the other hand, the local kids dressed like their parents, in stylish grown-up overcoats, boots and most importantly wearing an urban attitude. No holding their parents hands, no whining for ice cream. Just minding their own business and checking out the sights.

Although the night that I’ve just described may not seem extraordinary, the fact is that it was no ordinary night for me. Just as each day that I spent in the city, I discovered that it had at least one more interesting and unexpected characteristic. All I had to do was to keep my senses focused. And recognize these traits.

There is always a story to tell, a talent to watch, some people to meet or just the city to view. The multitude of races that live in near-perfect harmony. All the things that give New York City the character that it has are endless. It’s up to each one of us to recognize and indulge in them. Maybe my eyes saw things that weren’t really exceptional to a pair in someone else’s head. Maybe my heart made the ordinary seem extraordinary. Whatever the case may be, next week as I go back to the city that I love so dearly, I feel that I will become one with it. I may just be one in a few million that I share the space with. But my experiences will be distinctive and the time I spend with New York will be ‘specially’ mine.