New York Stories, Part III
Memorial Day weekend in NYC 2010, as I said before, was a sort of homecoming. I had not been in the city since the summer of 2001, mere months before 9/11. That alone gave me much to chew on. Within 1/2 hour of landing, I rode right past Ground Zero. I felt a chill for a moment, but I suspect it would've been much more significant (at least in feeling) had I been back much sooner. Does that mean I'm numb? No, but time has a way of dulling the edges of pain, if not always memory.
My wife and I and family were in and out of Manhattan all weekend. We spent a lovely afternoon at Prospect Park in Brooklyn-an amazing site, bigger even than Central Park, I was informed. We hit pubs and restuarants, the usual events. Some really amazing cuisine. But, indeed, one can also have a bad meal in this world class city. Even me, an often realistic, cynical type, had forgotten this through romanticized memories. Korean spot, 1992, there were eyes floating in my broth! I do not make a practice of identifying eateries by name that disapoint me, but I have to say that just because you have great ambience, a cool name, and great aromas does not preclude a bad entree (I learned this in Seattle last year, too). I also had probably the worst dessert ever at an otherwise fabulous vegan place in Lower Manhattan. Note to the wise/curious: if "kanten" or "agar" are ingredients in your sweets, beware.
Late night wanderings around NYC years back was a dicey thing. Exciting but fearsome. That fear of whatever lurked was part of the energy. I would expect muggers to lurch out of every shadow. I was fortunate. Never attacked. Harrassed, panhandled, yes, but never touched. My mother's uncle once handed me a beat-up wallet with a $5 bill inside. "What's this," I asked. "Keep it in your front pocket, case you get mugged. You have something to give 'em." This was during my first solo visit to the city when I was in my early 20s. The crazy New York I had remembered from childhood was still there. On this trip, there was still the energy, but the dread was absent. It felt downright safe.
Actually, it has for awhile. I've often said I feel safer in New York than I do in parts of Miami. I still stand behind that. NYC just seemed mellower to me. Maybe the city was irrevocably changed after Sept. 11. When I said as much to my wife's cousin (longtime Queens resident) on this trip, she shrugged and said, "Nah. Maybe things quieted down for 2 weeks after, but it's been business as ususal since."
Maybe it was because fewer people were in town for the holiday weekend. Maybe I'm just not as spooked by things as I once was. But NYC was a very different animal this time. After a disastrous attempt to live there in '96, I almost completely fell out of love with it. I'm happy to report that while we're taking it slowly, we've decided to occasionally date again.
My wife and I and family were in and out of Manhattan all weekend. We spent a lovely afternoon at Prospect Park in Brooklyn-an amazing site, bigger even than Central Park, I was informed. We hit pubs and restuarants, the usual events. Some really amazing cuisine. But, indeed, one can also have a bad meal in this world class city. Even me, an often realistic, cynical type, had forgotten this through romanticized memories. Korean spot, 1992, there were eyes floating in my broth! I do not make a practice of identifying eateries by name that disapoint me, but I have to say that just because you have great ambience, a cool name, and great aromas does not preclude a bad entree (I learned this in Seattle last year, too). I also had probably the worst dessert ever at an otherwise fabulous vegan place in Lower Manhattan. Note to the wise/curious: if "kanten" or "agar" are ingredients in your sweets, beware.
Late night wanderings around NYC years back was a dicey thing. Exciting but fearsome. That fear of whatever lurked was part of the energy. I would expect muggers to lurch out of every shadow. I was fortunate. Never attacked. Harrassed, panhandled, yes, but never touched. My mother's uncle once handed me a beat-up wallet with a $5 bill inside. "What's this," I asked. "Keep it in your front pocket, case you get mugged. You have something to give 'em." This was during my first solo visit to the city when I was in my early 20s. The crazy New York I had remembered from childhood was still there. On this trip, there was still the energy, but the dread was absent. It felt downright safe.
Actually, it has for awhile. I've often said I feel safer in New York than I do in parts of Miami. I still stand behind that. NYC just seemed mellower to me. Maybe the city was irrevocably changed after Sept. 11. When I said as much to my wife's cousin (longtime Queens resident) on this trip, she shrugged and said, "Nah. Maybe things quieted down for 2 weeks after, but it's been business as ususal since."
Maybe it was because fewer people were in town for the holiday weekend. Maybe I'm just not as spooked by things as I once was. But NYC was a very different animal this time. After a disastrous attempt to live there in '96, I almost completely fell out of love with it. I'm happy to report that while we're taking it slowly, we've decided to occasionally date again.
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