She

...about the City, the relationship with Her and a Monday evening in July

I’m out with friends and we’ve just met these nice Australian travelers. We join them for a drink at a random East Village speakeasy. It’s way too early for a bar, the room is empty and unusually quiet for a New York drinking spot. The silence is welcome for a change, as I don’t have to yell at my speaking partner from the bottom of my lungs. Beginning a conversation with strangers will often gravitate around jobs, weather, sights of New York. These girls are way too cool for small talk. I’m happy we skip that screening process and strike a more real conversation about a different aspect of the city. One of them comments on her observation about how people, who live in New York, speak about it as if it’s a being, a She that they have a relationship with, and everything a person goes through - break ups, auditions, spiritual trips, euphoria, rage, fear - it’s all part of that relationship. Her words stick with me. I do refer to the city in a similar way. There is just so much intensity to living in New York that after all the names of people have worn out of our consciousness, after all the buzz has quieted down, after all the visitors have left, She is still here, somehow unchanged in her overall existence. While skimming through my journal, I found this piece written not long ago, when New York and I flirted through the Summer, and I scribbled some words to describe what a simple Monday Night can turn into in the city. Adventures are never too far, if you keep your eyes and heart open, because that’s what She does.

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The View of 2 Bridges - Manhattan & Brooklyn bridge

Nothing in this city happens out of pure luck or simply by chance. Everything is connected, where it wants to be - the subway, the people, even the inevitable heat in July has a sense of belonging. They are all part of a most complex living and breathing organism, a powerful creature that becomes a part of you the moment you set foot on the island. The stories of strangers become your memories, their zest for life and success becomes your thirst, your affair with the city becomes another heartfelt romance for the books.

It’s just Monday somewhere else in the world. People buy food at the supermarket, talk about taxes, discuss the neighbourhood gossips or maybe the latest movie they’ve seen. But not in New York. The city grabs you by the hand and pulls you closer to her beating heart. And it’s throbbing with power that becomes your drug.

“I know it’s warm” She whispers playfully in your ear “But follow me” adding with another promiscuous giggle.

It’s after dark already, yet the heat is not letting go, so the only escape is at the embrace of the West Side breeze. The Hudson River, muddy and lazy, is licking the shore like a kitten. An old boat, docked in Chelsea, is rusting nonchalantly. They call it the Frying Pan for what it turns into on any given sunny day. But at night, when the Devil loosens his grip, you can sway on the boat in the slow jazz rhythm of the waves, under the lights of the thousand skyscrapers from Jersey to Midtown.

View of Jersey's skyline over the Hudson River

It’s getting late… Does it ever get late in New York? Is it ever too late for anything in here? Drunkenly She lures you to to visit the McKittrick Hotel. It’s not far and there is always some time for the McKittrick’s mystery. It’s not exactly a hotel - it’s one of those morphed creatures with a twisted face that can haunt you or excite you, depending on your emotional bearings. Your eyes are tired but you want to see what the fuss is all about. An elevator ride takes you to Gallow Green, the roof top bar of the establishment. The year 2015 can’t be found in here. Some smoky jazz lyrics have poised the air with desire and under the influence the lights of the city go dim. Plants have weaved their hair into the skeleton of this old brick building, making it look cosy. An old train car is tossed in the corner and serves as an extra dinner seating. A chain of lights is passing through it, spreading innuendo - sharp so to give couples the courage to touch, yet subtle enough to leave some mystery between them for later hours. The servers are looking way too good in their 1920s jackets and before you sink into the comfort of the aging evening, She grabs you by the hand again and rushes you to follow the music, down the stairs, into that hidden bar. You know the song, which the walls are humming. It’s old and sweet and the singer is pouring his voice into it:“And I think to myself, what a wonderful world…”

The corner table calls your name, a cocktail accompanies you for the next few songs. The 2 singers on stage are in a good mood. The lady is sassy and the gentleman couldn’t be more English, if he were paid for it. They are turning good tricks for a few laughs, talking and singing to a gentle rhythm. The hall is filled with the clinking of glasses.

Manderley Bar at McKittrick Hotel

The hours slip without searching for you. You suddenly realize all practical aspects of life have been forgotten - work, laundry, the weather. Where are we again? How did we end up here …on a Monday? Oh yes, I followed her...

She’s a special woman that one. There is so much for the heart to take in when you are with her. She can be cruel and dirty, and then turn around and transform into a sophisticated lady with the highest demands. She can rush you from the filthy streets of Lower East Side to the neatly arranged corners of Upper West, She can play with you like a child through the green drape of Central Park and abandon you for someone else on the corner of Houston and Broadway. You can live with her for 7 years and She will still erase your traces faster than footsteps on a beach. She promises nothing and gives you only the will to live with her now. You proclaim love and hate for her at the same time, get the best and the worst of you pulled, twisted and returned. E.B.White’s words echo through you. After so many things have changed, moved, been torn down, become obsolete and come back into fashion - his words unveil a bittersweet truth about New York - a face you get to see clearly from under all the noise, chase, rush, will, yearning, ambiguity, redemption:

“It can destroy an individual, or it can fulfill him, depending a good deal on luck. No one should come to New York to live unless he is willing to be lucky.”

And after all is done, after you’ve chased her ghost through the streets, maybe you will find your true self somewhere within her as well. Isn’t it why so many of us come here - to find that special Something? And maybe some details will fade away along the journey, maybe you will forget the name of the rusty boat or the hotel that is not really a hotel, but you will hopefully never forget how the City made you feel, when She grabbed you by the hand and pulled you into the night, into the heat of July ...and it was only Monday.

View of Midtown Skyline from Ink48 Hotel

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