New York City has an in-your-face quality that’s hard to define until you’ve been here and experienced it for yourself. No one is as angry and pissed off as depicted in the movies.* As much as it may seem, no one has a personal vendetta against you for being alive.** There are actually genuinely Nice People here who will give you directions (when asked) or assist you if you are in dire straits. However, The City is unrelenting. The City will kick you in the face and tell you that you’re in the way. The City has Stairs.
Stairs are everywhere here. They are how you get from one subway platform to another. They are how I get to my apartment. There are 99 steps between where I get off the train and the street level of my office. Every. Single. Morning. They are at the doorways of shops. They are at the entrances of bars. Stairs are the modus operandi of New York.
Can’t climb stairs? Too bad. The elevator has been used as a urinal by 17 homeless/drunk people. The escalator is broken. Schlep. Haul. Herniate.
New York glares you in the eye and dares you to complain about the stairs. To whom? Good luck. Anyone who looks official enough to complain to is definitely unofficial enough to tell you what you can do with your complaint. Save your breath. You’re going to need it for climbing the stairs.
*Disclaimer: there are a lot of New Yorkers. I have not met all of them.
**Disclaimer 2: Okay, this is New York. If it’s gonna happen, it’s probably gonna happen here. And has happened. And will happen again. Statistically it’s not gonna happen to you.
I have attached these photos because it’s Spring and the tulips in the park by my apartment are incandescently beautiful.
little girl in Gotham 