30 mini-stories from my first 30 days in new york city
The first subway stop I exited from was 110th St / Central Park North. This was also the first place my feet touched above ground. It was raining.
The first thing I ate was a baconeggandcheese from a bodega at W 115th St & Frederick Douglass. It was okay. The conversation that ensued was better.
Part of my sublet arrangement was taking care of a cat while the owner was away. The cat scratched me. Drew blood. When I was just trying to feed her.
My first roof was on Eldridge St. I could see the Manhattan bridge. I could see One World Trade. I could see the sunset. I wish I could go back.
My first time smoking weed was with an antique shop owner. I had known him for less than fifteen minutes.
I was on the subway, when a mom came over to me and started speaking spanish. I babbled unproductively for a few moments. She clearly needed help, and while I wanted to, my attempts weren't good enough. Someone else came over, "I know spanish", and took over the conversation. She later told me they were refugees. She was pretty.
I overheard a conversation on the street between an ostensibly homeless man and an ostensibly more well off man passing by. "How's your father?"; inaudible; "He's strong. He'll get through this."
I was sitting on a bench by a lake in central park sometime after 11pm. A man walked by, and sat on the same bench. This bench was a solid 25 feet long, so we were close, but not that close. He started watching something on his phone. I recognized some names. I walked over and asked him what he was watching. "Have you heard the story of Jesus?" I watched the movie with him for a bit. It was a interesting story.
I cleaned a cat's litterbox for the first time in my life.
I met a man from craigslist in the Upper West Side to buy eclipse glasses. We talked how he wished his son was more excited about the upcoming cosmic event.
I took an Amtrak from Penn Station. I consider myself to be above average at navigating transit stops, but boy was this hard. And stressful. I sprinted with my suitcase. I boarded the train with 6 minutes to spare.
I was getting thai food with a friend. A girl with her back to us at a table nearby dropped something. A waiter came by and returned it to her. It was a pre-roll. I noticed her friend was very pretty. After we finished our meal, I went over to ask the pre-roll girl if she had a dispensary recommendation, but mostly for the possibility of talking to her very pretty friend. Pre-roll girl warmly and earnestly responded to my dispensary question. She was even prettier than her friend.
I realized that most parks here aren't really parks. They're concrete or cobblestone plazas with benches. And sometimes they might be some trees or some flowers in a fenced off area.
I bought 3 enormous zucchini for $1.50 from some guy on the street. They tasted great.
The first broadway show I saw was Hell's Kitchen. It was incredible. I got my tickets for a steep discount at the last minute booth. I had an extended conversation with the man next to me. He thought I was a good listener. He gave me his contact information. He invited me to visit him on Staten Island. He books gigs for opera singers across the country. He was older than my dad.
I moved from Harlem to Chinatown. I rode the subway, and transferred at 42nd St. It took me one trip.
I got indian food with a friend for my birthday. It was delicious. We got $5 beers at a "bar" nearby. They were delicious. On the way home I passed some people playing mahjong. I learned they play every week.
I went on a run across the Brooklyn bridge. Pedestrian slalom. I returned across the Manhattan bridge. Much better. I thought about the piece of my heart in San Francisco and the voice notes we exchanged my last time on this bridge. The subway is aggressively thunderous.
I met someone in Alphabet City to buy their office chair. I took it home on the bus.
I went back to the bar where I saw people playing mahjong. I joined their game. I walked away with a few wins, but more importantly, I walked away with perhaps some early wisps of friendship.
I got sushi by myself. It was peaceful. Which was much needed. A guy at the table next to me was wearing a sweatshirt with simply the OVO owl. I paid him a compliment while he was leaving.
I talked to a stranger at a bar. He was pretty uninteresting. Or perhaps not in the mood for a conversation. The bar was a little loud for my taste, not sure if I'll return.
I got six delicious steamed pork buns for five dollars in the basement of a chinatown "mall". The sort of place where an employee is sitting at a table next to you putting filling in dumpling wrappers. The sort of place where young children are running about and playing. I'll definitely return.
I went back to mahjong night. The friendship wisps might be starting to solidify. But slowly. Patience is hard.
I ran through Prospect Park. I tripped on a branch. It hurt. I got up and kept running. I got lost. I found my way out. I listened to the Chainsmokers. I listened to Kevin Gates. I listened to Thomas Rhett. The last whispers of sunset from the Manhattan bridge were heartbreakingly beautiful. Metaphors were everywhere, and I was reminded that nothing is permanent.
I conversed with a homeless person for over an hour. "I'm from Honduras when I'm sober, and I'm from Brazil when I'm drinking." I learned the difference between "paint" and "graffiti" -- at least in his mind. I listened to his story about giving a woman a tattoo for free and what happened after. His english wasn't great, but when I left he told me, "you have a good mind". Which is about the second highest compliment I'd be honored to receive.
I walked by a pizza place with an enormous line. I asked a group whether the wait was worth it. "Absolutely not". She was pretty. I moved closer to her. We chatted a little. Wow, what beautiful eyes. She offered me some of her pizza. It was good, but not worth waiting in line for. She was really pretty. I wonder if should have invited her to meet me somewhere later.
I spontaneously stopped for a drink at the coffee shop / bar I've been frequently lately. The owner asked me if I wanted to take a shot with him. This was my first "on the house" situation since moving here. Someone else who apparently knew the owner walked in around this time. All of us took the shots together. I spoke with this new person for a bit. The owner later brought over a beer. Not on the menu or anything, I think he just had it and wanted to share it. It was from some craft brewery in Brooklyn. This might be a friendship wisp forming.
I saw Dune 2 (again). I bought my ticket after the published showtime and low key ran to the theater. Nobody asked to see my ticket. 31 minutes of ads/trailers felt excessive. I need not have run. My seat was excellent, right in the middle. Such incredible visuals. Such incredible sound. Both of which adeptly contributed to the storytelling. I may watch it again, soon.
I sat in my tiny apartment and wrote this post. So much more happened, but 30 mini stories seems like a fitting cut off for my first month in new york city.