New Yuck

I came to this city from the plain Midwest hating pickles. Eating olives literally made me gag. Like one time my mom had me try a small half of a black olive from a can and I threw it up into the garbage. It was super dramatic.

Cut to me in New York, in my 20s, living like a glowing pregnant savant, sampling all the city’s finest, briniest pickles and the saltiest olives at the best tapas spots.

Is there something about this city that makes you a pickle person? They even sell pickles on the street in the West Village out of a barrel from some guy who sits under a tent with barrels of pickles. Is that guy still there anymore? It’s usually in the summer and one time there was a man with a HUGE live pig in a cart outside the pickle barrel tent and I was like what the HELL is going on here, I need to get a picture of this. And the man with the pig chased me and my friend down the street and he literally told me to delete the picture from my phone or pay him $30 for the picture of his big pig in his cart. Me and my friend were incredulous. I was like, yeah sure, I deleted it. I of course did not. How often do you see a live wild boar on the streets of the West Village on a hot summer evening? Like, get out buddy. This was years ago, that pig probably has an Instagram now.

New York City holds 8.538 million people inside. So it’s always a wonder when you run into someone you know on the street. Seeing a familiar face unexpectedly here often feels like a mini miracle. Memories of unexpected encounters stay stuck in my memory, filed away as little moments of serendipity.

The Romantic Comedy Once I was waiting on the platform for a train, late to work, when I noticed an old boyfriend lugging a suitcase down the platform. The train was approaching the station and I was like I have a choice, I either just let this moment go, or I force something to happen. I had been curious about what this ex was up to you and not spoken to him in a bit, so I thought this was the universe telling me it was meant to be. So instead of getting in the car in front of me, I hustled and ran to the next train car where he was getting on. And then, I casually sauntered onto the train, not looking at him, waiting to see if he’d notice me. I stood across from him, pretending to be very interested in life in general and my deep thoughts I was faking, thinking, well if he doesn’t say anything to me, then that’s it, he doesn’t care. And then, immediately, he was like hey! hey Katie! Oh. And then we caught up and had a really warm chat for approximately two stops, where we both got off - him to head to another train station and me to head into work. It felt just like a romantic comedy! Until I walked to work and got let go by my bosses in a meeting. But up until then, it was JUST like Love Actually! A Love Actually where one person forces an interaction to happen!

The Celebrity Shortly before I moved to the city I was riding the train with a friend when there was a small commotion around me. I heard whispering and throat clearing. I looked up and noticed others suppressing trying to make a scene, but clearly pointing out to each other that there was in fact a celebrity on this train. At this time this person was a celebrity. And who was it riding the yellow line in Mid-Manhattan but none other than Chris Noth. I remember thinking eesh, maybe that SATC money is drying up. Anyway, he was just sitting there reading, minding his own business. When I exited the train with my friend and a few others, we erupted. This lovely, flamboyant man next to us burst into conversation and was like “Yasss, that was just MR. BIG riding our train, ladies.” I was so enraptured at the time with this magical moment. A real live celebrity on my N train. Mr. Big! I snort now thinking of this, but it was still cool. The Hookup (with his new hookup) One night I rode the train home and this annoying guy next to me kept murmuring to the girl next to him with his arm around her in this weird, drunk voice and it was really bothering me until I looked over and was like oh, I dated that guy and broke up with him because I found him super annoying. Anyway, he had a new girl with him, much younger than me. And despite me sitting directly next to him, he seemed to never notice who I was. So I just sat there listening to the annoying drunk mumble the whole ride home while she giggled. Then I got off the train and looked directly at them. He looked at me and... no recognition. Fair enough, I thought. Maybe it was cause I was wearing glasses.

Lucky Two Times A Charm This was bizarre. One time I ran into a friend on the train who I hadn’t seen in months. Then a day later I ran into him on the street, in a completely different neighborhood. Both times we were in neighborhoods that were not our usual haunts so it struck us both as completely odd. We kept laughing like how does this even happen, I haven’t seen you in 6 months? And are we like supposed to be running into each other?! It’s fate! It really did feel crazy and very New York.

The Ole ‘Pretend You Don’t See This Person’ Ah, yes. Every New Yorker’s been there. Every New Yorker. It happens on the subway, in the grocery store, on the street. There they are. It’s not even like you dislike them. It’s just you don’t want to speak to them, not in this setting. Or you had your morning commute all planned out- you had your song to listen to and your book to read and having to small talk for 45 minutes all the way to the city would ruin this for you. One of the funniest moments I experienced with this was riding a train home when I spotted a comedy person I had been working with on a sketch team and saw them see me and look away, then I watched them try so hard to not look in my direction and appear very busy for a 30 minute train ride back to Brooklyn. And by funny, I also mean that I cried about it on my walk home because I felt so ignored. But truly, in New York, we all just sort of accept it. Sometimes it is the old roommate you strongly despised, clutching the pole on your train as you sit on the subway bench with stiff shoulders and look forward defiantly like I know you see me and I see you and we co-exist and I don’t care that we’re riding this train together and share a past; we are 100% not acknowledging each other.

Out of Context You know how when you see someone outside of their usual setting in different clothes you don’t recognize them? Like seeing your teacher at a grocery store? When this happens, I feel like it’s jarring for me. A friend said hi to me while they were jogging one time and I was on the street and so confused at who they were because it was out of context of our usual hangouts that I could not figure out who they were- until it hit me. This isn’t a great story, but I felt like this category needed to have an honorable mention. Oh also one time I ran into my therapist on the train platform and I hated it. She was super nice and I couldn’t stop nervous laughing. Then she asked me how I felt about that interaction at my next session and I hated that conversation too. Holy hell, why do we need to discuss this, I thought. And now we’re re-living it? I was super chill about it.

The Intentional Run-In That Never Pans Out Then of course there are the times where you purposely try to run into someone, frequenting a hotspot in hopes of seeing a certain someone, only for the city to laugh at you, like, “you think I’m going to just give this one away? Hunny, please.” I spent one summer taking 2-3 walks a week in Prospect Park, hoping, prayingggg I would run into an ex-lover. I would walk slowly and deliberately; every runner or biker that passed me I would jerk my head to see if it was them-and it never was. Could that be them in the green windbreaker - did they get a new windbreaker? I guess they’ll buy new clothes and I’ll never know cause I’m not a part of their life anymo- oh nope, that’s not them, cool. 

“for every ten bad days, you’ll have one good day in new york.” and that good day will be over the top good in New York, so good it will almost make you forget how tumultuious and trying the other ten days are. This is what my friend Annie told me tonight and I very much agree.

The craziest thing I ever saw my first year in New York happened the night when Obama won the 2008 election. People streamed out into the streets in my neighborhood, clinking and cheering with bottles of “El Presidente” and setting fires in all the garbage cans outside.

Everyone was screaming and partying and dancing and the music was just blaring everywhere. People were hanging out of windows yelling, strangers were offering us beers, coke, weed on the street. Almost every person and child was out. Kids were out in their walkers on the street joining in the celebration.

My roommate and I were walking down one street when something caught our eye. A rat ran across the street and all of sudden, a huge man, caught up in emotion and ecstasy, slammed his heel down and just stomped the rat dead. My memory tells me he beheaded it, but I’m not sure.

I know this is terrible, but I still laugh so hard every time I think about how bewildering that moment was. This heightened moment of celebration jolted by this sudden rat murder.

When I arrived in 2008, I was in most senses, a child. Fresh out of college, not yet embittered, rarely aware of my many privileges, and in search of the nearest free happy hour. Yes, for some reason this was a thing in 2008. Bars covered all your drinks for one hour to lure you into drinking there all night. While they weren’t effective in that, they were very effective in getting their patrons drunk enough to steal other bottles of wine from crates in their basement near the bathroom, something my friends did.

Here is a cool list of what kind of person I was then and now (10 years later).

Then: I encouraged my roommate to throw her mattress out the window into the alley when she was done with it.

Now: I wash my tote bags in the laundry.

Then: I threw garbage bags of clothes and bedding out a 6th floor walkup window when I was moving because it was easier.

Now: Somehow I became a person who monitors how many connections I have on Linkedin.

Then: Drunk strangers pushed me inside a shopping cart on my friend’s Brooklyn roof in the moonlight as I yelled out that I was the king of the world. Now: I drink plain seltzer to reward myself.

Then: When my neighbors played the loudest music I’e ever heard in my life, I blasted N*Sync and musical theatre from my stereo until the walls shook, to...I guess get back at them?

Now: When I hear neighbors having sex or arguing, I politely and passively turn on my white noise app on my phone.

Then: A woman on a crowded train scowled at me and told me I was a “nasty ass bitch” for yawning in close proximity to her. My face turned all red and I looked at the ground.

Here I am on the most antiquated of online mediums (Tumblr) to wax poetic about my experiences in New York over the last 10 years as if I were a wise old grandfather. I cannot believe Tumblr is still running and that I can set up a blog in less than a minute, but wow, also, what a relief.

My goals for this blog are to remember good and bad NYC times and to preserve my memories in a little time capsule before I move out of NYC. I hope it’s as cliched as every “Why I Left New York” post you’ve ever read and also heartfelt enough to win a Pulitzer. 

I’ll leave with you this...

Other hacky* titles I almost named this post:

Hey, I’m Walkin’ Here

Goodbye to the Big Apple

It Wasn’t The Big Easy (That’s For Sure)

This One’s For You, Cynthia Nixon