New York state of mind

Steve and I once spent a week in New York City back in 2004. He had a training class, so the hotel was covered. It just made sense for me to tag along. During the day, Steve would go to class. I would meet up with him for lunch, but I would have the rest of the day to just wander. We stayed at the Hilton in Times Square. I had to walk through the garment district to meet up with him for lunch. It was early April, so the weather was lovely. It was, simply put, a great week. I explored the city from lower Manhattan to Central Park.

We loved New York. The energy was addictive. We've been back for brief visits since: Steve met up with a few friends from England for a few days; I spent a couple of days there with another friend; and we spent an afternoon there when we had a long layover for one of our England flights. But we've not spent any significant time there together until we went on our anniversary trip earlier this month.

We arrived around lunchtime on a Wednesday and grabbed a cab to our apartment in Little Italy. It was an area of New York that was new to us, so we were excited about it. Traffic was insane, as usual. It made my cab rides in London look serene. We finally arrived, checked out the apartment, and headed back out. 

Little Italy is just two blocks of Mulberry Street. It is surrounded by China Town. So the crush of people is pretty intense as you're dealing with both tourists and an almost unfathomable number of neighborhood locals. I hated it. The subways were a nightmare of people. I was miserable.

Where was the New York energy that we loved and tapped into when we were there before? Where was that exhilaration? Had ten years aged me so much?

I got my answer in the subway as we headed back from the Chelsea Market. Steve went through the turnstile exit and some guy in a hurry decided it was more important that he go next than me. He pushed his back pack in front of me to stop me from exiting. Without losing stride I swept his backpack brusquely out of my way and continued behind Steve. 

The ten-year gap between visits hadn't aged me, it had made me forget the most important weapon in your New York arsenal: attitude. In trying to get my bearings, I hesitated and lost my confidence. When I quit thinking about it in that split-second decision, I found both it and my love of New York.

Well, a love of New York except Canal Street. But that's a story for another blog.