Written on the subway walls...

As I've alluded to before, I have a love/hate thing with New York City. It's my home...I grew up in the Bronx until I was 13. Then Queens until I went off to college.
I love dissing New York. My childhood friends can do the same. So can any of the other 11 million Americans who are from the NYC Metro area. But if you're not from there, watch what you say. Because when it comes to verbally gutting you like a trout, we New Yorkers are non-pareil. Sound hostile? Venomous? Too damn bad.  Lewis Black said it best, when giving advice a few years ago to Republicans, arriving in NY for the convention. "Imagine you've just arrived at JFK. You wonder what New Yorkers are like. Here's your answer...imagine ME...times 8 MILLION!"
The problem is, to paraphrase Chrissie Hynde, "I went back to New York...but my city was gone." The problem, specifically, is that the hostile, in your face, high volume New York I grew up with has been replaced by, by, (this is hard for me to write...sorry)...friendliness and cleanliness.
It's like the city has become this huge movie set for the Stepford Wives. I don't understand.

This past Saturday, my girlfriend took me to NYC for my birthday (which is today, actually. 57 and life is very good.) We first went to the Guggenheim museum, which was phenomenal. But as much as I loved it, and as much as I loved being with her, what I REALLY loved was getting on the subway. I love subways. When I was a kid, my mom, among the many cool things she did for me and Jeff, my brother, was to take us to most of the Broadway shows. The shows were great, but even better was getting on the #1 train at 231st Street, which was elevated. The subway would head south, then somewhere at the south tip of the Bronx, the train would suddenly descend, like a pelican catching a fish, into darkness. Me and Jeff would stand in the front of the 1st car of the train and stare into the darkness of the tunnel. Just an occasional green or red light. Some litter (I always wondered how someone could actually litter in the middle of a subway tunnel). Then the light of the next station. At one point, I could tell you every subway line in the city, and it's terminii. (I'm trying to come up with a fancy word to describe the first and last stops of each station. I like "terminii", even if I'm getting the red squiggly indicating there's no such word. Ah, screw the red squiggly line. Ah, that felt good...very New York like)

But I digress...back to last Saturday.

So, we leave the museum. We walk across Central Park (which, again, was clean and safe. Very frightening. I was hoping some thug would accost us so I could fend him off in front of my girlfriend. Very disappointed to find a paucity of any threats) and we descend down to the B train, which will take us south to 50th Street, so we can catch the tree at Rockefeller Center. During the whole time on the subway (as was true on the #6 train that took us uptown to the museum), it was clean and quiet. The only echo of the old New York was that it WAS crowded. We were like the proverbial sardines. My girlfriend is 5 feet and I was wondering what the experience must have been like.  How could she see anything?
Again, sadly, no perverts trying to rub up against her. I felt all this New York macho energy, just wanting to kick someone's ass if they tried. But everyone was civil. People were smiling. One woman started a conversation with us about how nice it was to be in NYC during the holiday season. What??? What planet did you come from? What's wrong with you?
That's what I thought. But, I played along with all the other New York Stepfordians and engaged in a conversation with her. As I also did with the Japanese tourist who asked about the subways. She was smiling too. But she was Japanese, so, naturally, she would smile. I'm not proud of this, but my inner Archie Bunker possessed me for a second and I thought of asking her if she'd be in town for Pearl Harbor day, the following Friday. Fortunately, I kept my mouth shut.
Anyway, the tree was beautiful. We then walked over to Town Hall on W. 43rd Street to catch a live airing of the show Prairie Home Companion, which was way fun. Then we walked to Grand Central Station, grabbed dinner, and headed back to CT. I still love the small clock in the center of the station. Maybe I'm getting sentimental.
So, continuing this sentimental jag, being in NYC during the holiday season really is magical. Everything New York-y. All for free if you like, save the cost of getting there via MetroNorth. No fancy restaurants...you can buy a hot dog and a knish and soda from any corner stand. Watching New Yorkers just walking the streets...that's free too. As is the tree. As is looking in the windows of any fancy 5th Avenue store.
I couldn't ever see living in the city. No desire. I always get on sensory overload once the day is done; ready to head back north to CT. But while I'm there, especially if you're with someone you love, it just doesn't get any better. To quote my son's favorite cliche, often said when he's eating lobster, his favorite food, "Ah, this is the life."

Happy holidays, y'all. (or "youse").