On a normal day, the subway feels cramped and recklessly driven. Today, I found myself mentally saying the words of the announcer: “This is 34th Street, Herald Square. Transfer is available to the B, D, F, M, N….” you get the idea. I felt nostalgic for the way the announcer said, “connection is available to the PATH train.” Weird, right? It gets worse.
When I got off the N/Q/R train, I walked the same familiar route through the station and out the exit nearest my apartment building. Today, I had to maneuver a seemingly endless rush of people walking briskly in the opposite direction. And a larger than normal crowd was standing around watching a sweaty, thin young man in orange twerk the little buttocks he has. Yet I felt I would miss these strangers. These people I’d never met, may never meet, suddenly became familiar. At that moment, these were the people I’d walked past every day in that station – we’d shared the same hot, thick air. It felt important somehow.
But this is where it becomes unbelievable: as I took the escalator to the street level, it didn’t smell like it usually does. The air was devoid of the expected urine, burnt food truck meat and hot garbage trifecta. Today, I caught a double whiff of fresh bread: once from Subway and a second time from the Bravo Pizza shop next door. As I walked past a man in an XL white tee passing out mix tapes, I smelled his cologne instead of the cigarette in his hand. As a woman cut me off on our way across the street, the scent of her freshly washed hair almost made me forget about this Typical New Yorker Move. Hot and sticky as I was, I found myself smiling and allowed the sun to shine across my face.
The little inconveniences I once complained about (once = as recent as yesterday) were overshadowed by the feeling of accomplishment that welled up inside me. My eyes were misty, but not in that sad way like they had been earlier in the day – these were mini tears of pride. And beyond that, the feeling that the future had even more to offer.
If I had to sum up my experience in New York this summer, musty air and all, I’d have to summon Melissa McCarthy as Megan in "Bridesmaids": “I’m not gonna say I survived, I’m gonna say I thrived.”
Cheers, New York City. It’s been real.