Trip to New York City

Laying Under the Brooklyn Bridge ( Figueroa, 2025 )

I traveled to New York at the end of this summer. It was my first trip as an adult. The first one that I planned at least. I almost didn’t take it. I tend to act financially conservative. I am working on learning how to balance security with risk. Overall, I am glad that I took the trip; I felt it fed my little jar of confidence with some tokens of bravery.

My friend, who invited us to stay with her, was cat sitting for a family over the summer and they allowed her to stay in their home for the duration of her work. Their apartment is located in the upper west side. Maybe needless to say, but the family was lucrative, and the house was one of multiple.

I had often said that I wanted to take a trip with her, and our group of friends which we sometimes consider as family, but I had never allowed myself to swing that amount of money. I had gotten into the habit of always saving at least half of my paycheck, and rationing the rest.

The first day there, I woke up early and sat to read on the patio. The patio had turf grass and some dead plants which also served to hold down s scarf which would blow in the wind when the breeze past by. I read for a while and became tired, so I chose to lay my head down on the table in front of me. The air was cold and I enjoyed the challenge of bearing it. I either fell asleep to the sounds of the city or was awake the whole time, I couldn't be certain.

I can see why people enjoy New York City. It is walkable, and there is always people around you doing things, which distracts you from any direct feelings of loneliness, althought, it lingers like a fundamental tone. There is a lot of places to visit, and its fun to know that people are always doing something. It feels like you are standing next to a paper screen and behind it is someone waiting to invite you into what they are doing. I think about how those unrealized dream and aspirations age with time. Maybe it’s my own masochistic taste in beauty, but I like to think it ages like leather, the worn bits showing peoples routines and habits.

There is something romantic about gust of air that the subway creates as it passes the platform. It threatens to sweep you away with it into the tunnels. You fall left into them and then you continue to fall for a while. Like closing your eyes outside of the car window at night.

The city is pulled in conflict in every which direction. Like a symphony of rubber bulb horns, cymbals and and a 1^st year flautist. It is organized chaos. There is tension between the residents. Maybe, someday, New York city will collapse in on itself, but for today it continues to hustle and bustle like a 400 year old fire.