As of last month, I’ve lived in New York City for 12 years (!). I never intended to stay permanently, but more than a decade here has made it tricky for me to imagine living elsewhere. The city never “gets me down,” per se, but while I used to think I would move simply to experience living in a different place, now I would need a compelling reason to leave. That reason may end up being $$, or the school systems, or a job, but it won’t be “just wanted something different.”
The past 24 hours have done a pretty spectacular job of making the continued case for NYC. Last night I dressed up as the Great Barrier Reef and went to a 50th birthday party at a nightclub in the Meatpacking District, where Vanilla Ice played while someone wearing a huge plush kangaroo suit leapt around (it was Australia themed, other than the Vanilla Ice part).
(I saw one other reef, two jars of vegemite, two mermaids, several Australian flags, three Quantas flight attendants, Bananas in Pyjamas, the Wiggles, and too many Steve Irwins, Mad Maxes, Crocodile Dundees, kangaroos, koalas, and sharks to keep track of.)
This morning I had coffee in Alphabet City, outside, during the course of which 1) we talked to an actor from Chicago whose small child tried to offer me the stick he was carrying (this was just post-instruction from his dad “Do not put that stick anywhere near that dog” that was tied to the fence, so the kid was technically following instructions); 2) a woman asked me to hold her dog’s leash while she went inside with her baby-in-stroller (I did think she was going to ask us to watch the baby, too) and I got to enjoy all of the comments and pets from the passersby by proxy.
After coffee we went to a community garden down the street and sat by a koi pond with several turtles standing guard on rocks, where we met 1) a guided group of German tourists; 2) a man with two small dogs that desperately wanted to vanquish one of the turtles, which seemed unfazed (I commented, “Poor turtle,” and the guy said, “Poor turtle nothing; we do this every day, so he knows they’re never going to get him. THEY don’t know that, though;” 3) A man and his three- or four-year-old son, who was dressed in a full-on Mario costume (complete with mustache), who explained to us that his son had just become obsessed with Mario but he didn’t want him playing on the phone all the time, so instead bought him a Mario costume and took him out to treat the world as his own personal Mario experience. The boy had certainly played SOME Mario, because he told his dad that he needed to step on the turtle (his dad said “you can touch him gently with your foot, but BE GENTLE” and the child actually complied perfectly, though the turtle dove into the pool indignantly). As they left the boy said, “We have to go find some mushrooms…so I can go bloop bloop bloop!” (motioning growing taller with his hand).
I really, really hope that at home the dad has constructed a set of cardboard boxes that hang from the ceiling that the lad can jump up and crush with his head. Ding!
