I’ve applied for a job in NYC, because that’s where publishing happens in the United States. You can say all you like that location no longer matters, that everyone can work remotely from their home offices, and to some extent that’s true, but if you want to learn how the old-school publishers do their thing, you’d best move to the heart of it all.
New. York. City.
(I keep hearing that old Pace Picante sauce commercial in my mind: “That stuff’s made in New York City!” “NEW YORK CITY?!”)
I haven’t lived there in about a decade, and I’m still not sure whether I miss the place. In some ways I definitely do. New York has the best subway system in the world, and I dare anyone to say otherwise. Sure, it may take you an hour and a half to get from your apartment in the Bronx to the airport in Queens because you have to go through Manhattan by subway and bus in order to take the cheapskate route, but it can be done. Show me Austin’s subway system, pal. And riddle me this, while you’re at it: why did CapMetro just raise the fares on the express bus from $1.50 to $2.50—a 75% increase overnight? Shouldn’t that be illegal?
Anyway, back to my original point, which was this: New York is a city I’ve loved and hated. I’ve loved its big-city glamour, the ability to easily get around no matter what time of day via subway, the crazies, the zanies, and the only-in-New-Yorkers. I’ve loved Central Park, the Metropolitan Museum of Art (my comparison chart for all museums), the NYC library system, the pizza, and the glamour of being able to say “I’m from New York,” like it’s the center of the universe, when anyone asks.
I’ve hated New York, too, of course. It’s dirty, it’s impersonal, it’s full of yuppie scumbags and jerkoffs who think they own the universe just because they live on the Upper East (or West) Side. There are total degenerates looking to grope you on the subway. The place is often best described as an open-air insane asylum. There are hazards on every street corner. A single gal has got to be sharp in that concrete jungle. It’s nothing like Sex and the City, or any one of millions of rom-coms (When Harry Met Sally, anyone?), and for that I am bitter.
Throgs Neck Bridge, via Wikimedia
But you know what? I miss it, too. And what’s more, I miss being in the know about all the latest and greatest. I miss exploring everything that city has to offer. I miss the hustle and bustle. I miss driving my crummy Chevy Celebrity late at night down the West Side Highway, doors locked, windows up tight, just staring at all the sights. I miss sitting by the water with a cup of crappy coffee and waiting for the lights on the Throgs Neck Bridge to blink out, like they always do, sometime during the night and totally at random—a lit-up string of pearls winking out of sight. I used to stare at those blue lights on lonely nights in the Bronx, feeling oddly comforted, like if one beautiful thing were in my field of vision, then everything couldn’t be that bad.
So I applied for a job in NYC, even though I’ve just moved to Austin. Even though I would love to get to know this place better. Even though there are a million little things that drive me crazy about NYC. Because, ultimately, I think I belong there, along with the man of my dreams (who also belongs there, as an artist and musician), exploring that city together, sharing the greatest city in the world.
I’ll let you know how that roll of the dice turns out once I know myself. In the meantime, wish me luck.
No Comments