New York, New York and a Life in Transit

I have an intimate and personal relationship with the transit hubs of New York City.

I have a routine at LGA that hasn’t changed since the LED fountain was installed in 2020. I have also often repeated a quote I once saw on Instagram “Be like LGA, stay dedicated to your glow-up no matter how inconvenient it is for everyone around you.” I like to say I haven’t forgiven LGA for the early curfew stranding me in Charlotte, NC TWICE, but the proximity to my apartment allows for a lot of sins…

I have an exact route and “my spot” at Moynihan Hall while I wait for my train that is my ideal balance of line of sight to the track board, away from crowds, and in sight of a trash can for the empty cup of the cappuccino I always order at the same shop away from the main thoroughfare.

Grand Central involves sending a tourist trap photo to friends overseas and noting my favorite constellations in the ceiling. There will be a coffee and bagel from Zaro’s and I’m always too early.

JFK and I annoy each other but have reached a tentative truce after my crisscrossing the globe. I try to have more patience (and arrive earlier!) and my luggage hasn’t arrived dented or damaged in years.

Port Authority is that grimy, unemployed cousin you can’t quite cut off. It’s always late and never exactly what I paid for but despite some close calls, we’re both still alive. I still avoid it as much as possible on principle.

Newark doesn’t count as an NYC hub. No, you will not change my mind on this.

I’ve been thinking about my relationship to NYC and its travel hubs as I pulled into Penn/Moynihan this week yet again. Another out-of-town contract ends and fall in the city begins. The end of August, however, marked the 10th anniversary of my comings and goings in NYC.

Since 2013 I have called Astoria home. 3 apartments, varying people in and out of apartments, though October marks 9 years of Elie and I being on a lease together (actually residing in the same place at the same time is a different question of timings…). Over the last 10 years, I have lived so many lives and been so many versions of myself that I honestly cannot keep track anymore. I have cycled through so many versions of who I will be and what I will do professionally that it’s nearly laughable that I found myself back to an arts admin gig this summer in the Berkshires working under the same mentor I started with directly after college.

I’ve lived and traveled all over the world now, and after all of that, Astoria is still home. I still come back to this neighborhood. To this city. And I always feel at home.

I suppose I’m officially a New Yorker now. I nearly cried as the Hell Gate Bridge came into view. I walked to the park my first night in the city in 2013, I remember so clearly the bridges all lit up that last weekend evening in August 2013 and I watched the East River and listened to families and ice cream trucks behind me. I stood on the edge of the next phase in my life finally a resident in this amazing city I’d fallen in love with as a child. I couldn’t wait to see what would happen next.

And I think of how small my dreams and hopes were as I looked out on the Hell Gate that even now as I look at my favorite bridge, I think to myself, thank God none of them came true. Thank God for this amazing city that chewed me up, spat me out, and gave me some of the most amazing people and experiences in my life in return.

Welcome home indeed. Here’s to another decade, Astoria. ❤️