Frequent Flyer Miles

It’s 6am in North Carolina a day & a half after Christmas & all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse, because all of the mice are in New York.
Ah, New York. Big, demonstrative, beautiful, ugly, terrible, brilliant, amazing, perfect planet that pretends it’s a city. Where English is not the dominant spoken language in a lot of corners. City that never sleeps. I’m so glad I’m not there right now.
When I return, after the holidays, it will be a beautiful reunion. It’s a strange marriage, people & NYC. Don’t ever tell us to leave, but don’t question why we’re so aggressive or angry either. Example, in Charlotte, should I go to the mall with my family & bump into someone, turning around & saying “Watch where you’re going, dick” would generate several “oh my!”s & be frowned upon. That same scenario, in the big apple, is your standard Tuesday afternoon on the train & totally acceptable behavior.
We’re all so upset, but passionately in love with & spoiled by the aesthetics of the city. The resolution to our emotional confusion is simple, and far easier to solve than ‘the rent being too damn high’. We hang out too much. We need frequent breaks. It’s all just too much. Everybody who has no choice but to pass through Times Square on their commute, fucking hates Times Square, but what’s the first thing visitors to the city do? Go to Times Square. We need to be visitors, often. I’m talking 5 minimum vacations a year. Leave New York. Go see actual houses & lawns & gas stations & malls & people, real people, and come home to the love of your life. You’ll see the beauty again. You’ll remember why you do this. It’ll make sense why you talk to your family about New York City like it’s a lover & not a zip code. Get out of New York City, as often as you can. Distance, they say, makes the heart grow fonder.

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