I ❤️ New York, April 22nd

“New York is our town and if you look around, all the states in the USA can’t compare in any way. With roofs that scrape the sky, brilliant Broadway lights up high, we’re as bright as a penny arcade– natives have it made!” These are lyrics set to the song Free To Be You And Me that we sang in camp during Color War– lyrics that I sometimes hum on my way back from Central Park as I marvel at this great City that I’ve been lucky enough to call home for so many years. But recently I’ve considered packing up my mostly black wardrobe, Mace, and refillable MetroCard, and finally heading to warmer pastures. (Clothing photo from The Globe and Mail.)

Even though this decision has been put on hold for now, eventually this will be happening. So I thought it only proper for a diehard New Yorker such as myself to compile a list of sorts summarizing my experiences here. A grand list in fact, one befitting my hometown; a love letter to New York if you will. And I thought I’d write it in advance of leaving while I still have clarity of mind and can maintain my composure, instead of trying to jot down a few things in between ugly cries, bubble wrapping, and the dreaded detangling of perfectly Velcro’d extension cords. Here’s what I’ve come up with so far…

I’ve seen Madonna working out in Central Park, Julia Roberts grabbing lunch in Chelsea, Matt Dillon on Fifth Avenue, and a blond Bruce Willis near the Zoo. I giggled through Eddie Murphy performing at Radio City Music Hall, went joke for joke at Steven Wright‘s show because I listened to his tape a million times, and laughed uncontrollably during Jerry Seinfeld‘s standup act at The Beacon Theater. I’ve seen Yul Brynner rule The King and I, Andrea McArdle star in Annie, and Nathan Lane avoid using contractions in Guys and Dolls. I’ve Stub Hubbed my way into Lin-Manuel Miranda’s Hamilton, and watched Idina Menzel and Kristin Chenoweth absolutely kill it (and almost each other) in Wicked.

I’ve seen The Book of Mormon, The Producers, Pippin, Rent, The Lion King, Phantom, Cats (hated it!), Les Mis (loved it!), Mama Mia, Jersey Boys, Avenue Q (twice), Kinky Boots, Dear Evan Hansen (in previews), Mean Girls, Damn Yankees, Miss Saigon (free tickets), The Prom (opening night), Beautiful, Oklahoma, Head Over Heels, The Wiz, and Waitress, just to name a few off the top of my head… but I kept none of the Playbills (that’s so touristy!).

I’ve seen Marc Cohn croon at an intimate venue on Bleecker Street, Madonna play to a sell-out crowd at MSG, and Elvis Costello charm a packed midtown concert hall. I’ve watched Dido in the rain at Bryant Park, discoed to Erasure, and sang along to Keane. I felt the love that night for Elton John, danced in the dark at Springsteen, moved like Jagger at Maroon 5, cried through James Taylor, soaked up the sun at Sheryl Crow, and shouted at Tears for Fears (I had to let it all out!).

I’ve been to a Yankees double header, a Mets rain delay, a Subway Series game, a buzzer-beating Knicks win (yes, it was a long time ago), a Rangers opener, and froze at a Giants tailgate party. I took my life in my hands battling thousands of sweaty New Yorkers to watch the July 4th Fireworks on the FDR, but never felt the urge to witness the ball to drop on New Year’s Eve in Times Square. I’ve visited THE MET, The Museum of Natural History, The Children’s Museum, toured The MoMA, The Whitney, and went around and around at The Guggenheim without getting dizzy.

I’ve lived in a big corner studio in Midtown at The Guilford (don’t let the tattered awning fool ya!), a one bedroom on the Upper East Side, a junior four in Chelsea, and in two different two bedrooms on the Upper West Side– Two Lincoln Square and a no name tower (ha), and every residence was located on the Southeast corner of the street with an even numbered address. (Pretty cool, eh?)

I’ve had hundreds of slices of pizza from Keste, Roberta’s, John’s, Grimaldi’s, Patsy’s, Motorino, Artichoke, Arturo’s, Rubirosa, L’Amico, Little Italy, Tavola, Totonno, Upland, Vezzo, Marta, Nicoletta, Prince Street Pizza, and from anyone and everyone claiming to be Famous or Original Ray. (I still say the old joint on 11th Street at 6th Avenue was the best.) Is there really such thing as a bad slice of pizza in New York City? Don’t answer.

I’ve had at least 10 dirty water dogs from seemingly clean street vendors who promised they didn’t wash their carts in the Bethesda Fountain, and cups, sundaes, floats, shakes, bars, and cones from Haagen Dazs, Ben & Jerry’s, Emack & Bolio’s, Carvel, Baskin-Robbins, Morgenstern’s, Big Gay Ice Cream, OddFellows, Ample Hills, and Mister Softee himself.

I’ve happily purchased an $8 bottle of water at the US Open to see Nadal nail the semi-finals and paid a premium for a pretzel right before Billy Joel sang New York State of Mind at The Garden. I’ve been ice skating at Wollman Rink, visited the Bronx Zoo, and played softball at the Heckscher Ballfields where I once scored the winning run. I’ve attended the Ballet at Lincoln Center, the Metropolitan Opera, and sunned myself at the fabulous Coney Island shore. I’ve been to the Circus, Cirque du Soleil, Big Apple Circus, and the Rodeo and yes, it was my first one.

I’ve been on The Circle Line, visited The Statue of Liberty, been a guest of my Dad on the floor of The New York Mercantile Exchange, lunched at Windows on the World, partied at The Rainbow Room and Top of the 6’s, dined at The Boathouse Cafe in Central Park, The Boat Basin Cafe on West 79th Street, and had a 3am breakfast at Lox Around The Clock just to make sure they were really serving all night.

I’ve been to Columbus Circle, Union Square, Washington Square Park, Sheep Meadow, The Great Lawn, The Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis Reservoir, The Seaport, Chinatown, The Village, Murray Hill, Gramercy, Hudson Yards, Harlem, SoHo, NoHo, Nolita before it was even called that, and Tribeca. (Map courtesy of NYC Tourist.)

I’ve taken the bus, the Path, the Long Island Rail Road, Amtrak, the subway, Metro North, the Shuttle, the Ferry, taxis, car service, an Uber pool, ridden in a Lyft, hailed a Handsome Cab, and I’ve walked practically every street from 96th to the Battery, including the Highline and a stroll through Strawberry Fields.

I’ve been to parties uptown, conferences downtown, bad dates in every part of town, Sweet 16s, Sour 17s, weddings, communions, happy hours, birthdays, rooftop gatherings, underground speakeasies, and after-hours clubs. I’ve danced at Studio 54, Area, Tunnel, Regine’s, Palladium, Club USA, Nell’s, Au Bar, and Sticky Mike’s Frog Bar, and I agree that Crack is Wack.

A cabbie once told me there were two seasons in New York– construction and Fourth of July. (A man who truly understood the City.) I told him he should consider a run for Mayor.
🚖 🚖 🚕 🚕 🚕 🚖 🚖

I’ve shopped at Saks Fifth Avenue, Charivari, American High, Fiorucci, Barami, Country Road, Bonwit Teller, and the original Kenneth Cole on Columbus. I’ve browsed at Bendel’s, stocked up on staples at Century 21, and bargain hunted at Daffy’s, although I’ve never claimed to be a millionaire. I’ve sauntered around street fairs, fallen into the Gap, perused the offerings on Orchard Street, blown the budget at Barney’s, and blended in at Bergdorf’s with other Bloomingdale’s shoppers. I’ve been a regular at Only Hearts, Scoop, Goop, Vince, Lulu, Sweaty Betty, Gloria Jewel, and I considered Olive & Bette friends. I’ve spent time at WilliWear, Canal Jean & Co., Capezio, and I was a lover of Reminiscence. I learned that the “ABC” in ABC Carpet & Home probably stood for “A Boatload of Cash” and after an hour of oohs and aahs on every floor, I have instead popped across the street to Fishs Eddy to spend a few bucks on kitschy kitchen stuff.

I’ve been waxed, plucked, steamed, shot, lasered, blown dry, cut, trimmed, colored, polished, electrolicized, massaged, microbladed, tweezed, squeezed, and scrubbed in various salons, at several spas, and by professionals all around the City. (Referrals available for those who are interested.)

My grocery stores have included: Balducci’s, Whole Foods, Agata and Valentina, Fairway, Citarella, Zabar’s, Gourmet Garage, Food Emporium, Dean & DeLuca, Eli’s, Eataly, Grace’s Marketplace, Westside Market, Chelsea Market, Trader Joe’s, and Duane Reade when I was absolutely desperate.

I ran the NYC Marathon, Grete’s Great Gallop, multiple NYC Half Marathons, the Poland Spring Marathon Kickoff, Abbot Dash To The Finish Line, and the Chase Corporate Challenge. I’ve meandered across the Brooklyn Bridge, rollerbladed, biked, hiked, sledded, marched and protested. I participated in the AIDS Walk several times and even had my picture in the Post wearing a t-shirt I designed.

I’ve seen the Thanksgiving Day Parade from bleachers on the Upper West Side and once from right in front of the Macy’s 34th Street flagship. I’ve partied on the sidelines of the Halloween Parade, and I was accidentally in the St. Patrick’s Day Parade for two very long blocks. (Apologies Officer Fitzpatrick. And thanks for not telling Father Benedict.)

I’m an expert jaywalker, and I know how to avoid sign walkers, squawking street evangelists, aggressive flyer distributors, pesky perfume spritzers, and vocal construction workers who refuse to take a hint. I’ve had my good shoes resoled dozens of times, and I’ve dropped more F-bombs than the entire cast of The Wolf of Wall Street combined.

I can weave effortlessly through a busy subway platform narrowly making the train mere moments before the doors snap shut. I know which entrances to use and which exits to avoid at almost every stop on the 1, 2, R, W, 6, and the Shuttle. I have people-watched from benches, ledges, perches, stoops, chairs, stools, and a nice patch of grass in Central Park.

I’ve raised a glass or two at bars like Spanky’s, Home On The Range, 1629, American Trash, Blondie’s, Dorian’s, Canastel’s, Bear Bar, Ruby’s, Quarter Moon Saloon, Outback, Cafe Iguana, Cafe Frida, El Rio Grande (on both the Texas and Mexico sides), Polly Esther’s, Nobu 57, McSorley’s, McFadden’s, McAleer’s, Old Town Bar, Moran’s, McAnn’s, Merchant’s, The Royalton, The Standard, Schiller’s Liquor Bar, Name This Joint, Brother Jimmy’s, Velvet Room, Coffee Shop, Trailer Park Lounge, Trilogy, The Redhead, Fanelli Cafe, El Toro Blanco, Ski Bar, and PDT (which stands for Please Don’t Tell, but hell I’m leaving soon, so the secret’s out now).

I’ve enjoyed a Nathan’s Famous Frank, Two To Go with Mustard and Sauerkraut from Gray’s Papaya, a Cronut from Dominique Ansel, Junior’s Cheesecake, Katz’s Pastrami, Atomic Wings, a ShackBurger, Fries and a Concrete from Shake Shack, a Grilled Chicken Rueben from EJ’s Luncheonette, Whitefish Salad at Barney Greengrass, Bagels, Lox and Cream Cheese from Zabar’s, Steak For Four at Peter Luger (with three friends), Frozen Hot Chocolate at Serendipity 3, Chocolate Fondue at La Fondue, S’mores at DTUT, Dim Sum at Shun Lee Cafe, Grilled Cheese from Artisanal, and Cedar Plank Salmon at Blue Water Grill.

I’ve devoured Linguine Alle Vongole at Esca, Lemon Cake from Del Frisco’s, Greek Salad with Orzo and Chicken at sisters Museum Cafe and Metropolitan Cafe, Mac n’ Cheese at Chat n’ Chew, Fried Chicken at Ed Debevic’s, Chicken Souvlaki with Salad at The Red Flame, better Chicken Souvlaki with Greek Fries from Viand, the best Chicken Souvlaki with White Sauce from The Halal Guys in Midtown, Terrible Food with a side of Oh My God That’s Really A Guy at Lucky Cheng’s, Big Brunch at Main Street, Brunch with Spreadable Fruit at Sarabeth’s, Grand Marnier Shrimp from Chin Chin, Crispy Spinach at China Grill, Crack Pie at Milk Bar, a Porterhouse at The Old Homestead, Disco Japanese at Fujiyama-Mama, an Egg Cream from Eisenberg’s, Roasted Chicken from Isabella’s, Sashimi from Yama, Black & White Cookies from William Greenberg Jr., Blackout Cake Doughnuts from Doughnut Plant, a Cheeseburger and Cottage Fries from J.G. Melon, and a Tuna Burger from Union Square Cafe.

I’ve gobbled up Banana Pudding from Magnolia Bakery, a Banana Cupcake from Billy’s Bakery, a Pretzel Croissant from City Bakery, a Milk Chocolate Birthday Cupcake from Georgetown Cupcakes, a Red Velvet Cupcake from Sprinkles Cupcakes, Steak Frites at Pastis, H&H Bagels, Fried Chicken with Wasabi Honey from Blue Ribbon, Chocolate Cake from Strip House, Rock Shrimp Tempura from Nobu 57, and way too many Bacon, Egg & Cheese on a Roll (salt, pepper, hot sauce) sandwiches from every deli, bodega and food cart from here to Morningside Heights, and I realize that I will never ever have my fill of New York. Could you? (BEC photo courtesy of Lohud.com.)

“Nothing compares, nothing compares, to you.” Lyrics by Sinéad O’Connor 

I know New York is filled with rats, roaches, mice, traffic, garbage trucks, hysterical neighbors, lines, sirens, construction, odors, elevator problems, more traffic, street closures, corruption, obstructions, overcrowding, graffiti, parking tickets, crane collapses, brownouts, and potholes.

We have subway delays, cable outages, rain, sleet, snow, humidity, fires, pigeons, bedbugs, noise, City taxes, real estate taxes, transit hikes, transit strikes, a mayor we hate, and tourists we avoid. (Maybe Billy Joel can craft those beauties into a new hit song? Although Springsteen might be a better choice.) And yet millions of us love this melting pot of diverse food, culture, customs, style, thought, humor, talent, art, architecture, abilities, tech, business, ideas, music, innovations, and people– especially me.

New York is the place I’ve been hired, fired (well pink-slipped really but fired rhymes), wedded, bedded, yelled at, catcalled, celebrated, told off, flipped off, called, hung up on, burglarized, loved, hugged, rewarded, hated, ignored, criticized, stalked, built up, torn down, passed over, promoted, shown the door, given the keys, gifted, screwed over, and stood up… and I still think this is the greatest City on planet Earth. (Well it would be wrong to blame New York for all those bad experiences, no?)

I’ve developed friendships here, created a family, found love, formed bonds, met colleagues, nurtured connections, laughed, cried and smiled for days. These people are my people! And I don’t regret any of it really, besides wearing those tragic suede sandals to the beach, and losing that diamond earring in Banana Republic. (Yes, I’m still looking for it six years later.)

“Hours turn to moments. The sun makes one last climb. (Words that I forgot go here…) Goodbye doesn’t mean forever. Let me tell you goodbye doesn’t mean we’ll never be together again.” More camp lyrics set to The Goodbye Girl Theme Song that perfectly summarize how I’m feeling.

My ex-husband and I split when my son was only two and a half years old and we shared custody. To stop Matty from feeling sad when we couldn’t be together, I told him that when I wasn’t with him, he was always in my heart, which was and is still true.

New York will forever be in mine.
I love you, New York!

Ummm, yeah, so this is sort of embarrassing now. And I feel like Cher must have felt years after her final goodbye tour when she was still planning to perform but she was out of concert titles for her ninth comeback. I officially pulled my apartment off the market, but I am mentally and emotionally preparing myself for the inevitable pack and cry sometime this year. I will be back to visit though after I move. Often. I promise. So, ok…goodbye again, even though I’m still here. Love you! Mean it!! ❤️