--YOU SHOULD HAVE BEEN THERE
…New York City, we have so much to talk about. I saw you staring at me, then being coy. Maybe that’s called flirting. How does the city flirt with you? Are there ever any pink taxis involved? Does the pavement reach up and kiss you on the cheek? That’s too many questions, I know. Sometimes I don’t know what I don’t know, but mostly I know what I know. It’s strange, I know that.
If it was easy, anyone could do it. That’s one of the wise things my father told me. That and, “Some people can’t see the forest for the trees.” I took my years to get what he meant.
I think he might have been to NY once when he was young. Probably drove through it. He was a truck driver for a while. A race car driver for a while. A mechanic for quite some time. A smoker and a drunk and my father.
New York can be lonely if you’re not careful. That’s why you should always bring your own crowd with you. Make up a joke if you have to. Pretend you’re always honest and if you do, that's plenty good enough, works for me, just fine.
There’s an awful lot of wine in the city. I could never drink all of it by myself, though I gave it a good shot.
The subway runs through everything as if it knows exactly what it’s doing.
Ticket takers on the subway know their stuff, I’ll tell you that. Perhaps that’s why they never smile.
It’s hard to fit a million people in Union Station, but they do. Everyone’s going somewhere and most are in a hell of a hurry.
Children in the city mostly stay fenced in. That’s probably wise.
The dogs of New York look so happy to be out on the streets. You can almost see them grinning all the time. Once one winked at me, and I winked back. (wink, wink.) (I never wink. And I don't trust people who do.)
Some of the skyscrapers wear woolly white hats called clouds.
It’s the honest truth: if you get sick in the city, no one cares.
A lot of bartenders want to tell you more than you’re interested in hearing, yet they do it anyway. Compulsions are complex. Whose to judge?
It’s important to pay close attention. Anything can slip by in a flash, even when traffic is at a standstill.
In the city, it’s a competition to produce delicious food, and nobody ever really wins. The guy in the back seat of the cab will eat sauerkraut and tell you it’s pizza and you’ll have to believe him because what else are you going to do?
I wonder where they bury all the residents. They could build a high rise for that and people would probably buy tickets to check in for a look-see.
Some things are not like the other. (I told that; kind of).
There’s a kind of music that pours up through the manhole steam. Some people think it’s their favorite type while others pass by it with fingers plugged in their ears. You should see it. It's better than, "America's Funniest Home Videos."
I used to think I wanted to live with you. It’s cramped in places but I’m skinny and wouldn’t move around too much and you could tell me stories or just sit there and watch TV if that’s all you wanted to do. Really, I’m not much of a bother. Not on weekdays anyway.
The truth is I miss you.
New York City, you’ve been good to me, and I owe you for that.