wistful

It seemed appropriate to land at the airport in rain tonight, as if it was the right ending to this weekend. I got in my car (for once, I remembered where I parked it) and sat in the dark listening to the quiet rain. I was grateful to be back in my car, to be negotiating the slippery roads with my clutch, tires and brakes - a combination that usually involves me skidding
when I start.

I'm wistful for something I can't put my finger on.

The thing about New York City is that it has everything. Over the course of 3 days, I had a $2 bagel and $65 a person brunch (nothing is cheap at the Plaza). I heard more languages than I recognize. I got a massage, heard a classical quartet, went to the Whitney Museum, and saw a copious number of sex shops. I wandered the crowded streets of Chinatown, the coffee shop laden streets of the Village and the quiet greenery of Central Park. It rained (while in Chinatown). It was a gorgeous fall day (while in the park).

I am constantly astounded by the overwhelming number of food options. There isn't a nationality not represented in an affordable close-by eatery regardless of where in the city you are. (Presumably this hold true in most of the boroughs too, but I haven't been to any of those since I was a kid, so I won't even pretend I know what I am talking about).

When Randy and I were walking through Chinatown yesterday, attempting to find a lunch location before the onslaught of rain, I witnessed one of the things I love about the city. Two cops yelling at a cab driver to stop blocking traffic as an old lady was trying to get in. And then they yelled at some ladies crossing the street in front of traffic, muttering something like "Don't
worry about those moving vehicles" -- a nice way of saying "Hey you fucking moron, get outta the way." Everyone in the city has an opinion and doesn't think twice about sharing it with you.

Every time I visit this city, I know I've only scratched the surface. I am only a visitor here, even though I'd like to think I am connected to this city in some meaningful way. A a suburban Jersey kid, I am more attached to it than someone growing up in most of the 50 states, but that doesn't mean it's my city. Not like DC or Austin or even London, where I lived for 4 months.
Being from New Jersey means much of my attitude hails from NY. But that doesn't make me less suburban then all the rest of the American suburbanites. It means I curse more, and have better fashion options.

I can't imagine I'll never live in NYC, but I can't imagine moving there either. I like being able to find quiet, solitude, and lots of outdoors stuff. I've become a much less of a city-person since leaving DC and that is a really good thing. I bike, camp, hike, albeit I could do all of them more.

But I miss the languages, and the food, and of being informed about what off-Broadway shows are opening this week (as a theatre geek in high school, I was well informed on this topic). And so I am wistful for a city I have never called home.