Arrival in New York

May 2018

            On the adventure to rediscover my dream, I was on the bus riding into Manhattan on the affable "china bus" for 15.5 hours for the price of $30(Not kidding). It was in the early afternoon meaning it was the peak of rush hour. The traffic coming into the city was heavy but unlike Atlanta, the car count was more extreme.  A close friend met me in Chinatown because of his concern about my arrival in an unfamiliar area. My first reaction stepping off the bus staring down at the trash bags along the sidewalk was frank.

            "It looks awful."

            Laughing, He responded, "Welcome to New York." as he embraced me. Before, I waited to see him on different conditions.  The plan was for me to move there after he set a foundation but in the middle of his attempt to make the big move, he fell to the harsh reality of New York.

            "You should have come sooner. I had everything set up months ago."

            Without going into to details, I'll say that my friend interactions with the city finding employment, holding down a place to stay and finding a suitable partner simply didn't hold up in the long run. He looked at me and said that the people who   live he isn't caring like they are at home. We began the walk to the infamous subway that has captured my eye on every film set in New York. I held my brother's army bag full of my belongings close to me as I remembered horror stories of thief.

            The trains made me nervous to say the least. Metro cards were available at the machines next to the entrance and the fare for a one-way trip was 2.75, 0.25 cents more than Marta. The transit system itself was heavy on passengers constantly milling and moving.  People walked along the platform as if it was theirs and theirs alone. My friends, who was accustom to this, made it loud and clear that New Yorkers were self obsessed assholes.

            "They just walk like they're the best shit on the planet. I'm not afraid to tell them to they face!"

            Sometimes, I think that this city had a real negative affect on people who moved here. Before, my friend was nice. Now, he was on a warpath. Anyone in his way was mere shadow he stepped on the concrete payment that was hard and rough like he had become.

            We walked through the rest of China town. I observed what I came to know later as the Kim Lau memorial, which had a statue of a Chinese official, and honoring the Asian American that served the United States. Southern as I was, I'd never even seen a statue of a Chinese's person except on National Geographic's channel. Chinatown itself was busy. People walking pass each other in haste.

            My friend picked up my oversized army bag and on we went to the subway. The air smelled of fish as if I was in a famer's market and the corners were filled with independent vendors selling goods. I notice that every restaurant we pass had an underground access point to the basement. My friend remembered that I was from Georgia and the confusion was written on my face.

           

            He explained simply that ever restaurant in New York was the same. People used it to exit for smoke breaks and to let cool air in when the heat from cooking got overwhelming.

            An interesting concept for a city over populated as it was.

            Upon the entrance to the subway, I was met with the same machine system of transit that had been outdated in Atlanta for at least ten years. Instead of the plastic reusable cards, which are mandatory if you want to ride Atlanta transit, we were to use laminated card to swipe. I struggled getting through the entrance as my swipe was either too slow, too fast, or just plain wrong. 

            On the train, I nearly had a heart attack from the constant sudden jerk and pull of the train. Before I simply imagine flicker lights but once aboard, I felt uneasy. Not only because the motion of the train was unpredictable but also the unsettling way the passenger were unconcern with it. They rode the train focusing on other things. Phones, books and conversation.

            We went through twenty stops before getting off at the Broadway connector in Brooklyn. There I saw a different side of New York. A more dirty, less concerned part that could only be further described as, "A ghetto." So many black people were standing, commuting, and vining to their streets. This is were I began counting the "Crown" restaurants passed on the way to my Air BNB.