When you get used to all this cool shit in NYC and the novelty of the skyscrapers and iconic landmarks begins to wear off, when the not-so-huddled masses become the typical background to your daily life as opposed to a constant amazement, the wonder doesn’t go completely away. It lies low, subdued and watchful; it rumbles under your affairs, gives soul to the environment. Sure, it gets forgotten much of the time but then something will bring it back, retrieve…
Sometimes NYC reminds me of Cuba, that life-lived-out-in-the-open vibe. But here everyone is in their own bubble—each person, couple, or small group of friends—and doesn’t necessarily interact much with each other beyond basic pleasantries. There are so many overlapping bubbles instead of one over-arching, inclusive bubble like in Cuba.
Fire alarms in the middle of the night in hotels are so strangely wonderful. To see everyone milling around in the parking lot in a fog of annoyance and curiosity: families with young tired kids, dudes in boxers and bare feet, women in night gowns. Everyone just exhausted and human, without their usual artifice and control, sympathetic to each other’s plight. The great equalizer.