In three days I learned one simple rule about the city of New York. No one runs it. It stands on it's own, and defines itself as the capital of America. It is the most beautiful space I've laid eyes on. Invaded by the many people who whiz through it's street, New York is the holder of American citizens. It allows it's own citizens to become ghosts. It swallows you in it's massiveness and dares you to get lost through the amazing subway tunnels and wide sea of yellow cabs. You can truly be gone in a New York minute. With that being said, New York makes me feel free. The people of New York are who they want to be, without shame, bold in spirit, unafraid like the State.
I met a psychic in Manhattan on 8th Avenue. She looked into my eyes and read my soul as if New York was only occupied by the two of us. It was as if she studied me before I walked into the door, and when I left, I felt inspired; ready to take ahold of my own destiny and run full force into the greatness she claimed I am destined for. It was after that reading that I knew I had to take New York and not let New York take me. I started off on my journey on the number 2 train to uptown. Not being from New York, you hear all these crazy stories about the things that happen on the subway system and how it is unsafe. If it is unsafe, I never got the chance to see it. What I did see was a powerful underground system, that in itself is a whole other world for people to live in. There is a party on every train in New York.
You can't escape the noise. Above ground I hear cars and Taxi's honk at one another to move along, above ground you hear stories that are meant to be held as secrets and left behind in the underground. New York citizens make money underground as much as they do above. Children dance for loose change, musicians play to be discovered, and artists build and carve things out of soda cans. It is the place where having a dream doesn't seem like it's that far away. With every beat of a drum being played in the subway you move closer and closer to where you ought to be. It is the place where inspiration was born. Where Hollywood stars are tossed in your view teasing you with their display of success, but showing you that you can have it to. Success is born in New York.
When the number 2 train came to a halt on 125th street, I spilled out, ran up a flight of steps and walked into a city of history, of struggle, and beautiful life. Harlem stole my heart the moment I stepped foot on it's concrete. I felt like I was at home. That I had arrived to a place where the people look like me. It is the Black Mecca of the world. Harlem shows you how important it is by the names of it's streets. A lot of the streets are named after civil rights leaders, black inventors, and other important people of history. Marcus Garvey has a park named after him that sits right in the middle of Harlem. I saw Martin Luther King Jr., and Malcolm X's face plastered on the side of a hot dog stand. You can buy anything in Harlem. Reggae CD's for $1.00, buttons with Civil rights leaders on them, African oils and jewelry, New York Gangsta DVD's, and the latest Urban fiction novel all for a low price. The history of hip hop is told and sold right here on 125th. It is amazing. The famous Apollo theater is here.
I spent 5 hours in Harlem, and never left a 6 block radius. There were so many people to see, so many people to watch. I even saw a chess game being played by elder men just like on television. It was here that I saw so many young people and I felt so proud, so happy for them, that they had the chance to be raised around so much culture and inspiration. I stopped a group of women chatting in Harlem and asked them where the nail shops are. I hadn't seen a single one around the area I was in. They were polite women, who welcomed my friend and I to New York by showing us how to hail a cab. We looked around and did not see any yellow taxis which we thought was strange.
In Manhattan taxis are everywhere. It was then that they explained there are gypsy cabs in Harlem. They are black Lincoln town cars and they charge customers whatever fee they want to take them throughout the city. They do not have meters on them. The ladies warned us, don't pay more than $7.00 and instructed us to go to 116th and Lexington to get my nails done. We paid $8.00 for the cab. After I got my nails and eyebrows done, I walked out of the nail shop and right back down a flight of steps into the underground world of the subways. It's that easy to come and go. To appear and disappear.
My friend and I took the number 2 train back to Manhattan. We figured we'd get back off on 42nd street and end up where we got on, but instead we got the surprise of our life when we exited the subway. We found ourselves right in the middle of Times Square. The big city lights blinded me and mesmerized me. The sea of people trampled by me, as I stayed planted in my movement, in awe, looking around like a kid in a candy store. I got my feet ran over by a tourist walking by with her suitcase and she didn't dare apologize. She was in a rush, to see as much as she could I suppose, and I couldn't even blame her or get mad that she hadn't acknowledged me.
I turned to my friend, smiled wide and said "Trice, this is Times Square.. you know the spot we watch from our couches in Minnesota on New Years Eve and watch the ball drop while wishing we were there." We laughed, we walked, we shopped. Times Square was overwhelming. In less than thirty minutes I couldn't take much more of it. It is tourist nation, where you can buy 2 for 1 comedy show tickets from random men begging you to purchase a ticket. It's a place where fast talkers can convince you to buy anything if you listen to slow. Times Square is not where time is kept. It is where time is lost.
On my second day in NYC, I boarded the F train to Queens. It was an hour long ride where my friend and I sat and talked, pouring out our secrets, our desires, our fears. We got off on 169th street right at a coffee shop. This was perfect considering it was early in the morning and I needed a serious pick me up from the beating I'd taken a day before. The coffee shop was owned by a Latino family, who welcomed us in and gave us a place to kick our feet up if only for a moment. I saw a beautiful painting of the Queensboro bridge painting while enjoying my coffee.
Afterwards, my friend and I walked to the Jamaica mall which also has an outside mall to do more shopping. It was here that we met a lot of beautiful people, some funny, trying to sale us anything they could. Knock off Jordan's for $40.00. True Religion outfits for half price. A DJ played inside the window of a furniture store and I thought to myself, it's really a party everywhere in NYC. There were hundreds of people walking in the outside mall and each store blared it's own sales pitch through loud speakers. You'd walk past one store and hear the best deal of your life, then the next store would be playing the hottest hip hop track. It was unlike anything I'd ever seen but I enjoyed being a queen in Queens, NY.
What should have been another hour long ride back to Manhattan turned into a two hour long ride because we boarded the wrong train. We got lost and we had fun getting lost. I ended up heading over to have a late dinner in Brooklyn at the famous Junior's restaurant before we went back to Manhattan. By the time I got back to my hotel room my feet burned, my body ached, but my heart was filled with love. I love New York. New York had done it's job. It wore me out. But it didn't conquer me. One thing I know is that I will be back. There is no other place I could ever imagine that could compare to what this city did for me. It gave me hope. New York inspired me.
By,
Michelle D. Jones
