On Friday, I have a lunch in midtown Manhattan with my best friend from high school. Now, it’s not that I’m not happy about seeing my old friend—I am. But I’m also excited about seeing another old friend, New York, again.
I have not set foot in New York City in more than a year. How is that even possible?
For most of my life, New York has been the destination. For many years, I had an office there. I went to ballgames there. I went to concerts there. I went to restaurants there. I went to museums there. Once went to a bar where everything was made of ice (Minus5 Ice Experience where the experience included use of parka and gloves). I gave tours to out-of-state friends, when they visited. I had an office at 30 Rockefeller Center, even lucky enough to attend an SNL taping. There were Rangers games at the Garden with my sister; table tennis with Amy and friends at SPIN New York 23; hold on now— a flood of memories is coming through.
There were off-Broadway plays like Dinner with the Boys where Amy and I went out afterwards with actor Dan Lauria to meet up at an actor’s hangout. Or the MLB Food Fest, where we sampled food from all 30 ballparks. There were connections made with Wyatt and Heath from New Jersey to Brooklyn’s Barclays Center—with a stop at Suprema Pizza on Eighth Avenue, across the street from the Garden—a must before making the trek to Brooklyn. Because, well, it’s not enough to have good pizza. You might as well go the extra effort and get the best.
There were times I would take Alissa out of school and take her to the city on the day of Stars in the Alley, when Broadway musicals would perform for free in legendary Shubert Alley, west of Seventh Avenue. Or perhaps she met me as I was working in New York that day; the first day she took public transportation into the city by herself (an important rite-of-passage for anyone from NJ).
There were days I took my mother for her birthday to the Museum of Modern Art. Or when Amy and I ate dinner at Scott Conant’s restuarant down around 14th street. There were countless bowling holiday parties down at Bowlmor. Chelsea Piers is great, but what part of the city isn’t? How many celebrity sightings do you see just walking around? A lot, in my case over the years, including on the Upper West Side, where John Lithgow was at the next table at a cafe; and even more thrilling, I once shared an elevator with Sandra Bernhard. Against all odds, Amy and I literally bumped into Tommy Lasorda not 10 years ago at the Feast of San Gennaro on Mulberry.
And in the same city that I saw Elvis Costello and the Attractions on the Pier for next-to-nothing in 1983; I would take Amy a few years ago for her birthday to see Bette Midler in Hello Dolly, for, let’s just say more money than I’ve ever laid out to see a concert.
In the 70s, I went there with my high school friends Dana and Andre; taking the PATH train from Harrison, NJ. Don’t even remember if we had a reason or event we were headed to. We were going into the City, and without a lot (any?) money to spend.
In the 80s, it was a place to meet with friends that lived in Long Island. And when I started working in the City, there were places that stayed open late. Real late. Going to the Carnegie Deli, the food almost always tasted better after midnight, for some reason.
And then, there are the subways. I might be the rarity, but I always loved the subways.
Just the other day, my son Heath remarked that the two of us met up in Penn Station (he had taken a train in from Stony Brook; me from Secaucus) and we took a packed (and I mean, packed like sardines) subway to Yankee Stadium for Game Five of the 2019 ALCS—October 18, 2019—still at this minute, the last game at Yankee Stadium with fans in attendance.
There were more than 48,000 fans at the Stadium that night, watching the Yankees stave off elimination by beating Justin Verlander and sending the ALCS back to Houston.
A few months later—on March 17, 2020—I would drive Heath to pack up his college dorm room and drop off his key. The rest of the spring semester would be remote. On this trip, we saw the billboards on the highways alerting people about COVID-19. One of Heath’s roommates was moving out at the same time; and his dad had secured enough wipes to wipe everything down. The stores by me were out. Everything changed, including going to the City.
March 17, 2021. I am double-vaxxed. I have plans in midtown on Friday. Do I drive in? Take the Park-and-Ride? Take the train? The ferry? Over the years, I’ve done everything but swim over the Hudson. I have vivid memories of each form of transportation to get into NYC. I took the ferry on 9/13/01, hustling to get to 23rd and Lexington where we taped Inside the NFL. The studio was not far from the New York Armory, which served as a Family Assistance Center for the people that had not heard from loved ones that were in the Twin Towers on the morning of the attack. I’ll never forget the crying people clutching photos and descriptions of their loved ones, headed into the City and the Armory, refusing to give up hope. On the ferry, and going downtown, you could still smell the smoldering flames.
There were days I felt trapped in traffic trying to get through the Lincoln Tunnel (either in my car or on a bus). And then, I would remember taking my shit-box Monte Carlo car into the city for a Billy Joel concert when I was a teenager; and the car broke down in the tunnel. The only thing worse than sitting in traffic is being the cause of such traffic.
When my family moved back east to New Jersey in the middle of sixth grade; my second day in a new school was spent taking a field trip to New York. I don’t know why I remember the dividing line separating New Jersey from New York in the tunnel then. It must have seemed like I was being taken to some mysterious place very, very far away.
I grew up in a town about 20-miles away from Manhattan. My first apartment after college was about 10-miles away (or, half the distance to the goal line). My second apartment was in Fort Lee, on the 1-yard line (as football fans would say). I was close enough to sneak in by walking over the George Washington Bridge.
I have always been in the Red Zone, then, close enough to cross the goal line with some clever planning.
I’ve always loved New York. I’ve loved a lot of other cities, but come on. It’s always had the best pizza places, the best comedy clubs, the best of just about everything. Friends tell me I might not recognize it now, it feels so different from pre-pandemic life.
They say most New Yorkers won’t be returning to a full-time in-office work schedule anytime soon, either. Less than half of Manhattan’s million office employees will resume in-person by September. For some reason, that fills me with sadness.
There was a great movie that came out in 1979. In the opening of the movie, the narrator states, “He adored New York City… New York was his town, and it always would be.” The visuals are a montage of street scenes and skylines, fancy shops and restaurants, a flood-lit baseball stadium with an elevated train snaking along in front of it. Cue the Gershwin music.
For some reason, you didn't mention enjoying being in NYC for the St. Patrick's Day parade!