The Honeymoon & The 2-Train

 New York Public Library

The Honeymoon was supposed to be over by now. Not our actual honeymoon – that has yet to be planed (our wedding blog-post coming soon), but the love affair with this city. By now, we were supposed to be regretting the move and yearning for a better place. By all accounts, we should have pealed back the patina of bright lights and late-night sirens, but instead the luster of the city shines on as if we’d just stepped foot here not but a day ago.

 Smithsonian National Museum of the American Indian

The city still invigorates us as we delve deeper into its core. With it come the pros and cons of city life and nothing is ever as it seems, but for us New York embraces something special. Our daily walks and in-and-outs of old taverns, museums, libraries, restaurants and movie theaters present a pace worth following into the unforeseeable future. Even the subway has its appeal…

 Fraunce’s Tavern, NYC

 Fraunce’s Tavern, NYC

With a belly full of rich food and one too many drink, I wait for the 2-Train as the thick and nasty air of the underground turns a beaded sweat into a flow of dampening madness around my neck. The clanging of tracks and outdated hardware will soon rock me back and forth as it screeches and yells with each minor turn. But until then, one by one, the crazies ooze down the stairwell and drape themselves over the chipped wooden benches beside me; their caravan of random luxuries bagged in black below their feet. To the right, a man spits on the tracks while his companion shouts aloud her intentions to “kill that muthaf#!@$ over there!” Yet when I look, there is no muthaf#!@$ to be found. Next to each wildly insane him or her stands a student or a nun or a mother or a suit, all of which just stare into outer space pretending not to be affected by what is most likely a regular occurrence to them by now.

 NYC Metro

In contrast, the faint note, held long and sweet by a young subway musician, acts as an all too appropriate Hitchcockian soundtrack. That one note, soon accompanied by many more equally as pleasing, makes the scene seem appropriate and comfortable. It takes away the dead heat and odd behavior and replaces it with a cinematic dream world of beyond normal circumstance. The music lingers in the air just long enough for the 2-Train to roll up and open its doors for a few seconds before forcing them closed. The music gone and the fragile and dissimilar patients aboard – we jerk with the start of the trip, onward and uptown.

 The Streets of New York


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