I'll Take Manhattan-Lite

These vagabond shoes are longing to stray

New York City wakes up every morning to commuters pouring in from the outer boroughs, grabbing a coffee and bagel, and heading to work. Whether they’re 9-to-5ers, stock traders, nurses, street vendors, actors or coders, New Yorkers share one thing in common: They stick together, especially when the chips are down, because they love their city.  

My boyfriend and I live right across the Hudson from Manhattan; it’s just a 10-minute ride through the Lincoln Tunnel to see great theater, the latest movies and dance performances, and cutting-edge art shows. We walk the streets eating $1 slices of pizza and drink strong coffees from the corner Bodegas. We live in New Jersey, but we love having fun in New York. You could say we have dual residency. 

My love for Manhattan goes back to the 1960s when my mother and I ventured into the city to see movies and dine at Woolworth’s lunch counter. Once, my mother bought me a gold-plated bracelet with charms of the Empire State Building, Statue of Liberty and the high-kicking Rockettes. I cherished that bracelet and wore it to school long after my wrist turned a minty green.

As high schoolers, we took class trips to the Metropolitan Museum of Art and as 20-somethings, we joined friends for meet-ups at the Lincoln Center fountain. I took writing classes at the New School and performed in off-Off Broadway theaters that were church basements with small stages and folding chairs. When I started dating my handsome boyfriend, we kissed under its streetlights, and fell in love over hot chocolates at Café Reggio on MacDougal Street. 

Since the Covid-19 pandemic, my boyfriend and I have curtailed our trips to the city. No theater. No art galleries. No falafel sandwiches while strolling Greenwich Village. Instead, we shelter-in-place and watch Governor Andrew Cuomo’s daily updates on the coronavirus and its impact on New York. So far, New York City has been hit the hardest of all U.S. cities with 193,000 confirmed cases (as of May 19) and 15,786 deaths. That’s 35 percent of the nation’s total, and a below the belt kick to a city that 19 years ago, on 9/11, lost 3,000 people in the World Trade Center terrorist attacks. No doubt about it, New Yorkers keep taking it on the chin.

You gotta be tough to handle New York and Governor Cuomo’s the guy. He tells it like it is and New Yorkers are grateful. He talks stats. He talks truth. When asked by a smug reporter why he won’t open up New York sooner, and that people are feeling the financial pinch, he said nothing’s worse than death, and no one should have to die to re-open the economy. 

Governor Cuomo speaks truth because New Yorkers – and all Americans – deserve the truth. We deserve a sane plan we can trust that will get everyone back to work and having fun safely, instead of forcing us to find a shred of truth among the muck of conspiracy theories promoted for political sway. Science must lead, not politics, and not crazy people. Americans have been left to survive by our wits, abandoned by a so-called leader who claims “no responsibility” for the creek we’re up without a paddle. If this is America’s new normal, how will we ever survive?

When Governor Cuomo decides what New York’s ‘new normal’ will look like, Manhattan will be different from what we remember, more like a Manhattan-lite. And yet, it all seems like an impossible undertaking. The city’s streets were busy thoroughfares with people shoulder-to-shoulder dashing to their appointments. How will they social distance on 42nd Street? Can singles flirt over a romantic dinner wearing face masks? How do you share movie popcorn sitting six seats apart? 

Until that new normal happens, New Yorkers – and the rest of Americans who take the coronavirus seriously – will be dealing with the overwhelming stress to survive, to be safe, to find work, to make money, to feed ourselves, to pay our rent, to keep our home, to school our children. And while we’re trying to keep our heads above water, our loved ones die alone. We kiss our newborn grandchildren through a plate glass window. We roam our empty apartments, yearning for companionship, as we pray for this nightmare to end.

So, until it’s safe to go back, I will be rooting for New York from across the Hudson, eager for the day my boyfriend and I can once again see a Broadway show, visit some art galleries and slurp down our favorite, cheesy pizza slice. 

Even if we have to chew it behind face masks, who cares. We’ll be back in the city that takes it on the chin, rolls with the punches and never gives up—a city just like us! 

See you next week!