The New New York City

Every time I have traveled to the Big Apple—including the trip I took with my family this past weekend—I have been a tourist. New York City has been a target vacation spot for at least three summer vacations, and I have enjoyed the trip every time. Yet, after returning from Europe (and all of my travels there), I find myself much less impressed with New York City this time around.

When I was younger (as in 8 or 15), New York City enchanted me. Seeing open-air grocery markets on the streets alongside quaint-looking delis over-towered by gigantic apartment buildings and office complexes, I was mesmerized by the vast array and diversity the city offered. You could buy your groceries at a hole-in-the-wall convenience store, a street-corner fruit stand, an ethnic specialty shop, or (of course) a regular supermarket. You could stand and watch buskers on the street for a fifty-cent donation or sit and watch Broadway performers onstage for upwards of $150. I remember the wonder and awe I felt for all of the people in the city—the various skin colors, languages, hairstyles, and apparel passing me by on the bus, subway, or sidewalk. It was thrilling to take in so much diversity at once.

On this past trip, however, the city did not strike me as nearly so impressive. Certainly, the buildings were taller than any I had seen in Europe. They would have to be, to accommodate all of the people crowding the streets! The advertising was flashier (TV screen billboards, fluorescent-lit signs, blinking lightbulbs), at least on certain avenues, and this time everything was in American English. However, this was the first time I felt that New York city was just another city. For the first time in my life, I was not excited simply to be there, as I had every visit before. Now, buskers are old news. New York street performers aren’t any better than those I had seen in Madrid or Dublin or Paris. Brighton had just as many ethnic grocery stores and restaurants per block as New York City, and the fresh fruit and flowers being sold on the curbside no longer seem particularly special or unusual. Granted, Pittsburgh lacks these commodities, but Europe had them all and more. None of these features—which once seemed so unusual and exotic—seem unique anymore.

Without a doubt, Broadway is spectacular—there’s no denying that. This past weekend’s trip to NYC was my parents’ high school graduation gift to my sister. Amy opted to go to travel to New York to see Broadway shows over having a graduation party. (When I graduated high school, I too opted for a trip over a party. I chose San Francisco.) We saw three shows: Altar Boyz, Hairspray, and A Chorus Line. They were all incredible, in their own unique ways. Altar Boyz consisted of 5 boys (or should I call them men? Late twenties is hard to classify) performing a variety of Christian-themed numbers in order to “save the souls” of audience members. They reminded me of what N’Sync might have been like, had their act had a creative religious theme and been staged on Broadway. Hairspray was a traditional musical in the sense that it had a plot carried along by numerous singing and dancing chorus numbers. It reminded me of Grease or Bye Bye Birdie in terms of its energy and setting (1960s), only I never saw those musicals on Broadway, and therefore could never be as impressed by them as I was by Hairspray. The voices in this show were phenomenal. Our last show, A Chorus Line, was structured around a bunch of performers auditioning for a Broadway show. However, each performer had a story to tell that was unique to his/her character, so the show actually ended up being about the trials and tribulations of Broadway business across ages and cultures. The performers’ voices were a bit disappointing after having been spoiled by those in Hairspray, but I suppose the producers had to sacrifice at least a little something in order to find such incredible dancers as this show required. The dance numbers—particularly the opening series—were fabulous.

Everything considered, I had a good time being a tourist once again in New York. However, I took this trip with a second motive in mind. In less than one calendar year, I will be graduating from the University of Rochester. This is a terrifying thought, because it means that in the next few months, I need to decide what I want to do next in my life. Do I want to go to graduate school? If so, what do I want to study? In order to decide what to study, I need to know what sort of a career I want to pursue. Is a master’s degree even necessary for that career? I have considered going into publishing all of my adolescent life (not counting grade school, because back then I wanted to be an opera singer), and that is still a very viable option. What position within that field I might want to take, however, is still a complete mystery. Meanwhile, although I have always been adamantly against teaching, I am beginning to imagine what it might be like to teach college-level creative writing. I would need a Ph.D. for that, so it would make sense to go to graduate school immediately, if that is my objective. I just don’t know what I want to do!

No matter which path I choose, I realize that I may need to move to a large city to accomplish my goals. New York definitely qualifies as one of these large cities, as it has a lot of publishing opportunities as well as Columbia University (a potential graduate school for writing). During our trip, we visited Columbia just to walk around the campus. I tried to envision myself attending school there. Would I like living in such a large, dirty, crowded, busy, impersonal, expensive city

I was startled to realize that this was my impression of the city. I never thought of New York so negatively before I began considering a future in it. Certainly, there are positive aspects to living in the city—Broadway in my backyard being one. However, New York City no longer seems the “land of opportunity” I once imagined it to be.

I can’t help wondering if there might be equally viable publishing or graduate degree opportunities back in England. By the time I need to decide what to do and where to go, I may not miss England as much as I do now, and I may be ready to relocate to a new, exciting city like New York. Right now, though, I really miss England.