New York City

This afternoon, on my last day in New York City, a woman asked me for directions — and I was actually able to answer her.

Whether or not she got to her destination…

You have to understand, I’ve only been to NYC a handful of times, for work or weddings. Quick 48-hour visits. Add to that fact my general cluelessness, and you have the equivalent of a child arriving for his first day of kindergarten.

That said, a few thoughts and experiences:

New Yorkers are great. Nice. Helpful. Interesting. The cliche about them couldn’t be more wrong. I met a couple of pains in the ass, but that’s just earth.

The ‘expensive’ reputation — understatement. Wow. The sole bargain I noticed was three bucks for the subway.

Stuff to see in every direction. Sensory overload. The museums are truly outstanding. In particular, the exhibits inside the Museum of Natural History. But everywhere outside, it’s natural hottery. And I’m not talking about the humidity.

I had one big bang… A fantastic space exhibit in the aforementioned museum.

I also learned that my weight on the moon is 26.3 pounds. I get the laws of gravity, but after four weeks of gorging in New York, that number can’t be right.

Pizza. I was surprised. Skeptical Chicagoan. If I had to choose one meal before going to an executioner, it would be deep dish Lou Malnati’s. But NY pizza is great in its own way. As my native NYC friend and master chef Allison Task distilled it:

“New York pizza is a snack. Chicago, that’s an investment.”

She always was a great writer. I met Allison 20 years ago when she spent a month in Chicago. Friends ever since. Balance paid. Happily.

Broadway. I saw three outstanding shows, including Hamilton. I pushed it too far by going to the fourth: The Outsiders. The rugged “greaser” characters from S.E. Hinton’s 1967 novel and classic Coppola flick should not be twirling around and jumping off a pickup truck on a stage. In that moment, I was reminded of the classic line from Seinfeld:

“I can’t watch a man sing a song… It’s embarrassing.”

Hamilton is one thing. But let’s not ruin iconic 80s films.

There’s a long, elevated walkway called The High Line in Chelsea. Amazing views. But you could also use that term to describe the smoke on every block in New York. Good thing I’ve always liked the aroma of weed.

Gotham was not difficult to navigate. More manageable than I expected. Again, I’m a native Chicagoan, “the city that works.” But transportation was easy and every area I went to was pretty well kept. Aside from Mamdani’s position opposing my people’s Jewish State, folks don’t seem to think the city is materially worse since he took over. At least not yet. I trust cab drivers’ opinions most.

The best random experience I had was on my way out of The Met. I saw a young woman sitting on the floor, sketching one of the statues in the main hall. Her name was Britta and she was in town from Portland. Our conversation lasted over half an hour. Small talk at first, but then we exchanged stories about mental health struggles. She was so honest and generous in conveying her experiences, and was totally fine with me writing about our time together.

I’ll be sharing more about Britta soon. But I found it inspiring that two strangers from different cities, decades apart in age, could immediately find common ground on how the lows in our lives became launchpads. It was also a reminder that with all of the man-made boundaries that divide us today in countless, silly ways, we’re all just little grains of sand wandering around a tiny star in a universe (of stars) that we’ve yet to determine the size of.

I may have a bit of a museum hangover.

One thing New York confirmed — not that I needed it — is that my manic mind and scattered attention span is forever. All of the attractions were a feast for the senses. Not one of them could stop me from getting distracted.

And if you think I’m exaggerating, I wrote half of this in front of a fascinating gorilla exhibit.

Thank you, NYC. You lived up to the hype. I’ll be back.

MICHAEL GOLDEN is a national award-wining journalist, author of Unlock Congress and the cofounder of One Million Degrees.

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