It was a heck of a knock to the ego. A trip to post-pandemic New York City full of re-opening Broadway shows and cultural attractions, shopping and good food, lots of lazy strolls through the most exciting city on the planet. But what makes one of the highlights for my 15-year-old daughter?
Semi-befriending a rat in Central Park.
What does that say about my planning? My inability to create the perfect fall getaway to Manhattan?
Or maybe it says something more about her big heart. Her inability to look down on any living creature.
It wasn’t one of those subway rats, it should be noted. More of a country rat. It wore overalls and could have passed for a squirrel if only it had a bushy tale. But it was a rat all the same, and you don’t drop this kind of cash to stare at vermin!
Either way, it’s part of what makes New York such a unique experience, no matter what you do or where you go.
There’s always some adventure to be had. Like when we saw a bunch of New Yorkers in the park frantically chasing a brightly-colored flying insect. One of them had pulled off a shoe and was screaming, “Quick! Kill it!”
New Yorkers are serious, and crazy! Was this one of the early signs that smartly-dressed Upper Westsiders were about to turn into a horde of stumbling zombies?
Turns out, they were trying to their duty in eradicating the spotted lanternfly, a bug with beautiful red and white wings. But it’s an invasive species that is highly destructive to native trees and even agriculture, and it’s loose in the city. You can find articles with under-stated headlines like: “We must come together and kill the dreaded spotted lanternflies.” (That is an actual article. You can Google it!)
New York is funny because you can get caught up in things like that on the most mundane stroll down the street. Or walking back from the park and being enveloped in an anti-vaccination march. Uh, how did that happen? But we ARE vaccinated! Wait, does that mean that you all aren’t? And how did I end up with this “Don’t vax me in” sign in my hand?
Or trying to cut through Times Square on the way to a show and getting swept up in a gaggle of dancing, chanting Hare Krishnas. They all decided to start parading JUST as we walked by. Once again, enveloped. But we are not Hare Krishnas! Where are the anti-vaxxers when you need them? How did I end up with this drum in my hand!?!
Old New York has also gone high tech. Even more so after the pandemic. It’s a city where you can do everything with your phone or through other electronic devices. Pay. Order food. Get tickets. Distract the Hare Krishnas with your flashlight while you run away. I love it. Quick. Convenient. All about the touch-free “tap.”
But then it all goes south in the Subway when you try to refill your Metrocard. Because for all of the tech in the world – all the incredible advancements and achievements – I can’t master the Metrocard machine’s old school credit card “dip.” It takes a magical touch. Knowing just how long – but not too long! – to dip your card into the slot so the machine can process it. Otherwise, it rejects you and asks you to try again … 13,000 times!
I was horrendous with it. Just couldn’t get it right. Over and over again. My daughter could. She gets it no problem. But not me.
Nothing screams, “I ain’t from around here,” like the inability to do the most basic, fundamentally-simple tasks like paying for a Metrocard. All the while, grumbling New Yorkers formed up in a line behind me that stretched to Battery Park. “Can’t you see we have to kill the spotted lanternflies!?!” they shouted at me.
Patience wears thin quickly in New York. Normally I love that about the place. People are in a hurry. They’re go-go-go. There’s never enough time, and everyone’s trying to cram as much as they can into the handful of milliseconds they’ve been rationed. They walk fast. They eat fast. They’re forever in constant motion. They’re quick on the car horn. They move like atoms spit out of a nuclear explosion.
I love it. All my life, I’m trying to tell my frenetic, hyperactive, over-charged self that I need to slow down. Level off my pace. Focus. Take it all in and not let the world race by so quickly. But then I go to New York and I’m in my element. Swept-up by the frenetic pace. Surrounded and swallowed by it. Enveloped.
It doesn’t matter what the experience is. Chasing invasive insects. Hanging with the Hare Krishnas. Figuring out the Metrocard machine. Befriending a woodsy rat in Central Park. Sometimes you find the little unforeseen moments can be as memorable as the more expensive, planned ones.