There is a reason they say New York City is the greatest place on Earth. Maybe it’s because “You’ve Got Mail” has always been one of my favorite movies, but I really can’t argue with this grand claim. Though I would have loved to spend fall break with my parents — and my cats, of course — I instead decided to road trip to the Big Apple with several of my closest friends. After a seven-hour drive amid torrential downpours, complemented by a series of panic attacks, the glitter of skyscrapers upon the horizon immediately induced a calm within the car.
Strolling around Washington Square Park, lamb gyro in hand, I can honestly say I have never seen so many strange humans in my lifetime — and I loved every second of it. Next to the grand piano, which played Beethoven for half an hour, was both a giddy old woman watching in awe and an overweight bearded dude sprawled out tanning while laying across a bench. Thank the sun gods for those rare October ultraviolet rays. I dug into my cross-body purse to find my disposable camera. Wind. Flash. Snap. History.
Hours after inhaling our glorious street food, we ventured around the boutiques of SoHo, where I spent half of my savings on clothing and shoes — completely unnecessary, given the status of my ever-bulging closet, but, nonetheless, completely therapeutic. I am beginning to think my genetic code lacks the alarm signaling you to stop shopping. New York’s endless options only serve to exacerbate this personal handicap.
The day quickly turned into night, and with the darkness came that shimmering glow of window lights. This night, though, presented a mood far different from that first feeling of calm. While I cannot include New York’s nightlife in my average “perfect day,” grooving in a club is perfectly acceptable if taken in small doses.
The entire concept of the nightclub is just weird. Incredibly loud music and overpriced cocktails really provide a sheltered and intimate setting for someone to make friends and find a life partner. Note the sarcasm. Maybe I’m antisocial, but unless I already know a group of people going to this glorified bar, there is a slim chance I am going to seek out new meaningful friendships.
Personally, I enjoy being able to wear yoga pants out on a Thursday night — so thank you, Charlottesville, and cue theme song to “Cheers.” Despite the nightclub’s odd environment, my friends and I made use of our time in the city and danced like fools.
The overwhelming, overcrowded nightclubs, however, did serve as the perfect real-life analogy for New York. While Frank Sinatra may have been correct about the city that never sleeps, looking back on our long weekend, I have to argue with his idea about becoming king of the hill. There is no king of the hill in this town. I often forget New York is home to people other than university students and yuppies who attend said nightclubs, but each time I arrive I realize I am a crumb in the bread bin.
The diversity — and not just the ethnicity or race, but of lifestyle, taste and opportunity — is both overwhelming and electrifying. There is something enlightening about being surrounded by the unfamiliar, feeling both in and out of place — all depending on how you to decide to inhabit the city. The feeling of insignificance is liberating — and if you think you really matter in this city, you’re probably doing it wrong.
Alli’s column runs biweekly Wednesdays. She can be reached at a.lank@cavalierdaily.com.
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