The Insomniac Youth
When we landed, it was much chillier than Charlotte. It was a grey day with overcast skies. I didn’t mind it because I personally love gloomy weather. Everything looks more emotionally evoked almost as if it’s a sign of something bigger than life. The last time I was here was to see Kid Cudi at the Roseland Ballroom with Ben for my 18th birthday. What Kid Cudi was to me at the time, was what I thought I’d be to someone else by this time, but I’m not. That was 7 years ago. Like Los Angeles, I told myself the next time I’d be back to New York City, I’d have something to my name. A degree, a New York Times Best-Selling novel, perhaps even a record deal. Back then, I’d never thought I’d come back to the greatest city in the world empty-handed, yet here I was.
On our way to the AirBnb in Bed-Stuy, the roads were congested with traffic. The sound of horns, brakes, and screams contributed to the unwanted air pollution of many. Me though? I loved it. Life seemed more saturated up here, a different kind of colorful from back home. There were many different things going on with many different people. Kids playing hoops on rims with no nets. Mechanics fixing cars parallel-parked in the streets. Students with backpacks lining the sidewalks in hopes for a brighter future. During a few of the many stoplights I encountered on the way to Brooklyn, I noticed a sign on the back window of multiple public-school buses. With a white background and red lettering, they read ‘THIS VEHICLE HAS BEEN CHECKED FOR SLEEPING CHILDREN.’ I knew they didn’t have these signs back home, neither did they have them when I was a kid living upstate in Warwick so I searched it up.
Apparently the sign is designed to be placed on the back window of the bus as the driver has to check for sleeping children on their way to place the sign. Since being implemented, this helps a great bit to prevent missing children. Seeing this triggered me to remember details about my childhood I had previously forgot. When I was young, my bus driver Ms. Barbara was one of the coolest ladies. Ms. Barbara was a taller, tan, thinner older lady who wore sunglasses all the time. She spoke with a raspy, yet comforting voice. She would play radio stations on the bus, Z100, and the few times I did fall asleep on the way home, she ended up dropping everyone off and then came back around to drop me home last. Come to think about it, I wonder where she is these days, and I hope she’s doing well.
I have no doubt in my mind New York City is the greatest city in the world. New York is special to me in a number of different ways. The best field trip of my life was in 2nd grade where in Mrs. Carter’s class we got to go see Beauty and the Beast on Broadway. My first pair of Air Jordan’s was bought at the Champs Sports in Manhattan. Watching the ball drop every year in Times Square was tradition, except we didn’t celebrate the New Year’s, we celebrated my dad’s birthday. There’s no place in the world like New York City. NYC is the embodiment of the term the melting pot. People from all walks of life with all different types of family histories and cultural differences reside here. Walking the streets and riding the subway, you can tell everybody is so focused on themselves, their lives, and their dreams. Contrary to popular belief, this is a good thing. With people concentrating on themselves, it gives others the confidence to do the same. Nobody cares, nor is anybody paying attention to you. This is very liberating to people like myself because at times we’re more afraid of the thought of failure than failure itself.
Anything and everything is possible. That’s the sentiment New York City gives me when I’m there. Intimidating to the parts of us filled with insecurity, but welcoming to the parts of us filled with ambition. One of the nights, I was sitting in a corner of a Thai restaurant within close proximity of Times Square eating with Kev and O. We were contemplating plans for the day after and I brought up how neat it would be to visit the Hayden Planetarium, where Neil DeGrasse Tyson is the director. I told him how much I loved NDT and how I couldn’t wait for the new Cosmos to come out next year. Ad mist a visit from Noreaster, we found ourselves eating at an Indian restaurant in the upper westside the next afternoon. Next thing you know, Neil DeGrasse Tyson walks through the door to the back to eat. Long story short, I eventually got to shake his hand and had a photo taken with him and O. What are the chances?! The possibilities of this city seem endless.
That night when I got back to my room in solitude, my mind reverted to where we were staying at the AirBnb. The view from the third story of a sunny brownstone attic was one filled with renovations in progress and downtime in between, much different from the busy bee that is Manhattan. Although life was quieter here compared to other parts, the AirBnb offered a variety of outlooks for one to feel the texture of the city. I thought of how Biggie came from Bed-Stuy. From this very same neighborhood I’m in, came one of history’s most renowned rappers, someone who is deity-like in respect to his field. Unbelievable. Makes you think if he can, why can’t I? People make history every day…
At one point during the trip, I faced my fears and went to the top of the Rockefeller building, 67 floors up with the ability to go to the 68th and 69th. I was terrified, but was reminded how powerful it felt to feel in control of myself despite my fears and bouts of irrationality. Surprisingly, there were people sitting around on their cellphones on benches indoors. When I first went outside to the observatory deck, it was chilly and my legs were jelly walking 5 feet away from the edge. Of course, there were precautionary measures taken by engineers in which tall, thick pieces of glass were installed so people wouldn’t fall over the edge. Everyone was lining up at the edge taking in the views. Some took photographs, others stood in silence. After 10 minutes or so, I got comfortable enough to approach the outer parts of the deck. It was stunning. The shadows of the sunset had the city looking as ravishing as ever. The night was only beginning, the city was coming alive. Tourists and residents alike were about to embark on adventures of their own as soon as the sun parted ways with the city.
Before we left, I wanted to go to the top of the top one more time. I stood in the middle trying to engulf myself in a moment of solidarity with New York City itself. I promised it wouldn’t be 7 years before I’d come back, and I also promised not only would I have something to my name when I came back, but I’d have something to offer the city, too. I looked around and observed everyone at the top for a few seconds knowing I would never see any of these people again, but maybe, just maybe they might see me somewhere on the other side of reality in the near-future.
As I approached the elevator to the ground, I thought about the previous night riding the subway. Being an outsider to the city, I never felt my safety compromised, but I never felt like it was out of the question. I stayed off my phone and I didn’t listen to music, I simply observed every rider one by one. Not out of suspicion, but rather out of curiosity. There was a Hispanic guy and a Hispanic girl standing by the doors, holding the same pole as they conversed on a variety of topics. The guy was saying how some woman he was close to had heart valve problems. The girl showed him pictures on her phone of her nephew. Everything flowed so naturally, it was a budding love story I couldn’t help but root for. Then my mind shifted to other riders who were alone. The lady with the tan dress and white tennis shoes, what was she doing on the subway? The gentleman with the sunglasses and bookbag, where was he going? I like to entertain these thoughts when life feels too large to comprehend. It helps me focus on my life and humbles me by reminding me of my immense similarity to strangers regardless of differences we may find ourselves faced with. Out of all the places we come from and all the experiences life has provided us with, isn’t it wild we found ourselves on this same subway at the same time in the same city going to different places? Even if only for a few moments? We’re all connected somehow.
Among everyone I observed, one man stood out. He was sitting perpendicular to me. He was an older black man, maybe late 60’s if I had to guess. I remember it clearly because by his feet he had Dollar Tree bags filled with groceries. When I saw that, I thought to myself where the hell was a Dollar Tree at?! I had been paying top-dollar for basic Gatorade bottles and snacks at the local bodegas in the vicinity of my AirBnb. He was on his phone playing games for much of the ride we shared together on the subway. At one point though, he put his phone away as he shook his head and said, ‘This city is delusional, everybody acts like they’re movie stars.’ His face looked grim as he sat staring forward. I looked around to see if anyone else heard what he said, but nobody seemed to hear it. If they did, they didn't seem to care. Everyone was on their cellphones or listening to music, preoccupied with their lives at the moment.
New York City, the greatest city in the world. The big city of dreams. The concrete jungle. When I came to NYC for the first time as a kid, I was mesmerized by the lights and the amount of people walking the streets. Street performers tried to get their names out there while earning a buck for a meal ticket. Now a-days they’re aiming to go viral. Central Park had artists doing free portraits. The rush made everyone look late, but the early traffic was a sign of punctuality. Growing up, I thought I’d hit the league and play a few games in front of a full-house at Madison Square Garden. There was no doubt as I counted down to buzzer-beaters I’d hit in my driveway. Between destiny, God, and my dreams, I thought the feeling was mutual, but time has its way of changing things. I’m still dreaming though. Instead of game-winners at MSG, a sold-out crowd singing along to my songs would be better.
Because I romanticized New York City as a kid, I feel like one when I visit. This time was no different. I felt things I forgot I once felt, which made them new to me again. Memory is a wonderful entity, especially when it provides pleasant surprises. There were many kids I came across during my time in New York. Kids with Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle backpacks, worn-out sneakers, and snotty-noses filled the streets. I felt connected to them. I felt a responsibility to change their lives, because I was once in their shoes; we all were. I want to be able to inspire them the way New York City did, and is still doing, for me. Besides love, inspiration is one of the most meaningful and valuable intangible gifts we can give to others in this lifetime. For now, they’re kids but the future is theirs, kind of like how yesterday’s future belongs to me and my generation. They’ll carry the torch someday, but I want to be able to make sure we pass it to them in the most righteous way possible.
Checking for children sleeping on buses is a phenomenal concept that should be adopted by public school systems everywhere, but if these kids are anything like the city, they’ll be busy chasing dreams in anticipation for the moment they’ll be able to introduce themselves to the city, then the world. Take it from someone who is still haunted by the magic of his first time there that being a kid dreaming in the city that never sleeps is something special. Contrary to the man on the subway, we're all stars in our own right and we deserve a chance to shine.
After all, it is the Big Apple we’re talking about.