Maybe it’s better not to leave.
Sure, Gotham handcuffs may have you down, and there are plenty of promising places to go, but if the experience of Christopher Solomon is any indication, it might be best to stay put than put up with the castigation. The burgeoning writer penned a heartfelt paean to his departure for the Times‘ City Room blog today. It was sappy, but it had its moments:
Everything about you was new then, New York, even your intrusions, and I was exhilarated and exhausted by you – just as I was by the red-haired girl I had chased East.
Within a year, the red-haired girl had said “I’m sorry” and left with another man. And you, fickle New York, where did you go after our nights lying awake together? Oh, I pursued you. We went to the opera, to plays, to gritty little restaurants in Queens. You – the city – were always my date. But you never belonged to me. Eventually you, too, moved on, taking your buzzing neon promise of fame to the next newcomer.
And now that I have finally found the willpower to leave, there are a few things I’ve long wanted to tell you.
New York, I won’t miss your fierce morning halitosis exhaled from your subway grates along Third Avenue.
Yet it gets worse. For all the comments (currently at 151) cheering on a decent writer, there were thrice as many slagging our newest expat:
- Another hipster bites the dust
- Thank you for your tourist dollars. Come again.I suppose this is how someone from Spokane might see New York. His description of Puertoriquenos and homosexuals seems like he sees them as bit players in his ever so important two years in NYC that I am sure he will discuss ad nauseum for the rest of his life. How culturally diverse. These hipster transplants try to romanticize various aspects of city life yet at the same time they are really patronizing. Give me a break with this self important drivel.
- There are no subway gratings on Third Avenue.
Good luck out there, stranger.