When I announced that I was moving, the guy at my local deli leaned over his glass case and yelled, “You’ll never leave New York.”
Truth is, he might be right. Every time I fly into this city, no matter how glamorous or exotic the previous destination, my mind always sighs thank god I’m back in New York.
The truth stings because NYC isn’t always kind to me. It’s dirty. There’s always something to complain about: the weather, subway, Mayor Deblasio, cops, parking, traffic, rent, taxes, dating. At any moment, I can join in and bitch with the best because that’s what it means to be a New Yorker.
But as I peer into my future, what I see after a lifetime steeped in piss and prosecco scares me.
An old lady once told me to go, “fuck myself” at the Union Square Trader Joe’s. Will I too become so scrappy that I don’t recognize help selecting the right line when I see it?
I’m afraid I will.
Respect to all those gritty New York seniors, but I want to review some things before I join your steel-toed ranks.
I owe it to myself, and all middle-aged city dwellers, to get out and explore what the rest of the country – rest of the world – has to offer. For the next year I will do just that.
I’ve quit my job. Deuces.
My passport’s current.
And I’ve got plane fare in the bank.
With a New Yorker’s sensibility, I’ll scrutinize the cities of the world as possible replacements for my beloved Big Apple.
Before crossing borders, let’s keep it domestic and answer Millennial/GenX question du jour:
Should I Migrate to Denver Like Everyone Else?