Not Cooked, Burnt to a Crisp
Election Day, $15 coffee culture, and the New York City marathon.
I had an incredibly New York City morning last weekend. And by “incredibly New York City” I mean hostile and inconvenient.
I met my boyfriend downtown after his run club, which was a special event put on by a Cool Running Brand pop-up (+1 NYC point); then we walked over to the grab-and-go bagel shop that had no indoor or outdoor seating in the sun (it was freezing outside) (+1) and they were doing a collab bagel flavor with another Cool Running Brand (+1); we took said bagels to Elizabeth Street Garden for free seats, but the space wasn’t open yet and we were met with a discouraging padlock (+1); so we walked down the block and found two outdoor chairs in the sun outside a restaurant that wasn’t open yet either, figuring they wouldn’t mind, but we were scolded mid-bagel and told to leave (+1); not letting a little detour kill the vibe, we migrated down another block and finished our bagels standing up next to a church where an older woman walking by with her dog said “You guys got the right idea!” (+1); in dire need of a drink of water (for me) and a restroom (for him), we crossed the street to a cafe and asked if we could sit in for a coffee, to which they said no, seats are only given to customers who order food (+1); we left the cafe with our heads held low and walked to a coffee shop we knew would have seats, water, restrooms, and a decent latte, only to find it had a 20-person line (+1); so we pivoted, yet again, to a place nearby I heard had good matcha, where we finally found an indoor seat, and as the barista flipped around that stupid little iPad, the total for two drinks plus tip rang up as $29.84 (+1000).
We could really only laugh at how ridiculous our morning misfortune had been — and to be fair it was a really delicious cup of matcha. I walked away thinking about how that morning is exactly the reason so many people don’t want to live in New York City. It’s crowded, it’s dirty, the pop-up/collab/absurd-queue-culture is out of hand, dining establishments refuse to serve you in a normal way, and when you’re finally allowed to hand your money over to someone it costs twice as much as you expected.
Sometimes I think to myself — in the wake of 4+ hour lines for beauty pop-ups and TikToks of 20-somethings that say they wouldn’t dare travel above 14th Street — damn this place is so cooked. I wonder how we’re possibly going to un-cook ourselves.
On Sunday morning, fewer than 24 hours after the bagel-bathroom-matcha debacle, I took to the streets of Manhattan to support my boyfriend as he ran the New York City marathon. I joined 2 million spectators to cheer on more than 55,000 people who were accomplishing lifelong dreams. With tears in my eyes, I watched people I don’t know and will never see again hug and kiss their loved ones in a symphony of cowbells, joyous screams, and the faint croon of Frank Sinatra in the distance.
There’s almost nothing that I can say about New York that hasn’t been said by someone more qualified to say it (I’m 25, a white transplant, have only lived here for three years, etc. — I know my place). But what I think is a universal experience for those of us lucky enough to live in this mess of concrete, is that just when you think the city is so gone, it swings right around, and New York is suddenly so back.
Everything above this sentence, I wrote before Wednesday morning. It’s almost ominous to read it back now, a palpable feeling of hope in my voice. I must have subconsciously let that hope slip between the letters and punctuation — I didn’t realize it was there at the time, but in hindsight it’s like a bright red ink over my words that I can’t unsee.
Hope for what? I don’t know. A miracle that wasn’t on the ballot, I suppose. A drop of delusion polluted the entire lake.
I don’t know how I planned to finish this a few days ago. I was exploring what I loved about this city, what frustrated me about this city, why other people are so quick to tell me they could never live in this city. I wanted to laugh about how insane this city can drive you sometimes, and how the very next day it sucks you right back in. I was enjoying the perspective of seeing both sides of where the pendulum swings.
There’s nothing I can say about New York that hasn’t been said before, and there’s nothing I can say right now about this country that hasn’t been more eloquently explained a thousand times. After being in awe at strangers taking 26.2 miles worth of steps forward, it feels like the world is taking an alarming number of catastrophic steps backward.
“We’re so cooked”, I thought, while ordering a $15 matcha, and “we’re so back”, I thought, reading silly marathon signs, imagining grown adults using glitter for the first time in years. Alas, the pendulum has swung again. I am feeling very, very cooked at the moment. Burnt to a fucking crisp.
I can’t say anything new. Mutual aid and community work are crucial. This is a wakeup call to some, and a reminder of what has long been apparent to others. What I can say is this: That’s the very thing about a pendulum — it always swings back.
I relate so hard - I had by all metrics an incredible NYC weekend (gorgeous weather, fun a different neighborhood & good food with friends, cheering on the marathon), and couldn’t help but think about the contrast between the collective runners high and the very bad vibes of the impending election. But even though Wednesday hit like a ton of bricks, that glimpse of city, neighbor, and friend camaraderie is motivating every step I take forward. Thanks for sharing this, sending ❤️ from a fellow NYC friend!
That was so well-written and I felt your love for the city. 💕
We just keep going. I’m Canadian and we are feeling for you. 💜