Just to clarify: the reason that the only reflective, summing-up post I've written was a snarky list of things I won't miss is definitely not because there aren't things I will miss. Quite the contrary! There are SO many things I'll miss that I can't even begin to confine them to a bulleted list (though, again, that's not for lack of trying). As the blog attests, I have come full circle in my attitude towards New York: from unabashed enthusiasm, to frustrated disdain, to a more informed appreciation. I am excited for the opportunity to try out living in New England...but I can't help but hope that I'll wind up back in Manhattan someday. Not permanently, but maybe for a few years...
So! Things I
will miss! The list is endless, really: acquiring crazy seafarer stories, my fabulous coworkers and roommates, the incredible people at St. Luke's, all the amazing cultural opportunities, etc, etc, etc. But one of the things I'll miss the most is also one of the most surprising (though you, my esteemed readers, may have guessed it): the subway. I have spent a minimum of two hours underground every day for the past year. I have had no shortage of horror stories: trains breaking down, accidentally going to Brooklyn, getting drenched in chocolate milk...after all I've been through, I consider myself thoroughly entitled to hate the entire New York City transit system. But I don't. I don't hate it in the least.
I feel like every college grad can point back to The Class That Changed Their Life. It's taken me a while to recognize that mine is not, as it perhaps should have been, the
Introduction to the Gospels course that I took my sophomore year, but in fact
L'Introduction a l'Anthropologie Urbaine, the urban anthro course that I randomly selected from the incomprehensible course list during my semester in Aix. Thanks to Mme. Abigail Peses (who spoke with such a thick Marseille accent that it's a miracle I learned anything at all), I was introduced to the fascinating world of
microsociology - in particular the study of interpersonal interactions in public space. All of a sudden, I had an analytical framework for the largely unspoken rules that govern our public behavior. It is not an exaggeration to say that I have not been the same since.
I have often said that the subway is the perfect microcosm of New York society. It has, thus, proven to be the ideal arena for microsociological analysis. If an empty seat opens up on a crowded train, what factors determine who gets it? How do you react to the person who holds up an entire train by getting their bag stuck in the door? When the time comes to encourage people to move into the center of the car, do you make a verbal announcement, or do you just push? How does the size of a person's 'bubble' change as a train gets fuller? When is it acceptable to strike up a conversation with the person sitting next to you? Is it socially permissible to switch seats if your neighbor is particularly smelly? What can you reasonably eat on the train without attracting dirty looks? As anyone who has ever taken the train with me knows, I am fascinated by these kinds of questions to the point of obsession.
This fond discourse on the merits of the subway system is not to say that there haven't been days when I've longed for the ability to teleport from Harlem to Newark and back. There have. But, at the same time, I know that a huge part of my understanding of and appreciation for this city has come from the time I've spent zooming through underground tunnels, pondering the intricacies and idiosyncracies of New Yorkers' behavior. If I ever live in New York again, I will fervently hope for a shorter commute. But don't be surprised if I take up riding the subway for fun - or if my first book is an exploration of subway sociology :)
