Cold New York, Warm New Yorkers

She woke just after 9AM as the sun attempted to stream into her studio apartment in the East Village. It was January, cold, and wet. The weather forecast had warned of the first snowstorm of the season this weekend and she eagerly anticipated its arrival.

She sat up in her bed in her decently sized studio apartment in her 5th floor walk up. She had finally found this apartment a little over six months after moving to the city with wide eyes and high hopes. After a couple of AirBnB stints and an apartment-sitting gig, she had applied for what she considered a classic New York City dwelling after viewing around 20 other apartments. As a pre-New York City resident, she would have considered having to view 20 apartments before finding ‘the one’ outrageous – as a current-New York City resident she understood the bragging rights she had been lucky enough to acquire.

Two large windows overlooked 4th Street and her fire escape served as a small balcony in the summertime. She swung her legs out of bed and as they landed on the classic square shaped wooden floorboards that adorned a lot of post-war apartments in NYC, she wrapped herself in her plush green robe purchased on sale at Macys as the season had ended last year. She made her way, by way of a few steps, to her small bathroom. Inside the space was a shower over a tub just large enough to lay down in, that she had adorned with a clear plastic curtain to allow all the light to pass through the room and give the appearance of more space, a basin with a cupboard large enough to hold the necessities of a bathroom, a mirrored medicine cabinet, and the classic over-the-toilet wire rack–priced at luxury-item prices thanks to the demand but limited supply of space in a NYC apartment–that held a lot of unnecessary items that most women probably don’t really need to use but feel they must.

The steam pipe in the corner hissed as it heated the room. She sat on her toilet with her knees not too far from the wall in front of her as she peed, and then washed her hands and face after. She dried them on a soft white towel while she looked out the small window that overlooks the back of buildings that are accessed one street north. Red bricks and small windows hide the goings-on inside the building that was the same 6 floors as hers. She could see directly into some apartments, although most of the windows were empty of its occupants. You quickly get used to not caring who you can see, or who can see you, when you live in such close proximity to one another. Privacy, and prudeness, are swept away in a New York minute–lest you spend your days concerned with other people’s opinions.

She put her towel back on its plastic 3M hook that passed for brass and stepped from the bathroom to the kitchen. It had one long bench, plus a butcher's block she had wheeled from an apartment three blocks away when she had first moved in. She can still remember the two trips up the stairs, carrying the heavy granite piece they had not warned her about when she purchased it on marketplace, to get it into her apartment. The kitchen had reasonable cupboard space that allowed her to store not just her food, but also some spare towels and bedsheets. The stuff New York City apartment dreams are made of. Extra cupboards.

She took a coffee cup from the cupboard above her kitchen sink, the one that she got to keep when she had bought a gluhwein in Vienna two Christmases ago. Without having to move, she opened the cupboard door to its right and took out the cocoa she had purchased at the holiday market in Bryant Park last month. She had braved the crowds to meet a friend after work, and put her patience to the test as she, and a herd of others, strolled through the small enclosed huts that held homewares, holiday gifts, chocolates and treats, soaps and creams, hosiery and accessories, to delicious foods of German bratwurst, crepes, donuts, dumplings, soups and chowders, to fried chicken and more.

Grabbing her 2% milk from her compact fridge that suited her perfectly, she didn’t fill it with much more than wine, a stick of butter, and some overpriced eggs, she took the lid from one of the saucepans that lived on top of the gas stove and poured in enough for her cup. As her milk boiled, she gazed out the window that had the same view as her bathroom and saw the shadow of someone in their bathroom, with their window slightly ajar. Although it was only 34 degrees out, depending on how old your building was, there was a good chance you never shut your windows from November through March to avoid sitting in your own private sauna. Another check box to check off to officially becoming a New Yorker was living through winter and waking in pools of sweat thanks to the uncontrollable heat in your apartment.

As her milk came to the boil, she finished making her cup of hot chocolate and made her way to the comfy couch she had purchased from Wayfair. She had spent longer researching sofas than she had finding her apartment, but every inch counts in NYC and not only did it have to be inviting enough for an all-day streaming session, it had to fit within her four small walls. She clicked on her smart TV, scrolled to the Netflix app and settled in for the next few hours. It was Saturday and she had no plans of doing much else.

By 1PM Mother Nature was giving it her best shot to deliver on the weather channel's prediction, but she must have been in a minimalist mood, as the low profile snow flakes didn’t stick and left only intimate puddles on the sidewalk. The credits of The Wire episode she was watching rolled and she clicked her television off before Netflix automatically started playing the next installment, keeping her locked in her zombie-like trance and hooked on its service.

Her tummy rumbled. Her cupboards offered little more than some dry pasta and frozen bread in the freezer. So she decided to brave the conditions outside to get some fresh air, some movement in her stiff legs, and something more appetizing than what she could produce at home. She quickly dressed in gray tights and a cozy blue Banana Republic turtleneck sweater. She threw on thick socks and her black, waterproof, wool-lined boots she had bought on a visit to Quebec City last winter, and took her hooded winter coat from the closest by the front door. The pièce de résistance in her apartment – it was large enough to fit many coats, several storage boxes, and at least two suitcases. A New York City apartment miracle.

Pulling a fuzzy white beanie with a pom pom on her head, and wrapping a bright multi-colored scarf that she had bought at the start of the season on a trip to Woodstock that everyone seemed to be wearing now, she took her wallet and keys from the small side table that often held stacks of junk mail and stepped through her door. She skipped down the stairs that she considered to be her get-out-of-going-to-the-gym-pass, exited her building, and took a left to walk two and half blocks to what she considered to be one of the best pizza shops in the city. A big claim, yes, but the Latino men who ran the small restaurant that permitted a few to sit at tables with blue and white checkered tablecloths adorned with chile flakes, oregano, and parmesan cheese shakers, truly made one of the tastiest New York slices you could hope for. Some of the best pizza she’d ever had in NYC was from the vendors selling $1 slices, or even better, 2 slices and a can of coke for $2.50. Her local pizzeria was selling slices for $2.50 each these days, but it was worth every penny.

As she walked through her neighborhood, small flakes of snow fell lightly upon her and then quickly dissipated to wet droplets. It was freezing. It felt like the clouds had parted and the sky was wide open, leaving them exposed to the vastness of what lay beyond them. She walked past Duane Reade at the end of her block, with no self-serving kiosks like many others had these days. While she didn’t always appreciate the line-up, she didn’t underestimate the impact this had on not only jobs, but the necessary interactions folks were made to have with their fellow human beings. Taking another left, she saw swathes of people inside the large laundromat that had recently increased its prices to $2.75 per load. The friendly Asian woman who knew everyone’s name was working and they smiled at one another through the window as she passed by. She strode past one of the many Irish pubs that welcomed first time visitors and long time friends, wondering which bartender was on shift today – she knew them all by name. It wasn’t by coincidence that a laundromat and pub were almost side by side. The cafe with the good coffee, the florist shop she never actually saw anyone in, the Japanese take out spot, and then her pizzeria.

She stepped inside and was warmed by not only the woodfired oven but the smiling faces of the staff who turned to look at her. “Hola, one cheese slice please.” She took a seat on one of the old wooden chairs while she waited for her slice to heat, and watched as more customers stepped inside. They were all greeted with the same genuine smiles. Some spoke Spanish, others broken English, and almost all commented on the weather today. She thought how funny it was that something as simple as the weather could bring strangers together. She looked around at those who were sharing this moment in time with her; people sprinkling chile flakes on their pizza, some folding their pizza in half to eat (the real way to eat pizza if you ask a real New Yorker), one man devouring a meatball sub because this pizzeria also sold sandwiches, and others patiently waiting for their white and red pizza boxes to fulfill their duties of holding single slices or whole pies to take away.

“Miss, one cheese slice,” she heard a man call that broke her curiosity of her fellow patrons. She walked to the glass counter and held her credit card against the handheld machine that had been placed in front of her, and thanked the kind clerk in Spanish. She turned her head to the rest of the crew, “Thank you, bye,” she said in English as she pushed open the door.

As she made her way back home carrying her box of one slice of pizza, and a bottle of coke she had allowed herself today, she felt less guilty knowing she was going to indulge in doing a whole lot of nothing on the couch for the rest of the day, as she had managed to leave the apartment today, even if it was only for a short period of time. She had resisted ordering in and she felt recharged that she had been smacked with some good old fashioned clean air (the air quality was good today and was better than yesterday, it said so on the weather app) and even moreso, good old fashioned face-to-face-conversation. A few words shared in a short space of time, or even a glance and a smile, can constitute a New York conversation as far as she was concerned.

She smiled at the process and effort it took to get back into her apartment in the wintertime as she unlocked the front door to her building, hiked up her stairs two at a time, pushed open her own front door, dropped her keys and wallet on the side table, leaned over to place the pizza and coke on the bench so as not to step too far into her apartment with NYC street-stained soles, removed her coat, hat, and scarf, unzipped her boots, took off her socks, and decided she’d put it all away later, as she settled onto the welcoming cushions positioned perfectly in front of the TV with her lunch.

While the weather was somewhat miserable, there was a stillness in the cold that created a calmness inside her. Her brief interactions with friendly faces in the neighborhood left her feeling good about the world for a moment. She considered this as she opened the box to reveal the huge cheese slice inside. Some days, her interactions with people left a lot to be desired, especially these days and the current political climate they were living in. However on days like today, she was reminded that we are all the same, in a good way. We are all going about our business, usually with the same wants, needs, and desires. And the small effort it takes to give a smile, recognize a face, or make a stranger feel seen is what matters. Community and coming together as a people is what makes us better. She picked up the remote, hit the red button to turn on her television, and scrolled to the Netflix app. She laughed at herself being so philosophical today. Funny what New York moments happen to you when you step out for a New York slice.

The end.