Stale

 When I walk home from work and make my way to the front steps of my building, every step is filled with anxiety. As soon as I get off 50th street on the 1 train, it's a hustle. I'm racing against everything and everyone. I'm racing the tourists, the yellow cab that sees me but presses on the gas anyway, the employees that see nothing but the train station in the corner, the pedicabs that deny that they're useless and the collective group of tourists and natives that are being drawn to the 9th avenue drinking scene.  I wish that Hell's Kitchen was literally Hell's Kitchen so that no one would ever visit, make an effort to find authentic (and good) Thai food elsewhere and bombard another bar strip so that 5pm on a Wednesday, I can walk home with more than a shoulder width of space and get to the front steps of my building without feeling like a serial killer. 

People often mention that I'm "lucky" for growing up in a vibrant neighborhood with little crime, access to just about every mode of NYC transportation and endless dining options. I will not lie, every time I leave the city I go through a bit of a subway withdrawal. My boyfriend lives in the butt crack of Forest Hills and I say that with every ounce of irritation and admiration conditioned  in my body for the the last 9 months. He has this wonderful spacious apartment on the top floor of his building with beautiful panoramic views of the expressway and park. In NYC standards, its pretty secluded and the area for the most part, is residential, peaceful and quiet. It's the main reason why I'm there 5-6 days of the week but if there's one thing that drives me insane is how far it is from the train station. The Q23 bus stop is a 5 minute walking distance and the bus ride itself to the train is about 10 minutes, giving you about  20 minutes to get from the house to the train (if the bus is running on schedule). The train ride itself isn't too bad being that you have two express trains (E and F) to choose from, getting you to the city under 20 minutes. Again I'm giving you the scenario of a good running schedule that runs NONE of the time. Sorry to go on a tangent here but if there is one thing I need to rant about, its the MTA system. So the E and F train run on separate lines in Manhattan, but after some point in Queens, they both run express under one track. On occasion they run smoothly but most of the time, especially during rush hour, the distance feels like inches as they crawl into the next train stop. On the weekend the trains run local for "track work" aka the two day party for track workers. Two weeks ago, I was stuck on the F train for an hour and a half. As usual  an "earlier incident" was causing major delays on the F line. I remember stepping onto the train around 5:50 and getting to Queens around 7:30. I think my hair was standing up. I had just got out of hot yoga and was so hungry and exhausted that I was ready to eat and flop-slap an MTA worker (I had no strength in my arms). I met up with my boyfriend, who was also on the same train and immediately cursed out his borough and the damn train system. "Dassit!" I yelled. "I'm fucking done with Queens and the trains. I'm moving out of the city". He then asked me if I wanted to get drinks...and then the rest was history.

I've lived my entire life in Hell's Kitchen and though it wasn't the greatest neighborhood growing up, I admit that living a few blocks from Times Square, the almighty heart of the city,  gave me somewhat  of a privileged childhood. I never had to worry about coming home late at night. Pharmacies were always open and because my neighbors were white, the area was always taken care of but I think I'm done.  I think it's time that  I move to somewhere less agitating; somewhere I can keep my blood pressure balanced.

Sometimes I dream of the breeze in my grandparents house in the 'Loma', swirving up through  the avocado trees  down to the plantation below. Breathing is so much different in the 'Loma'. When you inhale, you feel your lungs expanding, in full capacity with crisp, fresh air. Struggle-free. If you're somewhere in the city, try inhaling and immediately notice how stale the air is. In the city, I can't help but feel like I'm getting jipped when I breathe.