Ebullience

I am not a Knicks fan, but only because I don’t follow basketball. If I did, I probably would be a Nets fan, but that is because I spent my formative adult years in Brooklyn.

And I have nothing to say about the Knicks at all. I have everything to say about what the city is like at this exact moment in time.

I went into Manhattan yesterday afternoon. I popped out of the subway into Times Square – not voluntarily. I had a place to be. But, as hot as it was, I was entranced. Times Square was full of jerseys. Knicks jerseys, to be sure. But Brazil jerseys, Morocco jerseys – and let me tell you, the Moroccans were wearing CAPES. The World Cup coinciding with the Knicks at the NBA playoffs – again, I am not a sports person. Add to all of this were the people pre-gaming the Puerto Rico Day Parade.

But the joy was unmissable. Contagious as all hell. Everyone was up. The energy was exhilarating.

It was a sunny day – hot, to be sure, but not that humid, and air quality wasn’t a concern. Not a cloud at all in the sky. I normally shy away from Times Square – just hurry the fuck out of there to get where I’m going, because the tourists from other parts of the country are really, honestly, no fun to be around.

These tourists, on the other hand, were full of hope and joy. They weren’t arrogant. They didn’t expect everyone to accommodate their incredulity and, quite frankly, fear. Fear of other cultures, fear of not knowing – look, I’ve traveled a lot. I’ve had the fear of not knowing. But it’s not the same as fearing the people who live in the city you’re visiting. As someone who lives here, as someone who has traveled the world and asked people questions (in some questions being met with help, in other cases hostility because American), you know the difference.

I was in the city to see Proof. It was devastating, amazing, full of incredible acting by Ayo Edibiri, Don Cheadle, Kara Young, and Jin Ha. I mean, everybody was phenomenal. It had been my birthday – I treated myself to a front-row seat. Front and center. I could reach out and touch the stage. It was amazing. As the cast did their final bows, most of them had tears in their eyes. Could have been the massive standing ovation, could have been decompression from the intensity of the play itself and what that intensity demanded of the actors.

When I came out of the theater, the Brazil and Morocco fans had moved on to the MetLife Stadium. Still, I fled downtown, to Fraunces Tavern, the oldest restaurant in the city, and near the Staten Island Ferry. As I ate fish and chips I wanted to enjoy more than I did, I was across from a couple who’d been to a Jazz Age party – she was in full flapper, with the long pearls and the cloche hat; he was in a linen suit.

As I came home on the ferry, people were glued to their phones. As I fell asleep last night, drivers were honking and people were cheering in the streets outside.

And maybe it’s confirmation bias, but it made me glad to live here. The greatest city in the US. Where everything converges, and we all learn from one another, even if it’s in a glance as we take in someone’s outfit, or eat a food someone has introduced us to (Fraunces Tavern does not qualify, sorry, but all the interesting restaurants were taken), or listen to music coming out of a cell phone across the aisle of the Staten Island Ferry.

More. More of this. More cross-cultural pollination. More NYC exhilaration and joy and ebulliance. More gathering in of people from all over the world, learning, eating, listening. Just more.