It’s so hard to explain my absolute love of New York City in the summer. Waking up to an insomniac city on a sticky June morning is perfection. This city has so much energy especially in the summer. People are everywhere. Birds are chirping. Aside from the garbage melting, my favorite place to be from May to October is right here at home in New York City.
It's the windy nights on a makeshift blanket lying on the grass in Central Park with freshly cut grass sticking you in your back. It's the sound of street ball across from Boys and Girls High School on a Saturday morning in Bed Stuy. It's the taste of the barbecue wings at Smoke Joint and the relief of the fan as it blows your afro all over the place. It's the excitement of Ample Hills Creamery's new ice cream flavor of the day. It's those nights in Harlem. It's the whistles you get walking down 125th and Lenox after a brunch gathering with your girls at Corner Social. It's the smell of cheap perfume, the amusing stares at shea butter, the fresh kicks, the slicked back edges of a ponytail held tight. It's the longevity of the day. It's the anticipation of the next morning. It's the breeze from the cab window that's whipping down 7th Avenue, toes curled up, finally out of those annoying heels. It's all the after work, rooftop parties with the amazing views. It's the family memories running up and down the hills at Prospect Park. It's the spontaneous walks on your tree lined block. The freshly squeezed lemonade, the chocolate gelato, the falafels from the midtown stands, the early morning pedicures, the deep tissue massages, and hitting the sales rack with your tourist friends. All the events, the fundraisers, the art showings, the networking events, the seminars, the Angela Davis sessions at NYU, the exhibits at the MoMA, the extended hours at the Studio Museum of Harlem, the fresh air on 9th Avenue when you leave Escuelita after Vogue Night. It's the midnight pizza. It's the early morning bagels. It's Gregory's coffee. It's the amazing view from DUMBO at Pier 6, it's the movies in the park, it's the corn from Havana Outpost. It's Afro Punk Fest. It's all the bikers, all the parades, and the flea markets. It's the Red Hook lobster rolls. It's the coleslaw from Might Quinns. It's the bronzed skin and shrinking body. It's the sound of silence right before the Barclay's Center doors open. It's the Sunday ride on the Q train across the bridge with Lady Liberty looking all free and shit. It's the occasional weekend drive to the beach and all the music you need to get you through the beach traffic.
New York is everything an urban city summer should be. It's sleepless and blissful. It's perfect.
It's when the city comes alive. When it moves you. It's when you start realizing why you came and so glad you stayed. It makes you rethink that hard winter and all those times your promised yourself that you'd move because the rent's too damn high and Los Angeles has better weather. And then you realize that there is nothing comparable to New York City and nothing that can touch it as you lay on a roof top of a house party, drunk from summer lust.