Okay, I wouldn’t use the word afraid because it’s the wrong word. I just don’t visit Brooklyn very often. I could say it’s a convenience thing because that’s what most Manhattan-dwelling women who never visit Brooklyn would say. But it’s only a short subway ride, or walk, away. So that’s a crapass excuse. It’s the idea of it. Brooklyn. It’s another borough, and what the hell would I do once I got there? That’s what I thought. It’s what I guess I still think. Unless I’m going to NorthSix for a concert or meeting a friend who lives there, why would I go? Because it’s something to do. A new restaurant to try. Yes, we know. We all fucking know. I told you; afraid wasn’t the right word.
It’s also only a subway ride to the zoo or Coney Island, but that’s a damn field trip, something you plan for. So when we who live and work in Manhattan pull the, "I don’t know. What do you want to do today?" Understand, it’s an activity, something that sounds new and like a field trip, to visit Brooklyn. I wouldn’t be bringing a bagged lunch.
When I was growing up on Long Island (another field trip), I’d listen to Z100 radio and hear people phone in from Brooklyn. "Brooklyn in da house," Elvis would say to his morning listeners. So I assumed it was full of dark-haired girls who wore their hair and jewelry too big. Name plate jewelry. I stopped believing it the first time I walked Smith Street and realized it felt like Boston’s Newbury Street. I try to visit somewhere new and not compare it to what I already know. But it’s hard not to draw comparisons, and to be completely honest, that was just a lie. I’ve never tried not to compare places. I never understood that thinking, the way people say you should visit somewhere, clean. Why? What’s wrong with comparing?
When I was dating like it was my job, I ruled men out if they didn’t live in Manhattan. It wasn’t snob-factor as much as knowing myself, knowing I’d want to date someone I could see every night, without having to worry about how he’d get home. Or if I went to his place, how the hell would I get home late at night? Yes, taxi. We know. We know. But still. Who’s finding a taxi late-night? It’s a pain in the ass dating someone who lives in another borough. Hoboken. It’s the same deal. It had nothing to do with the type of person and everything to do with the type of person I am. Lazy. Today, I wasn’t lazy.
Today I hooked it to Red Hook. See what I did>>