Fall in NYC
New York, New York,
After surfing Hawaiian reef breaks for a week, where life slows to a languid crawl, I plunged into the sheer intensity of life in Manhattan. Walking along NYC avenues is an exercise in self control. The streets are busy and unforgiving, a game of wits between the crowd and the cars. Jaywalking is a rite of passage.
It’s like a shot of espresso. The energy is so palpable that your pace quickens as you try harder to be alive, to get somewhere, to accelerate. I have a feeling that the same atmosphere backfires when you walk outside tired, sick or hungover. Like Vegas after a week long bender.
The city swings between heaven and hell, depending on the weather. Where SF is annoyingly indecisive, almost passive aggressive, NYC is unapologetic in its seasons.
The city is a people watching mecca when the sun is shinning (most of the times I’ve visited), but it turns into a complete chaos with rain or snow. Uber prices spike to $80 for a few blocks and someone will probably punch you in the face to get the one yellow cab available on the sidewalk.
I flew in for an interview. There is a startup scene hidden somewhere inside those endless high rises. The interview went well and the idea of heading to New York for a couple of years seemed very real all of a sudden.
I always admired the idea of living in a multicultural city with a heavy side of teach as opposed to the inverse that permeates every block in San Francisco. A year later, NYC would have its biggest quarter of VC spending in history, so prospect seems more attractive than ever.
As it often happens during these moments of transition, my brother called me and wanted to discuss a new startup idea. We landed on bots. Specifically automating things like ordering pizza and doing it through a messaging ecosystem like FB messenger.
The job opportunity didn’t quite pan out (they would later churn through a bunch of VPs), but I did spent the weekend with some long lost girlfriends staying up all night for 4 days straight, discussing each other’s sex lives and pretending like we were 24 again.
By the time I flew out, I felt like I’ve been punched repeatedly in the face and stomach, while the my friends told me that I wasn’t allowed to visit for another year. I’m not sure that I have enough self control to live in NYC permanently, but I have no doubt I will spend a few years there in some not too distant future.
