Is it time to leave New York? It seems like many people are asking this very question. Mouthing it into a clear mirror, writing it onto a foggy mirror, imagining the possibilities even when a mirror isn’t nearby. Maybe their bathroom lacks one. Some people don’t want a daily reminder of the lines in their face that mark the cruel passage of time. I have to tell you, the thought hasn’t yet crossed my mind. This exercise doesn’t count. I’m merely voicing what’s already out there in the water (that good, New York City water, fresh from the Catskills, crisp and clear blue).
There are plenty of other places a person can choose to live. You don’t have to leave the Empire State entirely. I’ve heard good things about Syracuse, Buffalo and Rochester. The trouble with talk of Big Apple abandonment is who never gets queried. The rats, for one. This is their adopted homeland. They are the hairy heartbeat of the city, dancing, prancing and refinancing throughout the five boroughs. Has anyone even thought to ask them if they’re considering packing up and heading down to Philly, Boston or down south, Florida way?
In a world that’s constantly talking about living beyond one’s means and treating the planet well, who better than a rat to show us how? Rats are environmentalists - real ones. Not the bumper sticker bros with their mantras and homilies, placards and pamphlets. These are folks who put their money, or in this case, recycling, where their mouth is. They live by the code, “waste not, want not.” They eat garbage, okay? Rats are ignored, frightening us into not wearing open-toed shoes on the subway. Causing us to draw some weird, artificial distinction between the terror of a rat and the cuteness of a squirrel. But as Sir Paul might say, they’re here, there and everywhere. Working behind the scenes at a restaurant. Checking out your car under the hood. Teaching environmental law at the John Jay College of Criminal Justice.
They’ve gone through major distress before. Cheese shortages, the rise and fall of the Ninja Turtles, uninvited tunnel explorers. But in the long, winding think-pieces and Medium meditations, I’ve not seen one address the rat in the room. They miss the rodential, though nominally nodding to the pestilential. New York is more than food carts and neon lights, much more than axe-throwing juice bars and glass blowing yoga studios. Yes, the city is crowded. But if it weren’t so crowded I’d forget that sardines were actually a fine source of nutrition, rich in protein and Omega-3 body positive acids. With the area’s density, sardines will always remain top of mind.
New York is the rats, the pigeons, and the crazy people. The last group are often referred to as “The Pajama Brigade.” People who create the fashion and cultural trends that are adopted by the glitterati years after the fact. They dress how they want, act how they like and move through the metropolis utterly unaffected by their environment. They don’t care what’s happening in the street or the sky. They live. We could all use a few pages from their weathered book.
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