NYC Staycation Road Trip

Dear New York City,
I know I’d sooner drive hundreds of miles to a remote vegan option over state lines than hit your streets sometimes. The unfortunate truth is: you’re not who you used to be to me: escape, inspiration, excitement. Now, you are diluted, castrated even. I resent you a little… but because I held you in such a high regard. Because I loved you.

Going to the East Village, resentment is at its highest. All the landmarks of my youth have gone away, replaced by homogeneous offerings disguised as unique: spiritless offerings for those that don’t know better, those who don’t know at all, and, worse, don’t know that they don’t know. The New New York.

But from afar, say from a bridge or a ferry, I see you in a different way. I step away from your corners where I dwelled to see you wholly. Your empire of steel. Your manmade majesty.

And I feel special again by you. Feel proud to be by your side, remembering our adventures together. And what you endured.

On a bright blue summer day, I love you again. In that way that a bright blue summer day can make you love most things. Variably, like a weather pattern.

Then we ate at Korilla, the Korean fusion food truck’s brick and mortar location in the East Village with the clearly labeled vegan options. [These are the new success stories of New York. No chain store backed by corporate headquarters in Colorado shelling out the exorbitant commercial rent for the lucrative sales potential in the NYC market. Homegrown.] If you’re ever craving a bowl (or burrito) of small piles of super delicious veggies and sauces—different textures, temperatures, tastes—stop in Korilla. Besides this, their staff knows where the fish sauce is even if you haven’t studied the menu as well as you should. I went for the purple rice bowl with its blend of forbidden rice, barley, brown and short grain sushi rice along with baked tofu, sweets n’ beets (sweet potato and the beloved beet), sweet corn & snap (peas), pico de gallo, and their Korean hot sauce.

Next, settling into the new Zamperla-ized (masters in amusement park gentrification) Coney Island for drinks, friends, and fireworks. We sat rooftop at Tom’s Coney Island, where the old boardwalk dive Cha Cha’s used to be. I was pleased to see you can fancy up Coney Island’s offerings but you cannot break her weirdo spirit. Coney Island is the collective energy of her inhabitants, pure Brooklyn. And they’re going to beat out your plans for wholesome family entertainment. Thankfully. Keep Coney Weird!

Some highlights from the lights show, which really reels ‘em in.

Thank you, New York.