the city that finally sleeps by schuyler johnson
Greenwich Village
meatpacking district | midtown | gramercy park
I think I just passed a building I’ve driven by one hundred times before, but today is the first day I ever noticed the ivy going up it’s column and the slight blue tint in the navy lacquer door. My favorite restaurant in the Meatpacking district has flower lined boxes surrounding their outdoor eating area, bright and vibrant from the spring rain, but there are no mimosas clinking or eggs Benedict on ceramic plates.
Cars are parked, for days on rotation, no tickets clogging their wipers or police men on bikes writing new ones. Pigeons are dancing in the streets where traffic used to honk them off. Flowers are popping out of sidewalk cracks because there is finally no foot traffic to squish them.
I just gave a man $2, I wish I had more to give him; but I could see his eyes smiling and through his mask I heard “God bless you.”
There was no bus horn or pedestrian chatter to muffle his words, I swear they echoed through the hollowed streets of the city and reached Lady Liberty’s ears herself.
Have you ever noticed how many striped awnings there are in New York?
I thought I had, but today I count 23 in 5 blocks. Maybe it’s just the warm pre-rain spring breeze and no one else around that really made certain things like that stick out to me. It’s such a surreal feeling to see a place you love do a 180.
While I drove through the streets that usually are loud and bustling, full of people I’ll never know and probably never see again, it was a sobering moment to really take it all in and think “this is the city that never sleeps.” And here it is: tired. Resting. Gorgeous in its loneliness, but so empty. Hunkering down and slowing down. It was heartbreaking and beautiful all in one.
I long for the days I am flipped off by an angry cab driver. For the moment I make eye contact with a stranger on the train after a stressful day and we softly smile at each other as if to remind one another that we are human, and at the end of the day we are in this together.
I pray for the day to come soon where we healthily and happily flood the streets of New York City or our hometowns and we dance. And laugh. And hug. And emphasize a strong, firm handshake.
Never will I take for granted another night out, another smile from a stranger at the deli, another accidental shove on the subway.
May we all be together soon again, and never forget to enjoy the company of those we love, and never take for granted a “nice to meet you” or “see you soon!”
Stay safe everyone. All my love, Schuyler
Schuyler Johnson is a 24 year old interior decorator who grew up and is currently living in the outer suburbs of New York City. A lover of flowers, meeting new people, sunshine, and “decorating her life”, here is her inner monologue as she drove through the empty city streets of Manhattan with her dad. Schuyler and her father are self-proclaimed “adventure buddies” and have been finding different activities to shake up their daily routine during quarantine, but also stay safely distances from others. They drove their convertible into the city with the top down and felt the spring air in their faces and took a look at what happens when “the city that never sleeps” takes a rest.
She also happens to be Brooke’s cousin and the two women have been creating and collaborating together since they were little girls.