Between Two Boroughs: Exploring New York and it's Juxtapositions

“Why you just standing there? MOVE!”

“Thanks, asshole”, I thought in my head - I wasn’t brave enough to yell at a guy who looked like a hairy Popeye.

We stood on the corner for about 30 seconds before we decided to go right, about to explore our new surroundings in Brooklyn. We walked for almost a half hour before we realized we had no idea where we were going, but we didn’t mind that either.

As time went on, we started to notice the appearance of our neighborhood change. The area was a wash of sepia tones: Old, brown buildings with matted grass to match. It was also relatively quiet, as far as traffic was concerned; a bit uncharacteristic from what network television had me believe all these years. There were kids playing outside, about six of seven years old, laughing and running around in the summer heat. Couldn’t help but wonder why they weren’t in school at 10 am on a weekday. We realized not too long after that we were in one of the most notorious neighborhoods in Brooklyn, the Marcy Projects, and a lot of the faces looked like ours: young and black.

There was a subway up ahead. We crossed the bridge in a matter of minutes and eventually ended up in Manhattan.

If I was wondering where those New York honks were, I found them. This borough was loud, colourful, and shiny. Times Square was a sensory overload of logos and ads, while hustlers in knockoff costumes tried to get their picture taken with me. Last I remembered, Elmo didn’t sound like Archie Bunker.

Central Park had pockets of blissfully quiet green space, while Strawberry Fields was packed with tourists crowding around the John Lennon memorial, taking selfies to make their friends back home jealous. It seemed like we were 100 miles away from where we just were.

Then I remember seeing these two little kids; blonde, clean cut. Siblings I think - about the same age as the children I saw earlier in Brooklyn. They were being escorted out of a black town car into a penthouse apartment; their little backpacks being carried by a helper behind them. It seemed like we were 100 miles away from where we just were.

I remember both sets of kids to this day. I remember both looking happy. Smiling and giggling, seemingly content with their surroundings; not knowing what life was like on the other side of the bridge.