East Side

I've become a Neighborhood Snob. Last night I attended a reading in the East Village, at Mo Pitkin's House of Satisfaction on Avenue A. I was actually a little afraid for the first time in quite a while. It was dark and dingy, full of garages and warehouses with parking lots surrounding the area. Mo's was situated under neon lights in what looked to be the safest haven in that area. Thinking about how New York is laid out it amazes me that walking ten blocks could so completely change the neighborhood and atmosphere that much. I went from the cozy claustrophobia of the West Village to suspicious looking men on dark blocks with no children or dogs or old people (fixtures I am used to at this point in the Village).

I became more and more hesitant as I went along, trying to put on a brave front but inside being the shrinking violet. By the time I got to Mo's, I was practically jogging towards the entrance, freezing because on the way home from work it was quite warm and I had abandoned my fleece in exchange for a vest, which I regretted by the time I hit Fourth Avenue. But as I was wandering around I was walking faster and faster to avoid the strange men in black (like people here really wear any other color) and keep my torso semi-warm. The weather here continues to shock me- I'm really not used to sudden twenty degree drops.

But it made me curious about what had happened with the east side. A few years ago, I remember it being very trendy and clearly there were plenty of bars and venues to support said trendiness but there was not a whole lot of residential traffic. Then I remembered a recent article in Metro NY, a small newspaper I pick up in the mornings on the way to New York, that was all about how the bars in the East Village were upsetting the residents, that there were more fights and a lot more noise at four in the morning than there used to be. Their request was that a certain distance be foreseeable between bars and restaurants, that there had to be fifty yards. Less choice would equal less drunkeness, in the residents eyes. I don't blame them. I love that my own apartment is on the courtyard side, and I can crawl up stairs past the LIon's Den next door and by the time I reach my abode, can't hear anything. Except my guitar playing neighbor has now taken to playing music twenty four seven. He turned it on at some point last night and when I woke up this morning it was still playing. But what do you say when you live in a neighborhood that is both thriving and safe, where there are plenty of bars and yes, no parking, but its worth it in exchange for the comfort i get from passing the same people day in and day out on the street.