The first time I set foot in New York City, I had known that it is the place for me. I recall my eyes widening as my surrounding amenities were radiating with ecstasy. I was ready to start my vigorous life and greeted the city lifestyle with open hands. I began seeing the ball drop in front of me on New Years rather than counting down with the TV. I began choosing fast food over home cooked meals. I recall earning an internship at the New York Times a month after arriving to the Big Apple. Doors of opportunity opened and it seemed impossible that anyone wouldn’t appreciate the city.  Gradually, I left my past self and traditions in Kansas as the city transformed me into a New Yorker more and more every day.
My first day at my internship started when the alarm on my iPhone went off at 5:00am. I rushed to look presentable with my dress shirt and tie while slipping on my over the shoulder bag holding documents and school books. The early cold wind blew across Brooklyn as I rushed to catch the subway. I finally reached Penn Station in midtown at 6:00am with only 15 minutes to buy coffee for my boss and myself. I stood in a Starbucks line with a myriad amount of people all doing the same task, as I was to keep our positions. I placed the overpriced coffee in a tray and realized that I only had seven minutes remaining to get to work. I rushed down the streets, reading the street signs while shoving my way past tourists, earning mutters of annoyance from passerby.
The crisp air caused my hands to go numb, but relief washed over me as I finally made it onto 8th Ave.
The warm heated lobby of the New York Times Building embraced all with warm air and the familiar scent of new furniture. I greeted the secretary with a smile and “hello” as I clicked the elevator button to take me to the 41st floor. I then walked down the black never-ending hallway covered in thousand-dollar artwork. I finally reached my boss’s office to place the coffee on his desk. He looked up at me and cleared his throat.
“You my friend are late! Keep this up and I’ll have to find a replacement. Interns these days are just such a hassle” he spoke firmly. This strict lifestyle, which focused on punctuality, was pretty typical for someone who worked in the city. It’s almost as if one thing is contingent upon another thing which is contingent upon another where one mistake can disassemble this entire chain. The reality is everyone in NYC is so independent to an extent where workspace is strictly enforced.
I gave a quick apology then left to my cubicle to organize documents as part of this internship. The day went by in a tedious manner as I reread articles and adjusted any mistakes. Finally, at eight o'clock I took a subway to NYU where I was finishing the necessary writing classes needed to graduate with the Class of 2008. I studied my class notes on the subway there while chewing on a bagel like a stereotypical New Yorker. This was my daily life in the city and it was and still is always an adventure. There will always be new obstacles along the way and tasks to accomplish and bills to pay. The city had engulfed me into its beautiful charm and ebullience, which is why I was enthralled to welcome my grandparents into the City that weekend. The following day was an off day so I took the opportunity to show them around the city to view the New York lifestyle. I arrived later than anticipated to their hotel, thinking they would be dressed and ready to view the city.
“Jackson! Come in, come in, you’ve grown so much!” my grandfather exclaimed. “You came earlier than I expected, your grandma is still sleeping”
I looked down at my watch to see that it was already 12:00 am and usually by now I would have been done with breakfast and on with my day. I greeted him warmly and we began to chat until they were both ready to leave for breakfast.
“So, How have you been liking the city so far?” I began the conversation.
“This city is too loud for anyone to sleep. The streets are so noisy with cars and people screaming such foul language,” she complained over breakfast. We had gone to a small café in midtown and I could already tell that the city was not her cup of tea.
“Well it is the city that never sleeps,” I grinned. “But I’m sure you’ll love it by the end of today/”
“I sure hope so,” she replied.
“Rockefeller is only a few blocks away--”
“Oh no I can’t walk for long or my legs will hurt.”
“We can take a taxi,” I suggested, but she was clearly unsatisfied. I stuck my hand out to get the attention of a cab, which surprised my grandparents. I then recalled that the concept of riding cabs was foreign in Kansas
“Take us to the boardwalk,” I told the driver.
“Do the cars always move this slow?” my grandfather asked. “No wonder everybody walks. This city is only fit for youngsters like you Jackson”. We continued chatting as the cab sped across the boardwalk giving us a mesmerizing view of the Hudson River.
Eventually, we got far enough on the boardwalk as I pointed to the statue of liberty standing high in view from the cab. My grandparents/ eyes widened.
“Its nicer in person than in the picture,” my grandpa spoke amazed, which made me grin feeling complacent. I then turned to my grandmother to see her reaction.
“Oh my, looks what those girls are wearing,” she spoke, completely ignoring the statue that I pointed to. “Their dress is too short to be worn out in public. They should be ashamed” she repudiated and crossed her arms. I turned to see what she was raging about and saw a few teenagers casually eating ice cream on the boardwalk. This was common in the city that it took me a few minutes to register the issue my grandmother was referring to.
I resigned in my seat knowing that she would further repudiate against the modernized lifestyle anywhere else we’d go. If only she would understand that the city is no place of traditional values rather a center of ideas and concepts to bloom. People do as they wish and everyone makes their own decisions on their own. The city is a place of excitement and adventure but best of all, independence. Young graduates are free to do what they want and create their own paths and destinies. They paint a life of their own with color pallets and transform their dreams into reality.
        From my experience with my grandparents I have concluded that there is no such things as right or wrong perspective. Age difference separates traditional and modern values. The traditional values of people become obsolete as new generations develop the perspective of focusing on the future rather than the past. Even in the same environment, age will create separation between two different individuals/ perspectives. The reality is we will only further develop and eventually our modern world that we live in will become the next generation's definition of obsolete.
Article written by: Jackson Forte from the New York Times
Date published: May 23,2016
New York Times Building,
620 8th Ave
New York, NY 10018
United States