Maeve Higgins: You need guts to live in a city like New York

The writer Fran Lebowitz is considered a living embodiment of a certain vision of this city: ‘If I complain about the things I complain about, will they change? Not so far.’

LAST night on the subway, the F and J trains were delayed and I counted six police officers languishing around the platforms. These two facts are surely related, demonstrating as they do the priorities of the powers that be: The subway system is under-resourced and over-policed.

Why not spend the money on improving the ancient and busted up infrastructure instead of on overtime pay for cops? Mayor Eric Adams is a former transit cop himself, so there’s little hope he will ever see sense. It’s frustrating, but to quote Fran Lebowitz, the writer who is also a living embodiment of a certain vision of this city: “If I complain about the things I complain about, will they change? Not so far.” 

I actually saw Lebowitz on the train last night; she alighted at 23rd St to a chorus of delighted goodbyes from a group of Gen Z kids who had recognised her too.

I watched her go, and as she loped up the platform, trenchcoat swinging, I thought about something she said in the Martin Scorsese documentary, Pretend It’s A City: “When people say, ‘Why do you live in New York?’ you really can’t answer them, except you know that you have contempt for people who don’t have the guts to do it.”

I tried to work out if I have a more satisfactory answer to the question of why I live here. Do I agree that it takes guts to live here? And why would we choose to live somewhere it takes guts to live in, when life is already tough enough? 

President Joe Biden with New York governor Kathy Hochul at Sarah Lawrence College in Yonkers, New York. Picture: AP Photo/Patrick Semansky

I counted my blessings; at least New York City had overwhelmingly voted for Kathy Hochul, a Democratic governor. Her opponent, the Republican candidate Lee Zeldin, has close ties to Donald Trump and opposes many reproductive rights for women. He also voted against certifying the 2020 presidential election. So, that’s a relief.

But that was the bigger picture. Now, standing on the packed and weirdly warm train as we shuddered along, I assessed the day I just had. Obviously, the day still hadn’t ended even though it was 11.35pm on a Tuesday, because it was taking so long to get home. That’s not a complaint. Late nights are typical for me, and I suspect for a lot of New Yorkers because there is always something to do. Although, when I thought about it, my day should have been a lot less hectic, because I only had two things scheduled apart from work: Lunch with a friend and an evening class.

I recounted my day. I did chores in the morning as I listened to WNYC, the city’s public radio station. My presenter’s name is Brian Lehrer and, like Lebowitz, he’s a city institution. His calm and humane voice has been on the air taking calls from every borough on every subject since 1989. When I first moved here, almost a decade ago, it was his show that served as an introduction to the city, and since then I’ve been lucky to be a guest on it a few times. So yes, I think the day started well, with familiar company and a sense of connection to the place I live in.

Then I had lunch with my friend at her house. She ordered us doubles from a Jamaican restaurant nearby. Doubles are sandwiches that originated as street food in Trinidad and Tobago. They are made from curried chickpeas packed between two pieces of fried flat bread. The bread is sweet, the curry is sprinkled with tamarind and coriander sauces, and there’s cucumber in there too. They were so tasty!

The day took a turn for the worse as I walked back to the subway and a man came running towards me. He was distressed, crying out as he raced by. He was being chased by a wild-eyed man who had one hand in his jacket pocket clutching something I could not quite see. I think it was a gun. That was the shape of it, but maybe it was a knife. 

The first man ran into a T-shirt shop and the second man followed him. There was more screaming but no shots. Other passersby froze for a second, then snapped out of it and kept moving. So did I. I got to the subway station and called my friend to warn her not to leave her house. I didn’t call the police because they definitely do have guns, along with a well-documented propensity to injure and kill civilians.

I got on the train and went to a class I’m taking at the City University of New York (CUNY). CUNY is a public university, a massive institution with a number of campuses serving almost 250,000 students across the city. Most universities charge exorbitant prices, but CUNY is affordable. It was founded 175 years ago with the mission of democratising education. Since then, particularly since the brutal austerity politics of the 1970s, CUNY’s budget and impact has been cut massively. But it’s still an extraordinary resource for those of us who want to learn but are not rich and are not willing to wade into debt.

The place feels inclusive and important, and I appreciate it a lot. Like the subway, I wonder how long it can function while it’s being squeezed so hard.

It was difficult to focus in class because I kept recalling the screams of fear from the poor man who was being chased. Eventually, I felt a little calmer and became engrossed in what my criminology professor was saying about how female terrorists are represented in the media.

Apparently, they’re seen as outliers, and often glamorised. Then I met some friends for soup dumplings after class, with the soup inside the dumplings. They’re difficult to eat neatly, but worth every awkward splash. Finally, I got on to the train, which was delayed as I mentioned, and that’s when I saw Fran Lebowitz.

At midnight, finally home, I scrubbed my face and collapsed into bed, still trying to process my day. I fell asleep quickly, before I reached any conclusions. That’s something great about this city, if you’re restless like me it will exhaust you and you’ll sleep like a rock.