I just did a week and a half long stint on the road, shooting something I can't talk about because of an NDA. I'm sitting here on a plane home from the last leg of the journey, Chicago, and I'm still wrapping my brain around New York CIty.
After getting yelled at by an Uber because he didn't want to meet us where we asked, I had a swift realization that we weren't in LA anymore. It's a place where cabs will run other cabs off the road, a place where the strangers threaten to kill you in an elevator, a place where the wannabe scene makers camp in hotel lobbies, a place that makes you hate everyone instantly. It was a place where the only rule seemed to be "every man for himself."
And that made it beautiful.
It is a place with 8.04 million people, all trying to make it the city their own using any means necessary. It was easy to get pissed off at slow walkers or at lousy drivers or at anyone because you knew you'd never see them again. They were a speck of dust in space to your human experience, as well as everyone looking down from their 82nd floor offices. But at the same time, so were you, and it kept you grounded.
I went into a store that only sold mannequin parts and jewelry displays. There was no reason for that store to exist, but there it was, just off Broadway in Midtown Manhattan. Nobody other than the owner was there, and it didn't look like anything had been sold in weeks. But the store was still open, and in the grand scheme of New York City, also just a speck of dust. I don't know where I was going with that.
I'm still digesting it.