I left work early on Friday and decided, on a whim, to walk the Brooklyn Bridge alone. No plan, no person to coordinate with, just me and 6,000 tourists with selfie sticks.
This is a deeply unserious activity. The bridge in June is chaos. Cyclists screaming at pedestrians who wander into the bike lane, families stopping dead to photograph the cables, a man playing the saxophone slightly out of tune. I loved every second.
Walking the Brooklyn Bridge alone is a different thing than walking it with someone. When you're alone, you stop trying to share the view and you just let it hit you. The Manhattan skyline behind, DUMBO ahead, the East River doing its glittery thing in the gold-hour light.
I took the 2 train to the Brooklyn Bridge stop and started from the Manhattan side, which is the wrong way according to people who have opinions about these things. But I wanted the city at my back and Brooklyn opening up in front of me, like a question.
There's a specific song that plays in my head whenever I do something cinematic alone, and yes, it was a Shah Rukh Khan number, arms-out-on-a-bridge energy, except I kept it internal because I have some dignity.
Walking the Brooklyn Bridge alone made me realize how rarely I'm actually by myself in this city. There's always a roommate, a coworker, a podcast. Friday I had nothing in my ears and it was almost loud, the quiet of it.
By the time I reached the DUMBO side I was sweaty and slightly sunburned and completely content. Got a scoop from a window near Front Street, sat on a bench, watched the carousel turn under the bridge.
Three summers in and New York still does this to me. Takes a random Friday and makes it feel like the opening scene of something.
Walk somewhere alone this week. Let the city tell you a story.
Love,