The holidays in New York feel similar to most days in New York, albeit with a little twist. Instead of figuring out how to haul your bike to your third-floor walk-up, you’re trying to get a six-foot Christmas tree and a weird bag of cinnamon pinecones up the stairs. Chestnuts become a welcoming side dish to your street hot dog or pretzel. It reminds me that existing in this city is a constant test of your ability to adapt.
The sights, smells, and sounds are all still there, but with a little extra jingle and whiff of pine. The occasional feeling of loneliness and the grittiness of the city cannot be masked by holiday spirit. Rather, the gaudy lights of Dyker Heights and flashy windows on Fifth Avenue accentuate it. And that’s how I like it.
