Subway Car Reflections

Very often, I don't feel like my 20-something years at all. In line with the quarter-life crisis or the increasingly popular theory of delayed adulthood, I find in lieu of actually taking much action, I think elaborate thoughts of "I would do X, if Y" and I daydream plans of "if A, then I would do B". Hiding behind many insignificant, self-imposed constraints, I definitely forget how great it is to be a young adult.

For a single day over this Labor Day weekend, I met up with Helen and D in Manhattan. Expertly guided by city-savvy H, we made our way through NYC neighborhoods and places I had only read about in glossy magazines or saw on TV. Through the day, I found myself incredulous at certain moments: I was slightly amazed when our names were called for our lunch reservations at a Zagat-rated hot-spot. I felt deliciously indulgent, when, after lunch, we carelessly gorged ourselves on cup cakes and brownies, then fresh figs all afternoon long as we lounged in the trendiest park just because we felt like it. I caught myself marveling when we grocery shopped and then enjoyed a Debbie-directed dinner of goat-cheese, arugula, and shitaki mushroon pasta paired with a fancy salad and a deep glass of a merlot malbec blend in an impressively clean Williamsburg apartment just because we were ironically too lazy to go out to eat. I still paused in wonderment as we buzzed up boys, no, men, into this apartment late at night for an evening of catching up on life since high school just because we wanted to.

When I left and was making my way back to my family in Queens, the night had picked up a capricious wind that relentlessly threatened to blow up my dress. Hopping the L to the 4 to the 7 train, my thoughts meandered smoothly, unperturbed by the jolts, lights, and noises of the subway cars I sat in. I was serene and content, feeling a strong affection for these friends from high school - all of whom are such well-adjusted individuals doing powerful, meaningful, important work. But perhaps the greatest surprise of the night was that I was feeling this same affection for myself, for joining, maybe just temporarily, but joining nonetheless, the ranks of adults who have successfully attempted this transition before me.

As I sat alone, physically worn out but spiritually renewed, I felt like for a day, I had left the lost and dreary 20-something culture and was part of an altogether different zeitgeist: the one in which young adults claim and celebrate their youth by dabbling in the world of modern sophistication and all the charming adult-ish trappings that come with it. I have a feeling that before long, these will become the stories of the rest of my life.

(photos by the lovely Helen and Debbie)