I miss the days of the $350 per month rental studio that came with a doorman.
I miss being able to walk into any office building without being forced by a Rent-A-Cop to leave a DNA sample and show "proof" that I have an appointment with someone in the building.
I miss real meat in the Meatpacking District, complete with blood running between the cobblestones.
I miss being in restaurants, bars, and lounges surrounded by people who are *present* and open to socializing, rather than buried in their iPhones, iPads, Blackberries, and Kindles.
I miss when people who came to new york were not inspired to do so by a vapid tv show about co dependent girl power and shoes and witty gay bffs and sparkly things.
I miss when people wanted to live in New York because they loved it and felt a connection to it. not because it was the most expensive status symbol for assholes who define themselves in such terms, having little detectable personality beyond ambition.
I miss the nice police officer who politely asked that we smoke our pot across the street, where (he gingerly explained) it's a different precinct ... and not on the church steps where we were doing so at that particular moment.
Street fairs that were actual STREET FAIRS run by informal neighborhood organizations.
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