June Renew: Day Twenty-Six
Corruption Park
This city is full of weirdos. I don’t think that’s out of the ordinary. The weirdos will still be here even after “all this is over.” And hopefully, by that point, we’re only dealing with American-grown weirdos, not the weirdos bussed in from elsewhere. Either way, it’s summertime, meaning all the weirdos are jaunting out of the shadows and giving everyone else a hard time, even in some of NYC’s “safest” zones.
If you haven’t heard about it, a woman was attacked while sunbathing in Central Park. Some jabroni pulled his d*ck out and approached her, tackling her from behind when she tried to run. A daylight r*pe could have occurred in one of the only places in Manhattan that doesn’t entirely suck. And now, no one knows where he is. I heard some speculation that he’s “well-known” around the area, aka a homeless man, but things like this should never even be thought into existence, let alone actually happen.
A healthy city doesn’t tolerate this, nor does it allow itself to get to the point where even a harmless day of sunbathing ends in trauma. And as someone who has gotten her tan many times in Central Park, this one pains me. There’s endless stories like this one in modern day America. I fear we’ve lost our way on the right and wrong that even the safest spaces are getting corrupted. And at the rate we’re going, I wonder if there will ever be a “return to decency” they promised us all those years ago.
Go Away
There are times I’ve felt unsafe in Central Park. It’s not often, but it happens. I have to keep my eyes peeled, but then again, there wasn’t a time in New York City where I didn’t have to be hyper-aware of my surroundings. It’s an unfair comparison for me to even say anything, considering what just happened to this 21-year-old, but things do happen. It’s not right, but here we are.
One time during summer 2021 I headed over to Central Park to just hang out. My favorite thing is finding a good spot on one of the many rock formations, setting up with my laptop and chilling. I was feeling good that day, having swiped on some mascara to make my eyes pop. As I sat there, I looked up to see a young man of South Asian descent walking toward me. “Excuse me, which way is 70th Street?” he asked me. I gave a general point north and made it clear I wanted to get back to writing. I wasn’t angered or anything, I’ll help anyone with directions if they ask. But he kept going, smiling at me, wondering if I was alone and wanted any company. “No thank you,” I said, and he walked off.
I thought that was the end of it. But I wanted the shade. So I walked over to a grassier area under some trees, spread out my big beach blanket and laid out. I made sure there were no kids around and I lit up a little joint, which I probably shouldn’t do again, but I figured why not. Sure enough, that same guy approached me again, acting like it was happenstance he had found me. He told me he smoked too and asked if he could join me. I said no more forcefully this time and he got the message, walking off never to be seen by me again.
Now I want to make it clear that it’s not unusual to see the same characters in any given area of Central Park. It’s huge, but if you stay localized, you’re bound to see some familiar faces. This one was just too familiar. I can’t say with certainty he was watching me, as it felt more like a coincidence than anything. But it rattled me enough to keep that extra eye open every time I visit the one of the only green spots left in Manhattan.
Park and Ride
I can’t remember the last time I went to the Park. Which is annoying, as it sits literally an avenue away from me. Then again, I haven’t gone out there much lately, despite my challenge for this month. I was going to write this from Central Park today, but I certainly channeled this Simpsons bit and said no thanks. I want to get back. There’s just nothing that’s pulling me there right now.
Back in 2016 when Bad Orange Man™ took the reins of the country, something happened. People were driven to absolute madness, but other things started happening. For one, I had never felt safer in this city, even with D*ckhead de Blasio at the helm. But there was like this sheen that came over everything. It all felt so real. So plausible. So possible. People were seen going out in Central Park after dark, which is never recommended to do. But thanks to Pokemon Go, people were there. Families and kids all out at night. It was safe to do so then. It was such a phenomenon that I couldn’t believe I was seeing it in my lifetime, especially at one of my favorite places this city has to offer.
There’s no “returning” to an era. There is only evolution to where you hope you’re lucky enough to run into it again. Some days, things feel like they did when it was all real. All legitimate. Then I hear about these stories and just get depressed again. For now, I will steer clear of too much time in the Park, if only for my own sake. There will be a time to go again. It can’t stay like this forever. It won’t. And as long as I live and breathe here, right alongside Central Park’s thousands of trees, I’ll do everything in my power to preserve the magic we have left.
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