Rough Reopenings

NYC streets have been eerily quiet since mid-March, unhurried as an endless Fourth of July weekend. I can actually daydream during walks outside. Before, inevitably, I would get knocked out of my musings by sirens, pressure blasts from buses, horns, or maybe jackhammers.

But there are new signs of life. Bars and restaurants, hallmarks of the city, are starting to reopen.

Last night I chatted with the two counter guys at my neighborhood Indian place. It was their first day back after lockdown, and we’d grown friendly over the course of the past year with my regular visits. I was the only customer, so we caught up – with social distance and masks – and the shared connection felt good. They remembered my last visit because I’d ordered double to freeze leftovers, just in case. A week later they were closed.

I worried because they’d told me they’d planned to stay open for takeout. Each time I passed the empty restaurant, I wondered how they were doing, and if they’d be back. Turns out they live in Corona, Queens, a neighborhood hard hit by the virus. They feared taking the subway to work.

New Yorkers depend on each other. Restaurants and bars define neighborhoods, but they struggle to make rent in the best of times. They need to max out sales, especially on weekends, just to eke out a profit. How will they survive post-pandemic? Shoulder-to-shoulder crowds are so last February.

I asked my Indian friends if the landlord would help with the rent given the pandemic, and they told me he won’t budge. They signed a contract.

But times call for flexibility. Changes need to happen.

The whole country’s been maxed out for the past few decades. Families need dual incomes just to get by. Staffs across industries are cut to the bone to maximize profit. Income inequality is undoing any promise of The American Dream.

We’ve been barreling full throttle, with no destination and not much to show for it.

Gonna be a rough reopening on multiple fronts.