ODE TO NEW YORK
BY JEFF FLIEGLER • SEPTEMBER 2001

I can't help reminiscing about the October afternoon when I stepped out of a cab and into my life for the next year. I was so scared of my new neighborhood. I thought I'd take a bullet before it was over. And it got worse before it got better. I remember pulling an insect the size of a rodent out of our bathtub and the first few nights I slept on a mattress that made a pullout bed at Motel 6 seem luxurious. It only took a few days until I got a job. I have to admit I thought I was pretty cool when I walk passed Radio City Music Hall and Rockefeller Center on the way to work. Then reality hit and hit hard. I was working on the grill at Michael's and my chef told me to "get off the Freeway." A few weeks later I had a plate thrown violently at me, and was called things that you wouldn't call your high school algebra teacher. When winter set in, I can remember never being so cold in my life. I was killing myself in the restaurant all through December. I made a few friends at the restaurant, (including Jeffrey Wurtz, "The General") and I made a few friends through my roommate, savior and great friend Josh (including his brother and wife who lived upstairs). Still I was more alone then I have ever been. Back then, almost every day I questioned my choice to come to New York. When January came I had some visitors from California. It was then I got to do some tourist stuff. I saw a Broadway show, took a tour of Central Park and had a bird's eye view of the Big Apple from the World Trade Center. I remember showing my parents my apartment and having a hole in my roof that was leaking badly. I guess that sums up the first months in Gotham. I left Michael's restaurant in early spring and made a trip to California. This was a big turning point in my life. I was so excited to get back to California and I had a great ten days. But for some reason I couldn't wait to get back to the heart beat -- New York. It was then I got my big break in New York, and everything changed. I was hired at The River Café. I was low on confidence after my grueling stint at Michael's and could just imagine what these guys would do to me. To my surprise it wasn't like that at all. The guys and the Chef took me in right away. My friend Bobby brought me bagels the first week I was there. I had my troubles but I got by and, all and all, I believe I did a good job. During my first week there I started to develop a Brooklyn pride that is installed in me forever. Although I was proud again I was still quite lonely. Josh got a job at a magazine and we rarely saw each other and the guys at the restaurant would go to work and then go home. Everything changed one Sunday night though. Ian, the smoothest cook I have ever seen, brought a bottle of booze and all the cooks sat at the restaurant and drank and talked for hours. My buddy Bobby then insisted I go to his house in Queens. He woke me up with a pair of fake fangs and a chain saw. It was all over after that. Bob and I became good friends over the next few months, and all the cooks at the Café became an extended family. We went to War every night and the only thing keeping us somewhat sane was that fact we were all there together. My life was fun again and became somewhat routine. It wasn't until September eleventh that everything changed. I was sleeping and planning to sleep late, since it was my day off. My sleep was interrupted abruptly when Josh came running in yelling "get the hell up this is serious shit." I had no idea what was going on. I really didn't have any idea of what happened until the next day. My restaurant lies on barge right on the East River and has a beautiful view of the Manhattan skyline. I went to the Restaurant hoping that the previous day was just a bad dream. It wasn't. The Towers where gone. I got sick to my stomach when I turned the corner and the view I loved so much was gone. Over the next days the disaster set in more and more. I saw grown men crying on the subways, I saw fear in the toughest New Yorkers, and I saw people come together in way that I had lost belief in. I was able to go back to work on Thursday. I couldn't wait to see everybody and get back in the swing of things. That wasn't the case. We had just a few customers and we all sat around talking about the evils and telling stories. The Sous Chef, Harry, gave us all hugs and told us how happy he was that we were all alive. Chef told many of us to take the next day off because he couldn't pay us to stand around. That is when I quit denying that fact that my life would never be quite the same. Over the next two weeks I made the best of the situation and tried to get on with my life as best I could. We partied like rock stars the following Tuesday. Sous Chef Harry was a twisted father figure to me over the past few months - it was his last day before going off to get married. It was the last time I was to see some of the guys I had became so very close to. When I said good-bye to Harry he told me not to say good-bye, but instead "till a later date." I won't forget him saying that. Now I have but a few hours left in New York. It hurts me deeply to leave. I can't help but reflect on visiting my friends, the Cooks, in Jersey, when I was about to fold and coming back to the city rejuvenated. I'm never going to forget closing at Michael's and trying to throw Bimba, the porter, in the trash with Dylan and my good friend "The General." Then going across the street to see Dezi, the greatest bartender in the world, and have him call me a homo and listen to Moby and U2 play in the jukebox over and over. Some Nights "The General" and I would head toward Brooklyn together for a few more drinks. I can't forget all the stupid sayings and incidents at the Café that made all the madness worthwhile. I'm not going to miss getting stuck on the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway with Bob at five in the morning, though I'm never going to forget that either. I'm going to smile when I think of all the time I'd look at Bobby at our favorite bar in Williamsburg and he would smile and just say "I feel so good right now." And last but not least, I'm going to miss Josh. Without Josh I would probably be in a ditch right now. He helped me go strong and together we did so well in this brutal city. I'm so proud of him. I don't know what my life is going to be like without him teaching me of music, culture and literature. Most of all I don't know how I'm going to deal without those talks we had a five in the morning at 115 Ocean Avenue and at dive bars that provided me with insight and knowledge that I can only hope to take with me and teach others. I truly lived for a year. I laughed, cried and took a big step forward to becoming the person I want to be. I met the true New Yorkers in Brooklyn and Queens. The people that give this place the heartbeat. I opened my eyes to the race, culture and freedom that makes America. You can only truly appreciate after you have lived in this city and sat under the Brooklyn Bridge. Now is a time of uncertainty and confusion, but I know deep in my heart we are going to bounce back stronger then ever. We are going to do it for the men and women who are no longer with us and we are going to do it because we are strong. We must not forget what made New York and America great. We must not forget the Dream.