The Big Picture: City Life

Highrises. That’s all there is to it. Downtown San Diego is quite the place; so many different personalities it’s hard to find somewhere to start. How about the girl in the pink jacket? She doesn’t look like she lives here. What about that jogger over there? He’s moving way too fast! The group of guys that just came out of the restaurant? Too intimidating. How about we try the lady walking her dog? Perfect.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“No… I’m sorry but my dog is very sick.”

OK?

The day kept going this way, swarming around people who didn’t want to be bothered on a Monday morning. All these people not quite in a rush, but not quite lolly gagging, just simply wanting to keep to themselves and wanting others to do the same. In a city area like downtown San Diego, there was a certain flow that went to it. Everyone knew what to do and when to do it, and they didn’t like it when outsiders messed it up. Tourists always found themselves victims to messing up The Flow that a city had. They didn’t know, they just wanted that perfect socks and sandles family photo in front of the Midway.

God those shoobies….

Bankers Hill is a quiet area, only being disrupted by construction down the street and… what is that sound? A car horn maybe? Yeah, a car horn and a young guy, maybe around 25, sticking his head out of his rolled down window, “move outta the fuckin way, bitch!” he yelled to the car next to him, giving a girl in the car a piece of his mind. He yelled until his face was as red as the stop light that eventually turned green, and the embarrassed girl was able to zoom away. The guy eventually was able to make his turn in full disgust, but we could all hope that his day wasn’t about to be as horrible as the girl’s who he just yelled at.

There was a mailman down the street who had witnessed the ripple in The Flow himself. Maybe him.

“Excuse me, can I ask you one quick question?”

“Sure.”

Wow, it worked. “Can you describe downtown San Diego to me in your own words?”

He thought for awhile. “You know, I grew up in San Diego and I still love it. There are great people. As for the city, it’s under construction. It’ll make it there though.”

“Thank you so much for your input. Do you mind if I take your name?”

“John T. Have a fantastic day.”

John T. offered a huge smile as he got into his mail car and drove to the next block. John T. seemed to be a bland man, trying to choose his words carefully, not really wanting to reveal his true feelings. Thanks a lot, John T. Surely there was more to what these people were thinking, but why would they want to tell it? Keep to yourself…

There was a bench with an old man sitting on it, waiting for his bus, keeping to himself. He was staring at his thumbs, looking almost sad waiting for his bus. There was a spot next to him.

“Can I ask you a quick question?”

“My bus is coming…but if you talk fast-”

“Okay, what do you think about downtown San Diego? Describe it in your own words.”

“It’s okay here.”

Just okay? I looked at him skeptically.

“It’s too…commercial. Just as quick as we build something, we just knock it down. We are missing important aspects of culture.” A bus approached. His bus. “This is it. I’m around if you want to talk more.” The Bus Guy dug coins out of his pocket and boarded the bus. He wasn’t wearing shoes. But the no shoes Bus Guy had a point. It seemed as though the only thing he really owned were the highrises in San Diego, and he obviously wasn’t impressed. He wants more; something other than the modern change that San Diego often experienced. His idea reminded me of someone I had met earlier in the day—Katina K., a girl from Europe. She was taking a picture of a street sign, looking tall and skinny wearing a backpack with jeans and a white blouse. She looked foreign.

“Can I ask you about downtown San Diego?”

“I’m not from here,” she spoke with a heavy accent. Not quite Dutch, but something like that. “I’m visiting from Europe.”

“Okay, sorry to bother you, but really quickly, what do you think about downtown San Diego? You say you’re from Europe, how does this city compare?”

She gave a little giggle before answering the questions. “Well, here it is new and modern, with all the highrises,”—highrises, that’s all there is to it— “and new, ehh, architecture. It’s missing the old that the cities in Europe have. There are old, eh, aspects in places like New York too, but I don’t see it here. It is very beautiful though, and each part has its own, eh, how you say… atmosphere, I suppose?”

“Yes, there are so many different sections in downtown San Diego. You get something different everywhere you go. You mentioned New York. Have you been?”

“Yes, it’s a beautiful city. It’s, eh, overwhelming, but I enjoyed it there. I loved Brooklyn.”

My shoes made a squeaking noise on the freshly clean hallway floor, still shiny from the water the cleaning people had poured all down the hall, making the potent smell of lemon cleaner hang in the air. A dog barked as we passed an apartment door, our suitcases making loud, echoing sounds that must have disturbed the mutt on the other side. Apartment 133. I jammed the key in the lock to reveal the most beautiful loft apartment (compliments of AirBnB) I had ever seen, pixie lights hanging from the high ceiling with window plants lining a whole glass wall that gave the perfect view of Manhattan. “Hey, you have a perfect view of the main event,” my City Brother Andrew said. And that’s Brooklyn.

“When I went, I stayed in Brooklyn. I loved it too.”

“You know what’s very different about New York and here? It’s that when you see something in New York, you get, eh, a story I guess. I would see let's say eh, an old building, and I almost knew exactly what happened there.”

Wasn’t it just 70 degrees yesterday? Rain poured in heavy drops, and it was so cold outside. City Brother was in flip flops. Not the brightest idea was it? He complained so much about his decision. In fact, he complained often about a lot of different things, not just flip flops in the rain. He slammed on his breaks and laid on his horn, moving his car violently and slowing down next to the taxi that had just cut him off, “learn how to drive, asshole!”

“No you learn how to drive!”

“Don’t start with me! I’m tired of you taxi pricks!” Taxi pricks, always messing up the New York Flow. City Brother zoomed off. We had finally made it, after sitting for 30 minutes in traffic, to the 9/11 memorial. “I’ll just drive around the block until you guys are done. Go be tourists.” Sure, let us mess up the flow.

The scene at the memorial was amazing, with the most incredible vibe that was so hard to explain. Two giant holes in the ground, not but 140 feet from each other, water streaming down the sides, names carefully carved all round the borders of both…one giant blue building stretching higher than the originals—so high it was lost in the clouds, and another one not but 140 feet across the campus getting built bigger and better. I walked around, letting the misty rain stick to my clothes. Stanly ________ had a single white rose sitting in the N of his name. Happy birthday, Stanly, water droplets slipping down the delicate petals. I looked at the rose, and I felt as though I knew Stanly. He seemed like a simple, hardworking man, lost in a world that was slowly being destroyed. We rebuilt for you, Stanly.

The new World Trade Center campus was planning to have six buildings, two buildings known as World Trade One and the Oculus were already built. World Trade One was the official replacement, built so high you could see the whole city from the top, and made so strong there was no way this thing was falling. The building across the campus was to be built higher, looking like a staircase. There was so much change just in this spot, but New York managed to keep The Big Picture the same. Take that.

“Wow, that is absolutely fascinating, thank you so much. Do you mind if I take your name?”

“Katina K. Do you happen to know how to get to The Park from here?”

Katina made her way up the street and slowly out of sight. She was a fascinating person. So much change, but the big picture has managed to stay the same. This is what Bus Man wasn’t thinking about. Yes, San Diego is commercial, but we haven’t managed to lose our City’s personality. Buildings are torn down and then built right back up, but there are still the same vibes in the sections of downtown San Diego. No matter what, The Gaslamp will always be a party, Little Italy will always be entertainment, Balboa Park will always be sleepy, and the Waterfront will always be relaxed. Little Ripples have the capability to alter The Flow, but no matter what, The Big Picture will stay the same. New York experiences more ripples and has changed more than any other place due to the abundance of people, but the city still functions and the people still are stereotypical New Yorkers, the original City People.

Cities are complex places that make whole countries function to their greatest capability...but honestly, highrises—that’s all there is to it.