I Get High with a Little help from my friends.
Everyday I sat on my fire escape to avoid getting in trouble by the housing authorities for smoking weed inside my student apartment. As I sat there I used the time to relax my mind. From the sixth floor I could see everything that my surrounding neighbors are doing on their back patios. I observed everything from how many kids the family down below has, to how often the lady across the way sits on her patio to read a book in her underwear. I did not realize that all the times I spent coming out here to get my daily fix in my daily spot, I was figuratively reading the life stories of every Brooklyn Heights resident that surrounded me, and they had no idea. Whether you call this being nosey, or being a New-Yorker, I found it quite enjoying to paint false pictures in my head of what each of these locals possibly do for a living.
Down below I see a rich family who owns a house as tall as my apartment building. Sally and James are married in a three-story house with three little girls, and one little boy; Jessica, Jenna, Jamie and Little Johnny. They have a mexican house-maid who stands in during the weekdays while Father James is at work; God forbid the mother Sally had to tend to the kids by herself, for she doesn’t quite work anyways. The three little girls love to walk around topless, and are quite intelligent for overly-energetic kindergarteners. Little Johnny is always sitting in the living room playing video games. He only comes out when lunch is served, or when there is a water gun around for him to aim at his annoying little sisters.
Above the Brady Bunch, and directly across from me, we have the lady who sits on her balcony in her underwear twice a week reading a book. Her balcony is about 4’ by 4’ and all the way at the top so she feels quite discreet. Little does she know, she probably could have caught me smoking weed about 28 times by now; if not that then she has definitely seen me naked. This lady keeps to herself, she loves reading and watering her plants that sit just above her kitchen sink. I wish someone would take her on a date. She seems so lonely up there.
To the far left I see a young couple who both work everyday, and only get to spend time together on the weekends, except for their late-night cigarette before they go to bed each night. When they spend time together, they spend it outside; They dedicate their weekends to making home-cooked meals and just sitting on their empty patio that contains simply a table and two chairs. They don’t have much, but they enjoy what they have, and it seems to be a beautiful thing from what I can observe.
To the right I have an upper-class white women who has about 12 different plants on her patio that she constantly tends to. Her name is Stella. Stella has no kids, it's just her and her husband. She keeps up with the beautiful patio garden while her husband is constantly at work. It seems as though no one ever spends time enjoying this beautiful area that she has put together. I assume Mrs. Stella spends all of her time at home while her husband makes loads of cash and does not give her the attention she deserves. I will never forget the one day as she was gardening, she looked up and caught me smoking weed. She simply stopped, looked, and smiled. She waved and said hello in a way that she did not care that I was getting high, she was solely happy to see someone with the same grounds that she could just share a brief genuine greeting with. It felt good, and I am sure it felt good to her as well on the other side.
I’ve realized when I do encounter any of these Brooklyn residents across the way, whether they see that I’m smoking weed or not, they say hello. It is a pleasurable feeling, because in a city where everyone keeps to themselves, this is a different atmosphere. I find it to be true that until you find someone with a common denominator, will you genuinely greet them, anywhere and anytime. When you find certain people and realize that there is something that you both share, is when you will come out of your city-ego and open up to your true neighbors. This makes me wonder; Why is it that people in the city are so close together at all times, as they encounter so many different faces in so many places throughout the day.. Why is it that everyone is so hesitant to interact with one another?
I can sit here and observe and judge peoples’ lives all day, but all of the stories I paint in my head while being stoned will always be false. One thing will always be true though, we all share this area that we call New York City, and we are all connected in some way; We are all neighbors. That is the beauty of New York. We will all go about our days constantly judging people but never knowing their real stories. We will never realize our common denominators as people, we will all never have the will to be friends.
As an observer from my fire escape of the Clark Street Residence in Brooklyn Heights, I have gone from creating these high-deas in my head, to accepting every person I shall ever encounter, and greeting them with any gesture possible. The Beatles said it first, “I get by with a little help from my friends, get high with a little help from my friends.” Observing the reality that passes me by in what is the most diverse city in the world, has been a valuable feeling to me. Sure I get high with a little help from my bowl every day, but with a little help from New York City and any person whom shall ever pass me by, whether I know their story or not, they are my friends that make me feel the highest.
