New York City in the summer

New York City in the summer. I was eighteen and given a hotel room and some cash to blow with my cousin. Ill never forget the rough dirty subways and the suicidal drunken cab rides. Swerving in and out of traffic honking, they seemed so calm. A free reign in the greatest city in the world. We would start walking with a vague destination in mind. The bars didn’t card most of the time. One night looking for something to fill our senses with we stumbled into a basement bar playing live jazz filled with people at least five years older than us. We met a kid from Puerto Rico. He bummed me a smoke. The beer cost six dollars a piece and I tipped the bartender well. They were tall dark glasses that did the job well. I had never been interested in Jazz before, but something about the smoky, swerving, sultry rhythm caught me. Threw me into some kind of mood; liquid suave. Trying to exchange words with the occasional long limbed creature usually resulted in giggling rejection. Thinking back now it was most likely the beer. It didn’t matter. That kind of youthful confidence carried me out of the bar. Out on the street the lamp posts lit the cobblestones beneath our feet.
         We took the subway out to Brooklyn to meet a friend of my dads. There was an air of a culture rich in liberal youth and money. He said there were some places to go. Maybe this bar, maybe that club. He guided us up and down the same street a couple times before we walked through an unmarked door on the unassuming street. The bar was hip, darkly lit and vaulted. My dads friend bought us a few rounds and we talked a bit about the city and school. We had a couple smokes up on the roof. The tobacco was sharp but spiked with depth. He said that we should go to another place. Some bar under a bridge. Walking through this city is strange. To see money and poverty right on top of each other. To see filth and shine grope at one another and remain untainted. Contrast was unrestrained. This place was more gritty…or maybe friendly. They had alternative music playing and a barbeque out back. People were wearing brightly colored shoes while drinking bud light. It seemed like everyone knew each other. Some girl took my picture with a vintage camera. There was only one bathroom. The way home was meandering with a stop for a hot dog while the sun was rising and the city was thriving.
         Already the tourist stops are beginning to haze in my mind, but Ill never forget that jazz bar or those places in Brooklyn.