Gassing it Up

Gasoline isn't regulated in New York.
That was a joke and if you live here, you should be laughing your overpriced socks off.
I've always known it but it really stung this weekend, after a trip upstate, where we filled the tank for $2.35 per gallon on the New York/Mass border. A few hours later, back in the depths of the concrete jungle it cost us $3.05 per gallon. I have the picture to prove it. And I couldn't help thinking, gee, we New Yorkers really fork out a ton for the privilege of living in this glam world capital, where the trains don't run, the stations are subterranean stinkholes not to mention glaring fire traps (we were joined by a rat on the platform this morning), you can't get a family-size apartment for a decent rent, and a gallon of milk, sans the hormones, is a steal at $5.99 at Gouge City, also known as Gristedes, where it's faster to walk to Boston, pay for groceries and come home again, than get out of this store. And yet, we cling to it all as though there is nowhere else in the world that can match the sophistication, ambiance, and unique vibe that is the Big Apple as we wantonly destroy everything that made it what it is in the first place, oh let me count the ways. But the world's changed baby. If you really can't live without Coach and Victoria's Secret, well, you can find them almost anywhere now -- no need to confine yourself to Broadway at 84th street. Everything we got is ditto for the rest of the planet and I can't help thinking back to those pre-gentrification days, when it was still cheaper to eat at the local diner than Nobu, when your favorite, independent bookstores weren't being evicted to make way for a nail salon or yet another bank, when condo wasn't a dirty word. Welcome to the global city as it contracts to face the economic downturn. Who's going to fill all those empty retail stores now, and the half-finished ugly skyscrapers cobbled together with sheetrock?
When the dust settles on the last one out after the financial rape and pillage of this poor old town, perhaps it will revert to a place where creative people can live somewhat affordably once more. They won't mind the dirt. Bring it on, I say. Bring it on.