CULTURE

CULTURE@NYUNEWS.COM

Edited by SABRINA CHOUDHARY

Ranked: Places to cry in NYC

By SABRINA CHOUDHARY AND JOEY HUNG

It’s that time of year, babes. Whether midterm season is stressing you out or the changing weather is taking its toll on your mental health, now is the time to let those feelings out. Finding a private place for catharsis in New York City is a bit of a conundrum, especially if you have roommates. But fear not: We’ve ranked some noteworthy public spaces to consider for your next menty b.

11. The subway

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Your crying can be safely covered by the roaring sound of the trains passing by.

Hands down the worst place to cry. Bad on the platform, and even worse in the train car. Especially if it’s 2 a.m. at the West Fourth station? Creepy men stare you down, the lighting looks like something from a horror movie and the ceiling is disturbingly low. We can think of no worse place to cry than a confined space filled with strangers and buskers. Even worse: If you’re crying too hard, you miss your stop. Then you cry even harder.

10. Washington Square Park

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While NYU doesn’t have a traditional quad, the park at the center of Greenwich Village offers many spots to cry between classes.

Without a doubt, this is the most convenient option on the list for the Manhattan-based NYU student. It’s so public that it’s almost private — so much happens in Washington Square Park at any given moment that no one will pay a speck of attention to you. Go ahead and contribute to the chaos. The only downside is the likelihood of bumping into someone you know. On the bright side: If it’s a professor, they’ll probably go easy on you in class, and if you run into a classmate or friend, they’ll totally understand and your bond will probably strengthen.

9. Times Square

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In one of the busiest spots in NYC, no one has the time to judge you for crying. You may not even be the only one.

If you’re already sad, then you can wallow in one of the worst places in the city! This is as public as it gets, but like many places in New York, no one is going to bother you about it. New Yorkers mind their own business, and tourists will be scared of you. Plus, if you’re drunk, the lights are a vibe.

8. Storage centers

Imagine that you’re moving out of your apartment because it’s the end of the school year; you have to go back to your hometown to rot in your childhood bedroom, or you’re moving to Brooklyn because you can no longer afford the Lower East Side. Manhattan Mini Storage doesn’t have student discounts and it’s finals season. You’re crying, because of course you’re crying, but no one offers to help you or even asks if you’re okay.

7. Airport

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LaGuardia Airport might be one of the worst airports in the United States, but it’s a great place to cry.

This isn’t one you’d seek out, but if it happens, it happens. Like Washington Square Park and Times Square, everyone has their own business to attend to, so don’t be shy about sobbing in Terminal D after a disastrous Thanksgiving trip or after fighting the airline for overcharging you for checking a last-minute suitcase.

6. Bobst Library

There are so few places on campus where you can feel a real sense of privacy, but the reservable study rooms in Bobst are special. These won’t work for spontaneous bursts of feelings, but if you can plan your waterworks in advance, it’s a stellar option. The only other catch is that they’re not fully soundproof and the doors have windows in them, so take that as you will. The Lower Level bathrooms and the quiet stacks on the eighth floor are also excellent choices.

5. Kimmel stairwell (eighth or ninth floor)

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The Kimmel stairwell is many people’s place to go when they want a view of the park as they cry and also offers some quietness and privacy.

We’ve all taken photos of Washington Square Park from these secluded windows, or even some selfies when the lighting was right. The combination of the view and the isolation makes it a peaceful spot and a pleasant place to cry as well. Taking in the view of the busy park and the landmarks of the New York City skyline can give you some perspective on your place in this giant city and make your problems feel a little bit smaller.

4. The bathroom of a bar or club

Depends on the type of bathroom. If it’s a multi-stall restroom and you’re under the influence surrounded by supportive drunk people, it’s a great place to have a mental breakdown and have people hype you up before taking mirror selfies with your besties while eyeshadow runs down your cheeks. If you’re in a single-stall bathroom in a dinky club throwing your brains up — less fun, but still a vibe.

3. Tisch School of the Arts

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Crying at the right place can be considered a talent.

Because they’ll just think you’re acting. Duh.

2. The streets of New York at 3 a.m. with a bottle of wine, your vape and best friend

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You can never get too crazy on the streets of this crazy city at crazy hours.

Nothing hits more different than a mid-semester mental breakdown with your best friend. You’re having separate conversations in pajamas; all you’re carrying is your phone and keys. You’re no longer getting head highs from your Air Bar because you hit it way too many times. Random creepy strangers are staring at you and you’re lowkey sussed out by them, but you’re too in-your-feels to tell them to shove off.

1. The steps of a random brownstone

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Crying just makes you all the more cinematic when you sit on one of these.

This one goes out to all the dramatic baddies who want a cinematic moment. East 10th Street is ideal, but the West Village is full of other beautiful options. Take a little stroll past the romantic old buildings, park yourself on a set of those multimillion-dollar steps and let it out. This is an ideal chance to FaceTime your best friend who lives across the country or cry on the phone to your mom. This experience is best for everyone involved if it happens under the cover of night. These areas are quiet, so broad daylight can be a bit much. The downside of this option is that said brownstone’s resident can kick you out at any moment.

All jokes aside, if you’re truly feeling overwhelmed or sad, the NYU Student Health Center offers free counseling. Please make use of these resources and take your mental health seriously!

Contact the culture desk at culture@nyunews.com

UNDERTHEARCH@NYUNEWS.COM UNDER THE ARCH Edited by JULIAN HAMMOND SANTANDER

Dear New York City

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By LORRAINE OLAYA Copy Chief

New York, this is my love letter to you. It’s been some time since I’ve seen the sparkle in your water and sunset reflecting off your buildings. And it’s been a while since I’ve stared up at the sky between your leaves or listened to the sounds of the city.

Living in New York for my whole life, the glamour has been lost on me for many years. But once the snow defrosts and the sun peeks into windows again, New York City’s beauty reemerges to me. Everyone always seems happier after months of winter.

White blossoms sprout from city trees whose roots push up against the concrete. The summer breeze sinks into your skin and rustles through city leaves, light glinting through lush green. And sand, sun and salty sea can be found not far from roaring subway trains. When the sun sets, the clouds are tickled pink, orange and yellow. When autumn returns, the leaves drop one by one with a swish of yellow, red or orange.

It’s funny how nature is found everywhere within the city. A manmade nature: skyscrapers are my mountains, lights from city windows replace the stars and air conditioners drip water like rain. Streetlamps guide light like the moon, and angry cars replace calming crickets.

Who hasn’t thought of leaving you, New York City? The winters are too cold, and rats scurry across sidewalks. With the rising cost of rent, gentrification and police brutality, who would want to live here anymore? But when I focus on the people and nature of New York City, I get pulled in and convinced to stay again. Las personas trabajadoras: the churro lady at the 74th Street Jackson Heights station, the immigrant parents on the trains making their way home. The characters that are found in Washington Square Park: the pigeon man, the grand pianist. The history seeping out of the bricks of Lower Manhattan buildings, and the water and breeze of the Hudson River always keep me coming back.

Living in New York my whole life has spoiled me. I’ve gotten used to stores that stay open all day and night, and the variety of food — from Korean barbecue to bandeja paisas. The sound of passing Q65 buses has lulled me to sleep for most of my childhood. I’ve gotten used to Mr. Softee ice cream trucks and their tempting siren song. I’ve found beauty in the routine commute of the 7 train, spotting artist tags on the side of buildings, walls and anything with a surface. I’ve always loved how the orange sunset reflected off the windows of Long Island City buildings. And in the summer, when the doors open on 111th Street, you can sometimes smell sizzling home barbecues. I’ve taken the subway for granted; it’s such an easy way to just get around to almost anywhere you need to go.

What other city has such a variety of places? Every spot, every borough, every neighborhood is different. Sure, it all blends together when you don’t know where you are, but everywhere you look, there’s something unique. New York City is many cities in one. From the artistry of Greenwich Village to the greenery of Inward Hill Park; from the history in Harlem to the culture in Jackson Heights; from the community in Sunset Park to the people in Mott Haven. Nothing looks the same. Nothing stays the same.

For the past couple of years, my dream included moving away from the city. But now that the inevitable end of my college years is breathing down my neck, I’ve decided to savor every moment. And so, I sit in the heart of my city, in the middle of the parks, in the middle of chaos, in the middle of my home. Listening to the sounds. Breathing it in. Enjoying the moments before I change, or my city changes, again.

Contact Lorraine Olaya at lolaya@nyunews.com