The first attempt to prove that New York is the city that never sleeps fails terribly. When I stand in front of the supermarket around the corner from my apartment in Brooklyn at 10:53 p.m., it has been closed for 53 minutes. This is not only stupid for the work assignment, but also for me privately: The first coffee tomorrow will be without milk. And one of my best friends will once again see herself confirmed in the fact that every city in North Rhine-Westphalia is at least as progressive as New York.
But well, maybe it’s the area: Clinton Hill doesn’t just have the American establishment in its name – it’s as exciting here in the evenings as in Munich-Bogenhausen. (Who has never been there: not at all.) If large parts of the sidewalks hadn’t been torn up, sunk in or otherwise deformed into tripping hazards, one would be inclined to use an extremely German expression: in the evenings the sidewalks in Clinton Hill are folded up.
That’s why experiment number two is going to Williamsburg, the natural habitat of young people with horn-rimmed glasses, carrot pants and jute bags. The common hipster is aesthetically a free spirit, uses unisex toilets as a matter of course and also considers the concept of day and night to be outdated. Going through is just as much a philosophy of life in Williamsburg as hot yoga and acai bowls. One thinks. Until the manager in the 24-hour diner advises you to come back on a Friday or Saturday evening – there is more going on.
I beg your pardon? What about work hard, play harder, the capitalist party motto par excellence, which supposedly no longer fits any city than New York? There is more going on in the museum at night.
The Sunday triathlon of many New Yorkers: sport, brunch and walking
Of course, there are clubs in neighborhoods like Williamsburg that boom the bass well into Sunday afternoon. But most New Yorkers only hear them when they stroll by. At this time you are already at the end of your Sunday triathlon, consisting of the disciplines sport, brunch and walking.
The app, which you can use to book courses in different yoga and fitness studios, indicates that you can train in a nearby gym at midnight. But that doesn’t mean that you have to argue about the devices at this time. But for the fact that the owners do not get their 24/7 concept financed otherwise. And whoever lives in Bushwick (the new Williamsburg, or again not, as is always the case with in-quarters) over a 6-person flat share, may find that smoking weed is not an off-peak job here, but a full-time job. But we’re not talking about a few exceptions to an unbounded lifestyle.
For minimalists: Midnight snack in a diner or restaurant that is open 24/7. For example in “Veselka”, an institution in the East Village (144 2nd Avenue, more information here), which serves Ukrainian cuisine. If you get hungry quickly, there is a cup of spicy and wonderfully red beetroot borscht – and the slightly gruff waitress explains that “Veselka” translates as rainbow. This is real big city romance.
For postcard motif enthusiasts: The New York skyline at night – this picture is as beautiful as it is worn out. Unless you experience it yourself. The Empire State Building is open every day until 2 a.m., the last elevator to the viewing platforms leaves at 1:15 a.m. (more information and ticket prices here). Start up, take photos, indicate.
For couch potatoes: A city trip like this can be exhausting – even more so if you are one of those people who prefer to spend the evening at home on the sofa with a good film. The iPic Theaters offer just that: cinema while you cuddle under a blanket on bed-like armchairs. If you want, you can even have food and drink delivered directly to your seat. Address: 11 Fulton Street in Manhattan, more information and ticket prices here. And now – feet up.
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The city that never sleeps – that sounds like a collective, urban philosophy. Imagine people dancing under street lights at 2 a.m. on a Wednesday. Or at least nationwide supermarkets that are open around the clock.
Instead: limited shop opening times, reduced traffic, almost empty streets. Incidentally, also in Manhattan. Yes, there are people you meet on the street at night who hold beer cans in brown paper bags in their hands and yell around. But these are the people who don’t have a job that is worth going to bed and getting up for. Your insomnia isn’t glamorous, it’s bitter. When they finally go to bed, it may be in the hope of simply sleeping through the lack of perspective in the morning.
Even the great Frank Sinatra went to sleep in New York
But where does the often dreamy myth of New York as a city that never sleeps come from? Maybe you just can’t take it literally. Presumably it is more about those things of which New York – despite all hardships – seems to have an almost inexhaustible supply: energy, creativity, the spirit of discovery, the urge to create, love of life. After all, even Frank Sinatra, the man who once sang an immortal hymn to the city (and who may have played a decisive role in fueling the myth), has been proven to go to sleep. To conquer the world from New York the next morning.
I wanna wake up, in a city / That doesn’t sleep / And find I’m king of the hill / Top of the heap
This little town blues / Are melting away / I’ll make a brand new start of it / In old New York
If I can make it there / I’ll make it anywhere / It’s up to you / New York, New York
