From the NY Post:
I fled NYC amid COVID — and it was the worst decision of my life
They took off in a hurry — but these New Yorkers are on the express line back to the city.
When the pandemic hit in March, Zachary Thacher packed his suitcases and joined the record-breaking exodus of city folk leaving town.
“I was feeling cooped up and thought I wanted to have a more rural life that was more in tune with nature,” said Thacher, who gave up his one-bedroom apartment in the West Village in April. “I thought I wouldn’t come back.”
Turns out, not all New Yorkers are cut out for country living.
Or camping.
“I was definitely not in farm-shape when I got there,” said Thacher, who volunteered at a friend’s organic farm for four and a half months.
And so after testing out life in Massachusetts, Vermont and Beacon, N.Y., Thacher settled on, well, Brooklyn.
That guy looks like he gets tired ordering a cup of coffee.
On June 1, [Maureen Cross] signed a lease on a much bigger three-bedroom flat in Burlington, Vt., where she moved with her two Siberian huskies.
She was living in a tiny one-bedroom apartment.
“After two weeks I was like, ‘Is this all there is? Where is everybody?’ ”
She was so acclimated to living in a phone booth that a normal size apartment felt cavernous.
“I moved back right in time for the Met reopening,” said Cross. “When I walked into the room with the Jackson Pollock and Mark Rothko paintings, my cells fell back into place.”
That is the most arrogantly New York thing I have ever heard.
Earlier this year, Jenn, who works for a radio station and declined to give her last name, moved out of her apartment on West 87th Street with her husband and two daughters, ages 4 and 8.
“When June came, I lost my mind and agreed to buy a pool that came with a home in Albany,” said the 44-year-old, half-jokingly.
The former Upper West Sider said she “misses everything” about the city, but agreed to stay put considering her husband loves the ‘burbs and her kids are “thriving.”
You mean that children thrive when they are allowed to grow up the way humans are supposed to and not crushed under the weight of a billion tons of oppressive concrete jungle that blots out the son and creates stagnant pools of smog to breathe?
Who but a New Yorker would be surprised by that?
Noelle, a 32-year-old commercial real estate developer, recently decamped to Whitefish, Mont., with her partner and their two young children.
Thankfully, they still have the keys to their Gramercy place.
“I miss talking to the doormen in the morning when I walk my dog,” said Noelle, who declined to give her last name for privacy reasons.
You know what the best part of owning my own home is? Not getting permission from someone to enter or exit my home.
“I miss going outside and being able to talk to people.”
Bullshit, New Yorkers don’t talk to strangers. They occasionally scream profanity at them but I’ve never met a New Yorker have a conversation with a stranger on the street. I have seen that in the Midwest. I assume what she means is that she’s tired of the friendly locals in Montana talking to her and she wants to go back to where if she’s outside, people avoid making eye contact.
While hiking, swimming and sledding are nice, she said they don’t hold a candle to visiting the Central Park Zoo with the kids or date night at Casa Mono, one of her favorite neighborhood restaurants.
Even her toddler can’t wait to return to his cosmopolitan routine.
Said Noelle: “My son looked at me one day and said, ‘Mommy, I miss sushi.’ ”
There are in fact three Sushi restaurants in Whitefish. Noelle here has shut herself into her place in Montana and not left it to see what is around. Why not drive down to Yellowstone or Big Sky National Park. She could see bison roaming free, not cooped up behind bars. Except that as a New Yorker, she feels more comfortable in a tiny cage surrounded by artificial nature and than in the wide and open air.
New York City is a human zoo, and like zoo animals raised in captivity, they have no idea how to thrive in the wild if they are released.
It really is time to build a giant wall around Manhattan Island and turn it into a maximum-security penitentiary like out of a John Carpenter movie.
New Yorkers will probably thanks us for it by making them feel more comfortable, like wrapping them up in a security blanket.
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