The southern part of the Financial District, near the port of the Staten Island Ferry, is like the boyfriend you date because he looks good. He impresses your friends with the girth of his buildings, and everyone wants to rub the manbits of his Charging Bull for luck. But you sort of wish he wouldn’t open his mouth and you secretly want to cheat on him with his best friend, the more popular (and less touristy) Tribeca. Located at the southernmost tip of Manhattan, it’s the section of the Financial District that all the Wall Street hedgefunders are happy to never have to see thanks to its abundance of tourists and complete lack of everyday functionality. There are no grocery stores, cozy brunch spots, or even laundromats.
Now, I’m not saying that the southern border of the Financial District didn’t draw me in at first like tourists to a “Your Name on Rice” stand. In fact, one of the best parts of becoming familiar with the area was learning (back in the day before the station was rebuilt) that you could only exit the 1 train at the South Ferry station if you were in one of the first five cars. So many of my happiest times with this South FiDi enclave involved me standing on the 1 platform as the train slugged out of sight, watching helpless tourists clamoring to the windows and clawing at the doors as they realized they had missed their stop. It truly warmed me in my tunnel of love.
Having worked in the nabe for over four years now, I’ve learned to appreciate the subtler, more positive aspects of FiDi’s shoreline: the way the surf pounds against the pier in time to the beating of your heart, the thrill on old men’s faces when the wind coming off the water lifts the skirts of girls on their way to their internships, the way the entire place clears out after 7 p.m. like your boss the morning after you managed his assets to get promoted from associate to VP, and the fantasies you have about licking the Lady Liberty’s armpit like some copper-flavored lollipop as she beckons to you from the ferry station in that dress that keeps all of her alluring ladycurves a mystery.
South FiDi and its Battery Park may not be NYC’s biggest landfill, but it’s the landfill dearest to my heart. But hey, Tribeca, I’ll always make time for one of your French bistros.
Katie Ett is our hilarious guest blogger. She also blogs at unapologeticallymundane.com and donuts4dinner.com.
‘Neighborhood Erotica’ runs Fridays and is meant to reflect our passion for neighborhoods in a tongue-in-cheek kind of way. Have a unique idea for our blog? Contact us at tips@nabewise.com.
