Sitting in the middle of downtown Manhattan is Union Square, a crossroads connecting the eclectic neighborhoods of Chelsea, Flatiron, Gramercy Park, and NoHo. It's a meeting place where all colors and stripes of New Yorkers rub shoulders with the likes of English tourists, West Coast artists, New Jersey grocers, and Mexican snack vendors. It is the site of many sensations, the confluence of conflicts, and, for myself, the place of many personal traumas. Below, I present to you an extremely factual summary of its features.
Union Square is an eyeful of delightful. There's always something that makes me stop and mutter, das new yawk city baybeee. Hover over the points below to see what surprises await!
At the intersection of four major streets, Union Square is as loud as a pack of mice living in your pot cabinet. Unfortunately, the noise did not drown out the argument I was having with an ex over the phone when an acquaintance biked by, staring. Perhaps some of these random objects in the park, rated on their effectiveness as Foley sound props, might have been more helpful in overpowering the sounds of my embarrassment.
There's a certain mystique to Union Square that attracts lovers. Maybe it's the intimate two-seat tables, the secluding foliage, or the high likelihood to encounter underdressed individuals, or maybe it was the Sephora that was once on the North side that helped me save face on many impromptu Tinder dates. Unsurprisingly, none of those dates worked out, but maybe I'd have better luck with these inanimate objects.
Let's face it, fighting in public is fun. In 2014, I ended my friendship with Susan A. on the southside steps of Union Square after watching Pacific Rim at the 14th St AMC. Like the most common type of relational conflict I overheard in the park, ours was personal. Further findings are recorded below.
Typical New Yorkers wearing black even in summer. This is what I say to myself as I roll my eyes and walk by with my iced coffee and all-black jumpsuit, of which I own three variations.