Nina In New York: Peace Sign Brings War To The UWS
A young professional's take on the trials and tribulations of everyday life in New York City.
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By Nina Pajak
The Upper West Side is a war zone. Earlier this summer, someone put a lighted peace sign in one of the round windows on the top floor of the historic Ansonia building.
Since then, lines have been drawn. People have said things they can't unsay. Tears have been shed, fists shaken in anger. Neighbors are quoted anonymously for fear of retaliation. Some cry, "Leave it up for peace!" Some say, "there can be no peace until it is removed." No blood has been shed.
Yet.
Let's back up. I love my neighborhood. The UWS is charming and beautiful, it boasts a riverfront, lots of great supermarkets and modern conveniences, Riverside Park and Central Park, we never ever ever have to take the 6 train, and new restaurants and shops and old mainstays alike. It's a lively area for singles, young married couples, families, and older people whose rent-controlled, pre-war, doorman apartments I'd rather not think about too much lest I lose my cool. Plus, we're home to 99% of all Seinfeld exterior shot landmarks.
See: The 3 Best Bars On The Upper West Side
But to love all the great things about this hood is to accept and even be fond of its eccentricities. Namely, all the eccentric people who live there. Some of them are elderly and resentful of the recent glut of youth in the area, tired of all those wild kids and their grocery deliveries and stickball games. Some are what I call Yoga Pants Mommies, women who appear to spend their days clad in exercise gear and pushing $1,000 strollers from playgrounds to Starbucks to Mommy and Me Mandarin Immersion Classes. Some are just snobs who live in buildings so beautiful I feel like I'm doing something illegal by peeking into the lobby as I walk past. Some are frizzy-haired or mustachioed psychotherapists (like the Bowery has the lighting district, we're home to the shrink district).
These are the people in my neighborhood. You find these fine folks at Fairway and Zabars mostly, throwing elbows and jamming you in the back of your ankles with their shopping carts. Some of them I've had fights with in the dog run (fast becoming one of my favorite new forms of exercise). They are generally opinionated and aggressive and I love them a little bit for being so committed to their weirdness.
Anyway, with a population like that, it should come as no surprise that a neon peace sign in a little window in a private residence at the top of a gigantic building would cause civil war. Some find it unseemly, ill-befitting an architectural achievement like the Ansonia. Some think it's kinda sweet. Apparently it recently changed from "bordello red," as one malcontent called it, to white, which a few find to be an acceptable compromise. Others will not rest until this neighborhood blight has been darkened forever.
Personally, I like the peace sign. First, it's cute and lends a little character to the skyline, and second, whatever. Get a life. Nobody complains about your ugly curtains, why should this person get flack for a silly peace sign just because he or she has the good fortune to live in a penthouse apartment in one of the most beautiful and sought-after buildings above 59th Street?
Anyway, I much prefer it to what my backyard neighbors hang, which is NOTHING, so that our view of their naked bodies is completely unobstructed, even on a beautiful Sunday afternoon.
We don't need to give peace that big a chance. Too much, you guys. Way too much.
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Dear Readers: While I am rarely at a loss for words, I'm always grateful for column ideas. Please feel free to e-mail me your suggestions.
Nina Pajak is a writer and publishing professional living with her husband on the Upper West Side.
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