An exodus has begun. Don’t be alarmed, this is just a short fiction, or not. You decide. My name is Paul Brenner and I’m a fucking writer living here in New York City.
Blame it on the invisible plague. Some kind of virus that originated in China, flourished in Europe, and hit its peak here at my home, New York City. A lot of New Yorkers lost their jobs, their gigs, their daily incomes. Broadway Theaters’ billion dollar revenue came to an unexpected halt. All of a sudden, actors, singers, musicians, playwrights, producers, directors, dancers, and anyone employed by the New York City theaters, found themselves in a lockdown. What’s the most hurtful of all is, the virus took away dreams and ambitions in progress for many people. Not just those in theater. And I’m one of those who ambition in progress got disrupted by the virus. Around March, I had my theater debut as a playwright, at the 2020 New York Theater Festival in Manhattan. I was slated for three performances, unfortunately, towards the height of our third and final performance, the festival got canceled, by order of the City of New York and the State Governor. I also lost my day job at a hedge fund on Park Avenue. The lockdown was declared in the middle of March 2020. All businesses closed except the “essential” ones, these include, grocery stores, pharmacies, and convenience stores. The first thirty days was a depressing period. I’m sure you could relate. After a week of being in lockdown, I got tired of being in quarantine, so I stepped out with my mask on, since the virus was also declared to be airborne. I walked on the theater district in Times Square, in East Village, in Soho, and Lower East Side. I was in search for a little breath of life, amidst the hundreds of death that occurred here in the city where I live. I missed drinking inside bars, dancing the night away in dance clubs in Brooklyn, going to house parties of total strangers that you just meet randomly. I missed all of it, dearly. My unemployment insurance from the New York State and some government assistance sustained my survival. Meanwhile, the majority of New Yorkers, I don’t want to accuse the “rich ones”, started leaving NYC. Some of them, retreated to their mansions in The Hamptons, some went back to their home states in the Midwest, the South, the West Coast, New England, and some to their home countries around the world. New York City has witnessed her own residents abandon her during a dark hour when she needed them most. But thankfully, not everyone left. I could’ve left if I wanted to. I could’ve patched things up with my estranged parents in Los Angeles and waited out the end of the “invisible virus” in the West Coast. But I didn’t. I chose to stay because there’s no place I’d rather be. I love New York City from the bottom of my impatient heart. When I moved here ten years ago from California, the minute I landed at JFK, I knew I was home. I knew that my love for NYC is real. I knew that this place is the empire of my dreams and ambitions. Those dreams and ambitions of mine did come true, although none of it has made me a millionaire yet. I can still prove to anyone that if you’re tough and smart enough to be here in New York City, dreams really do come true for you, considering you’ll put in all the hard work. You will learn to love this city and the city will love you back and will take care of you. It happened to me. And I don’t see any reason why it cannot happen to anyone who’s ambitious and willing to work their asses off.
The exodus of New Yorkers leaving the city continued like a broken water dam. Skeptics and pessimists has written her off. They all looked down at her like a murdered prostitute, that she had it coming. They eventually declared that she’s finished, she’s over. What everyone else has forgotten is that New York City herself, has died and came back alive, countless times when they all thought that she’s dead. The truth is, New York City will never die and she will live for centuries to come.
Fast forward to the month of early October, I’m still unemployed but I’m still writing. Still creating. Broadway theaters are still closed until May 2021. Dreams and ambition are canceled for now. But it does not mean that I stop doing what I love to do.
The melancholia that cloaked the city is still here. Some businesses have opened like restaurants, bars, and art museums, but with limited capacity per governor’s and mayor’s regulations. All the bars and restaurants needed to have an outdoor space so that their businesses would survive. Dance clubs however, are still not allowed to open. Which sucked big fucking time!
One day, I was at Citibank in Union Square in East Village. I needed to speak to an associate since I got a notification that someone in Upstate New York has got a hold of my account information and went on a shopping spree. For that reason, my debit card and checking account got frozen and I have no cash on my pocket. I didn’t have a credit card either. I went in there because I was literally down to my last dollar, and needed to access my bank account ASAP. But what happened when I got there? I was told that I have to wait for twenty four hours to have my issue resolved due to “technical difficulties”. That made me more fucking angry. So I flipped out at the bank associate who was tending to me.
“What the fuck?! Do you have idea what it’s like to be unemployed right now?! My unemployment insurance is set to dry out in thirty days! The pandemic destroyed my dreams on Broadway! What the fuck am I supposed to do?! How the fuck am I supposed to pay rent? How am I supposed to buy food?! Fucking tell me!”
The bank associate looked very sad because he didn’t know that what to say. I was one of the forty million unemployed here in America. After a few seconds, I realized that I was a total asshole for losing my cool. The bank associate walked away and grabbed the manager. Subjectively, I was still looking at them sharply through the glass window. Probably because I was very hungry and haven’t eaten anything that day because I only had a one dollar left on my pocket.
A woman, in her early forties, stood up from her seat and approached me.
“Excuse me, may I speak to you for just one minute?” She asked.
“Sure,” I replied.
I then found out that she’s talent agent at Creative Artists Agency, and that she’s scouting for writers or content creators for streaming networks like Netflix and Hulu. She also said to me that she completely understands what I was going through. Finally, the bank released a portion of my account and I was able to withdraw some cash. The name of the talent agent was Sue Rothschild. For a split second, the first thing that came to my mind was that she was a part of the illuminati conspiracy theory along with the Rockefeller Family.
The following week, I found my little world changed completely around. I handed over a copy of my play ” to Sue at Creative Artists Agency in Midtown Manhattan. During that same week, I was called in their office and they confirmed with me that Netflix wanted to buy the streaming rights for my play and produce it into a Netflix film. When I first heard it, it felt like I was in one of those Hallmark movies where things are finally turning in my favor. But the weirdest part was, I still felt numb despite the good news. A fragment of doubt was still playing in my head. I guess, life itself has knocked me out more than a thousand times so when something good finally happens, I’m cynical. But guess what? This is the reality right now and I need to face and accept it. There’s something good to feel about, and I will not shit all over it.
I walked out of my new talent agent’s office feeling like I’m on cloud fucking nine! After endless years of struggle, my lucky cards finally showed up! I received an advance payment of $50,000. Netflix was willing to pony up $300,000 for the streaming rights but my talent agency wants more and also wanted streaming royalties as well. Of course, I didn’t disagree, the bigger the deal my agent could accomplish, the better it is for me.
I am beyond glad that I never left New York City when everyone else was jumping ship. Perseverance does pay off in the end. I may no longer see my work on stage but hey, at least the world will still see it on Netflix!
XOXO NYC!
Bushwick In Fiction 