E. B. White said, “There are roughly three New Yorks” – that of the native, the commuter and the transplant.  I think he’s on to something, but I think he didn’t go quite far enough.  So I thought I’d ask a variety of people – some New York born, some who have lived here for years, some who make regular visits – even some who haven’t gotten here yet – what their New York is like.

And to kick this new series off, Michelle Cohen -  best described (by me, anyway) as a multi-faceted theatrical force of nature and long time New Yorker.

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One week after I moved from New York to California, I found myself weeping uncontrollably on a secluded beach called Point Magu. I had sold all of my furniture, given up my lease, and arrived at the west coast with the proverbial two suitcases and a dream.

I gazed at the incredible sunset over the ocean but all I could think was “Am I cheating on New York if I admit that it is really beautiful?” and sobbed some more. I was experiencing a severe case of buyer’s remorse. After a lifetime of public transportation, walking to the store down the street, no need for sunglasses since the skyscrapers took care of the glare, and well…bagels, I was having a rough time with this new place. I was the ultimate stereotype—you could take the girl out of Manhattan but you couldn’t take the Manhattan out of the girl . . .

I couldn’t imagine having that same seminal moment in LA I had so many years ago when I suddenly felt I belonged somewhere. I completely remember the moment I realized I was finally a New Yorker. As a little girl I used to come into “The City.” (All due respect to other places like Chicago, Boston, London, etc….when someone says THE city—they are only referencing one place). It was usually with my family to see a play. So I would be all dressed up. The day I knew I was a real grown up city girl was the day I noticed I was walking down the street, schlepping my laundry to the closest Laundromat in my sweats. I was no longer a visitor paying respect to its illustriousness. I lived here and I would wear whatever-the-hell-I-picked-out-of-my-closet-that-wasn’t-in-dire-need-of-cleaning-since-it-was-such-a-pain-in-the-neck-to-find-the-time-the-energy-and-the-24-hour-open-Laundromat! (Oh, the happiness when I discovered the cleaners who would take drop offs and return them perfectly folded and mesmerizingly fresh).

I made a vow to “use up” my experience in NY, lick up every last drop and I can safely say I have done just that. I first lived on 8th street (shoe street) with a fire escape that had front row views to every Gay Pride/Halloween parade imaginable. Then onto a chic apartment building on Lex and 24th with lovely doormen who still remember me years later when I happen to pass by the building. Next, a crazy person’s garden apartment sublet, filled to the brim with plants and original art pieces of modern artists who probably should have been in museums, but for some reason were with me. Then an awesome studio right next to Grand Central that if I lived in the make believe world of movies like Armageddon or King Kong, I would have been dead a lot since my street was always one of the first to be demolished. And then there was the time in real life where the FBI busted the transvestite hooker who had the apartment above mine for his/her, um, work . . . SO, onto a three floor walk up (but so large it was worth it) in Alphabet City which was no longer drug filled and so posh, suddenly people who never left their own neighborhood were very excited to come visit me.

I have even lived in the Bronx where it was sometimes easier to get to Times Square than when I technically lived closer. And most recently an astonishing apartment in Brooklyn Heights which really gave me the best of all worlds—more bang for the buck, easy access to the city, the Promenade and a tree-lined street. I have patchwork memories of living in Queens for the first 5 years of my life, our backyard overlooking JFK. So along with a ferry trip or two to Staten Island, I have more or less resided in every borough.

And while I entertained tons of guests and gave parties, I always made it a point to visit anyone’s apartment to which I was invited. It never ceases to amaze me to get a peek into the myriad of ways people can live. Let alone the sheer ingenuity of how everyone crams all their stuff into one shared space. It is perpetually novel and unlike anywhere else on earth. Suspended, mushed underneath beds, hidden in alcoves. I even was in an apartment once that if you moved one of the books on the bookcase, the entire unit opened as a door into a secret room (not just a closet—an entire room!!)

I tried not to eat at the same place too many times so that I could have a new dining adventure at every turn. I sometimes just picked a part of the city I had never been to yet and discovered what event or historical landmark might be interesting to go see.

Whenever friends came to visit, I took them on the Staten Island Ferry to get a (free) sense of the city as a whole, went up to Rockefeller Center (if the Empire State Building was not convenient) to make sure we got the aerial view. Then I just got on a random bus with them and became an insta-tour guide. I found one of the best routes was down Fifth Avenue from the Conservatory at the top of Central Park, the length of Central Park, the major museums and the beautiful upper east side buildings, the Plaza and FAO Schwartz, the Diamond District, the lions at the library, the Empire State Building, and on and on and then took some other avenue back up. Air conditioned, cheap and if you are lucky, a sassy bus driver who added her two cents to the insta-tour!

As a true New Yorker, I have seen more live events than movies. While taking the 42nd street bus cross town each morning, I watched as they literally lifted one of the movie theatres and moved it to the end of the street before cleaning it up and turning it back into a movie theatre (we won’t think too hard about what it was in between). I have assured more tourists than I can count that I am actually a New Yorker and New Yorkers are nice, after helping them with the door, directions, baby carriage, etc… And I have seen my childhood dream of being a part of the theatre magic come true as I opened my off-Broadway show in Times Square and got to go “play in my backyard” every evening for the duration of the run. And I could show up in sweats or in my pretty dress, depending on my mood, because it was my show and my New York and nothing I needed to prove.

I would have to say though, my most favorite pastime has always been to simply sit on a bench, at random, and watch the world pass by. Every creed, color, look, mood, size, shape, energy. I can spend hours just taking it all in. And there is never a time where something odd, unheard of, magical or just plain weird doesn’t occur. I learned to appreciate it even more every time I went on a plane and at some stopover watched as all the diversity left the cabin. I couldn’t wait to come back home.

So, while it was with great misgiving that I decided to try L.A., I heard tell they made movies there and that seemed to be the next adventure for me to experience.

And thus, I found my black clad self gazing at the water. I had already noted that my inherent kinetic energy, relentless passion and ability to get more than one thing done in a day was hard for most people on the left coast to understand. Only the rough ocean I was presently staring at seemed like it could withstand it all.

Or so I thought.

As night time fell, I had my first ever experience of pure darkness. And this wasn’t of the soul. Literal, for real, darkness. It was cloudy and overcast so there were no stars or moon and there was very little by way of ambient light. While New York stays open all night and is constantly humming and buzzing and giving off little sparks of life even in the stillness of the evening, other places in the world, actually go to sleep. I found it unbearable to be unable to see. I felt like I was in the Truman Show and wanted to push the black sky open and escape into the other, more real world. I hurried to the car (oui, now I was driving after 10 years of not needing to be behind a wheel). And drove back to my sister and brother-in-law’s home where I was staying.

I awoke the next morning to the two of them staring at me aghast. It seems there had been a wild storm right after I left the ocean. And for the first time in recorded history of Malibu, California…during the storm, which was unusually large for the SoCal area, a tornado came off the shore and struck land…at Point Magu.

Oops. Sorry. My bad.

So, it seems I have no choice but to be bi-coastal, since there is now proof that my devastation of being away for too long from the place where I belong is potentially hazardous to the environment and all those who live there.

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About the Author: Michelle is currently working on two feature films she wrote, a biopic on Mary Pickford, “The Girl Behind Hollywood” and a romantic comedy “Beyond Belief” and has storage on both coasts. Check out her website for more information.