The Apollo Creed

New York is a quaint place. Terms and phrases are coined and used here like no place else. For example, no employees exist in New York, only “professionals.” Lawyers, grocery clerks, executives, marketers, street vendors, and mobile phone salesmen all fall under this “professional” umbrella.

I work in the corporate world. Truth be told, I don’t actually work much, but I put in my time. I mix and mingle with “professionals” in and out of work everyday. To get away from the professional world, I take a 15 minute walk from my apartment to see amateurs perform in the world famous Apollo Theater.

I’ve lived in Manhattan for nearly a year now. The Apollo is the only place I insist people visit. It has soul, character, and heart. It is where people from all walks of life gather to cheer (or boo) aspiring stars. Last night my friend and I booed five acts right off the stage.

We walked home through Marcus Garvey Park in the warm, light rain. We made deliberate steps to avoid smudging our sneakers. It was an unusually quiet night. I noticed only one homely man in the park. Neither he nor we were under an umbrella. Though, underneath my sticky t-shirt, it was just quiet enough to feel the respect of Harlem beating in my chest.