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I miss my bench. I call it mine, but in reality it belongs to Joe, my local coffee spot, or its owner, Jonathan Rubinstein. One of New York City’s third-wave coffee ambassadors, Rubinstein opened the first Joe in 2003 on West 4th Street, the same week I moved to New York City, to an apartment just a block away. He placed two benches out front, enclosed by a kindly green, wrought-iron fence, off of which both plants and locals hang. I call it the most valuable real estate in the West Village and not because of the demand, which is high, but because it’s the ultimate vantage point.
Nestled between Gay Street and an exit for the West 4th subway stop, it’s the best people-watching in Manhattan. And not just for tourists (they love that we have a street named Gay) or celebrities (Anderson Cooper often trots by; the nearest streetlamp featured a “missing” poster for Charlotte Gainsbourg’s cat) but for locals, the Greenwich Villagers. These are my people: the writers, editors, designers, professors, actors, and artists (and their dealers) who for centuries have given the neighborhood its texture. Sometimes it’s just a nod or not even, and sometimes it’s 30 minutes of laughs and dish and deep discussion, over a cappuccino, over the railing, on my bench at Joe.
Everyone in New York City—everyone, everywhere—has a bench. For some it’s a restaurant, a walk, a karaoke crew, something essential or dear to them from their former life that they cannot wait to return to once the coronavirus lockdown lessens and a vaccine is found—and even then, life might not return to normal. But as Europe begins to thaw and some states (smartly or not) begin to lessen restrictions, we asked a group of prominent New Yorkers—from legends of stage and screen to your favorite yogi—what they’re most looking forward to when the lockdown finally ends. (These interviews have been edited for clarity and space.)
Daniel “Desus Nice” Baker, talk-show cohost and podcaster: Three months ago, I probably would have said someplace trite such as Soho House, Sarabeth’s, or a Juice Press store. (I love all these places; please don’t ban me.) But the thing I want to do more than anything is to see my family. Growing up in the Bronx, anytime there’s a special occasion (graduation, birthday, new Jordans dropping, etc.) we celebrate at the French Riviera of the Bronx, a.k.a. City Island. So my wish would be to rent out the room in the back of Lobster Box Restaurant on City Island for all my family and get bloated on crab legs, garlic bread, and colorful drinks with way too much alcohol in them. I want to see my nephew be picky with french fries. I want my siblings to call me Hollywood in a half-mocking, half-proud way. And I want them to all stare at their phones when the bill comes, which I will happily pay.
Melissa Villaseñor, comedian and Saturday Night Live cast member: I am looking forward to sitting in a diner and having breakfast. I really like the Waverly Diner, the scrambled eggs and hash browns. It comes in a pan. I always get a side of pancakes, at least one or two, and a cup of coffee. It makes me feel happy and creative and comfy. I’m not a bar person or a nighttime person. I just feel like myself in a diner, especially if I have a funny comedian friend. And you can talk to all the waiters and make some jokes. Often I go by myself; I eat alone a lot. I don’t mind it. I have my journal or a book.
Ben Schwartz, actor and comedian: “I’m looking forward to just seeing people. Friends. Family. Coworkers. Recently, I bartered with a friend that lives nearby, where they left some fun homemade drink in a jar outside of their home for me and I replaced it with a sweatshirt and an action figure as a thank-you.
Krissy Jones, co-owner of Sky Ting Yoga: I cannot wait to put on an uptown look to see something at the Metropolitan Opera or New York City Ballet. Thinking about this whole experience makes my heart melt. I love dressing up, meeting my friends by the fountain at Lincoln Center in the mist, waiting in line to pick up our tickets at will call, hearing the sounds of the orchestra warming up, flipping through the program book, drinking pink Champagne during intermission as quickly as possible before the bell rings, and being moved to tears by live art. And then after the show, having oysters and steak frites at Cafe Luxembourg. I’m even looking forward to getting in a cab going downtown, cutting through Central Park on 66th Street at night, and going home tired and happy. Heaven!
Rachel Sennott, comedian: When I think about what I want to do once the quarantine lifts, my first thoughts are just like anyone else’s: I want to do poppers and fall down a flight of stairs at my birthday party, have sex in the bathrooms at the Metrograph, and drive around in a limo with all the girls in the world (drinks are free)! But even though I want to (and will) do those things, what I’m looking forward to most is a lot more simple. I want to go to the store for one item. Just one. There’s nothing I miss more than breezing out of my apartment in a sheer nightgown and Uggs to pick up one singular thing. The more random and unnecessary the item, the better! Sometimes I didn’t even know what the item was before I got to the store! I’m going to wander around slowly, possibly for like 40 minutes, and then decide to buy a candle or a packet of vegan cheese or olives. Then later that night, I’m going to do the limo and the sex stuff.
Angie Mar, executive chef and owner of the Beatrice Inn: “Sunday Supper is, and has always been, an important tradition for my family. It’s a time of the week when our lives are put on hold: We cook the foods we love, drink the wines we covet, and catch up with each other. I have still been doing virtual Sunday Suppers with my loved ones, but it’s never the same. When we are able, I cannot wait to do a proper one in the back room of the Beatrice. My brothers would fly out from the West Coast, and all my best friends would be in attendance. We are of course all hardcore carnivores, so we’ll cook all of our favorites: roast duck flambé, rack of lamb, and, of course, dry-aged beef.
Tschabalala Self, artist: I really miss going to my favorite take-out spot in Harlem, Famous Fish Market. It’s always pretty busy, and everyone crams into the basement storefront to give their orders and wait for their food. It is so popular sometimes that the wait can be a bit long, but what used to feel like an inconvenience now seems like a luxury: the opportunity to stand around on St. Nicholas in the fresh air, making small talk in small quarters with strangers, neighbors, and friends. My most distinct memory is loud music coming from the parked cars right outside of the store—summertime vibes, nice brightly colored coupes, red cups, and tracksuits.
Julio Torres, comedian and writer: I miss seeing my friend’s mouths less than six feet apart. I also miss not doing laundry in my kitchen sink. Look, it’s fine. I’m only wearing like three things, but I can’t wait for a machine to take care of it. You see, I have a nice apartment, I’m proud of it, but it doesn’t come with laundry. In fact, that was a selling point for me, because I feel like people who live in small N.Y. apartments with washing machines become obsessed with laundry. Their lives become laundry: folded clothes everywhere, the detergent out. “Oh, if I want to wash a T-shirt, I can run it with just that!” That’s not me. But washing my shorts over the sink also doesn’t feel right. And as I do, I’ve started to think about how entire families elsewhere in their own small N.Y. apartment are probably doing a variation of the same thing, but times four or five, maybe six. Families that aren’t just one niche, single, little comedian who likes things to be a little difficult. I’m eager to get to walk five blocks with a heavy and shapeless bag of clothes. So, fine, next apartment will maybe have a washing machine. Hopefully we all come out of this learning a little something.
Alison Roman, chef and author, Dining In and Nothing Fancy: I’m looking forward to going back to the Russian baths (the mean man who gives me a scrub, the pork pelmeni, and the half-orange, half-lemon juice sipped between vodkas), having a martini at Cervo’s, and sex with a human. Not necessarily in that order. But not not in that order.
Sander Lak, creative director, Sies Marjan: Just being able to commute on the subway. I actually hate cars. I get nauseous, so I take the subway everywhere. Whenever we need to go to a meeting out of the office, I run to the subway before anyone can call a car. It’s the little things that I miss. Another thing I cannot wait to do again is get a foot massage. After being on my feet all day and walking everywhere in the city, it’s the best thing ever. Near our office, there is this amazing family-run place, Shun Fa Relaxing Center, where I always go. I miss seeing them.
Maryam Nassir Zadeh, designer: Driving my car out of the city with family. My husband bought me a 1982 Mercedes-Benz 300D Turbo Diesel back in 2010 for my 32nd birthday. One of my favorite experiences living in New York is driving that car to Long Island and spending days beside the ocean with my favorite people.
Joel “The Kid Mero” Martinez, talk-show cohost and podcaster: When this is over and it’s clear to go back out in public, I am going to get a professional haircut, get space-age smacked, and pull up at my beloved Locksmith and request a table be put outside (even if it’s snowing). Eating outside with the caveat that it’s not my backyard will probably feel like when the cargo ship rescued Tom Hanks from his island of balls.
Sir Patrick Stewart, OBE, actor: I want to embrace and hold tightly family, friends, and colleagues. Look into their eyes and hear their words. And these moments, I shall carry with me always.