Leah McCann Smith | Writer & Editor

I’m writing to all the people that want to “do New York”—the recent college grads; the people who’ve lived in sunny California for a couple years, but want to move here to experience something faster-paced; and all the other people who want to check New York off their bucket list—the ones that have an idea of what it’s like to live here…before they actually live here.

Because before you make that big move, there are a few things you need to understand. One of which is this: living in New York is nothing like visiting it.

New York is not always pretty—both in a literal and figurative sense. It’s not all Broadway, heat emitting from the ceilings of swanky hotels, and flashing lights. Well, there are flashing lights, but they’re usually cop cars or ambulances. There are days where I don’t know how the hell I make myself get out of bed, because it’s so damn cold and miserable, and the overcast skies make you want to crawl under a rock. But somehow, I seem to do it. I get up and I go about my day.

There are times when my body has hurt so bad, and your only way to get around is the subway or a bus, unless you’re willing to dish out 30 bucks or more for a cab to Brooklyn. I don’t have 30 bucks to dish out on a cab. And when I do, I feel it in my bank account the next day.

You haven’t lived in New York until you’ve seen people passed out on the train (or the subway, whatever you want to call it)—drunk, naked, or with feces all over them. Oh yeah, and in general, the subways usually smell like urine. It’s not something you really get used to.

I’ll never forget that time that my mom visited me last year. The trip was high with stress. One night, my mom told me that I’d lost my southern charm. The way that made me feel stung. I’ll never rid myself of that feeling and of those words.

You haven’t lived in New York until you’ve witnessed a fight. A middle-aged couple came onto the train with two strollers, one kid in each. A few stops later, two younger ladies—perhaps in their late 20s or early 30s—walked on. I didn’t see the whole thing from the start, but I did hear voices at a higher decibel than normal. The couple and the two younger women were clearly engaging in some sort of argument. Next thing I knew, both women had whipped their jackets off, implying that they were ready to fight. This whole time, the kids—toddlers, really—were still in their strollers. They were physically and figuratively in the middle of all this. I looked at the kids, feeling sorry for them, and realized even they had amused looks on their faces. What the—? The air was tense and uncomfortable. I saw the man (presumably, the father) pull out a pocketknife. I got up instantly at the next stop to change train cars.

I kept thinking about what happened. I realized there were people who didn’t even look up or notice the fight at all. Perhaps they didn’t want to make eye contact. Perhaps they were scared. Though I don’t think that’s true for the woman sitting next to me, squeezed in between me and another woman. A few times, I glanced over her shoulder (guilty as charged) as she was typing a to-do list, likely for work, on her phone. She did not have headphones in, and not once did she look up to observe that, quite possibly, her safety might be in danger. I may be too quick to judge—maybe she was unfazed. I just know, for me, if I hadn’t been watching, and someone had gotten hurt, I would’ve regretted my neglect. I come first. Work comes later.

You haven’t lived in New  York until you’ve seen people (or are one of those people yourselves) who have been worked to the bone—literally. A friend of mine, while at an internship at an ad agency in New York, lost a lot (and I mean a lot) of weight. Late hours, lack of nutritious snacks in the company’s fridge, and this person’s own internal stress were all factors at play. Now, I know it’s all contextual. But I can say that I’ve seen the evolution of friends and coworkers who have started a job in New York and, two months later, the stress is evident—on their faces, in their voices. It’s just all encompassing.

I work on Wall Street. Last month, I had my first encounter to potential bomb threat in New York. I’ll save you the anticipation—it turned out not to be a bomb. (Here’s the clearance story.) Aside: the best thing about this is that the NYPD revealed on Twitter that there was a bomb investigation—by using the bomb emoji. Cool. A few cops were standing guard, and I went up to see if I could gather any information. As I moved in closer, I heard, mid-conversation between the cop and an argumentative food-delivery worker, “You want to go try to disable what could potentially be an explosive?” I headed uptown and walked away from that situation quickly, shaken. That day, my coworker told me the story of 9/11. She was there that day, and she saw everything. And I think I’ve been through rough patches in New York? If you could have her tell you the story, you’d understand.

You haven’t lived in New York until you’ve been laid off from at least one job. That was a rough couple of weeks.

You haven’t lived in New York until you’ve seen some type of natural disaster. In my case, it was a fire. Last night, on March 29, 2016, the sky lit up in flames—just across the street from where I live. Around 10:30 p.m., a fire broke out in Bushwick, 3 doors down and across the street. It was the biggest, most frightening fire I’ve ever seen. There were 5 buildings in total that were damaged by it. Firefighters began spraying soon after it broke out and sprayed until the early hours of the morning. The buildings were still smoking this morning. Firemen and police were standing guard, removing debris from the decrepit apartments. The building that caught fire was a local karate shop. Every time you would pass it on the street, you would see, hear, and feel the strong sense of community. It’s a shame that it’s gone. Many families and children will no longer have this special place to practice their sport or spend time with one another.

All of this said, here’s what I’ll leave you with: Do I regret moving here? No, because New York is where I met the love of my life. It’s where I got an amazing job out of college. It’s where I found the beauty in history and film and music. It’s made me who I am, but it wasn’t all sunshine and roses.

Because when you “do New York,” you’ve got to take it with the good, the bad, and the ugly.