THE FINAL WORD

The Misadventures of GenX in 1990’s

By Sean-Patrick M. Hillman

Growing up in Manhattan in the 80’s and early 90’s was not the simplest thing in the world. As part of Generation X, or as we have been famously referred to as the “Why Bother Generation”, taking on the Big Apple as a kid and teenager was an adventure. Granted it was an adventure steeped in urban myth; crime and grime; and the rules of the street overrode everything. In other words, what you saw in the movies was actually true of New York in the 1980’s and 1990’s. And that was when New York was actually the stuff legend was made of. Today? Not even close.

Yes, I had a misspent youth. No, it was not my parents’ fault (as Millennials and GenZ typically blame the parental units for their self-inflicted woes). In fact, I purposefully went out of my way to experience everything that was on the “wrong side of the tracks,” so to speak. As an example, I started hanging out at nightclubs long before I was even 15.

A NIGHT TO REMEMBER
At that time, I was also a regular fixture at many an Irish pub on Manhattan’s Upper East and Upper West sides. Then again, with a first name like Sean-Patrick, the latter should come as no surprise. Back then, the police were more concerned with actual crime and grime while venue owners were more concerned with revenue and maintaining their street credentials. Those underage kids, such as I, knew how to conduct themselves so that they didn’t stand out in a sea of adults. In other words, we looked and acted like we belonged. Today’s generation, and the prior one, failed to learn how to do this on every level.

I remember one night in particular that will help illustrate my point. It was a Saturday night in May of 1992. I was a sophomore in high school. I had been spending a decent amount of time at McGlade’s on Columbus Avenue and 85th street as well as at McSherry’s on Third Avenue and 76th street. But McSherry’s started a karaoke night that a handful of my fellow teens of debauchery loved, especially my friend Debbie. She and I used to get up on the stage in the corner of this little Irish pub and belt out tune after tune. Debbie was one of my dearest friends at that time. And we are still friends to this day!  

Believe it or not, that night in May, something incredible happened. For the first time in years, my entire being, my heart and soul, had felt complete. It was as if the weight of the world had been on my shoulders and suddenly lifted. It was the perfect night for a 15-year-old who was going on 45.  

A TOP GUN MOMENT
Debbie and I had a habit of joking with each other, and playing pranks, often steeped in pop culture.

So, with Top Gun as one of my all-time favorite movies (you see where this is going), I grabbed a friend and we started singing “You’ve Lost That Loving Feeling” to Debbie, unbeknownst to her until I was right next to her singing. sThen she hopped on another mic and joined us! Next thing we know, people out on the street start screaming and singing along. It literally felt like we were in a movie. And that is what almost every night out felt like back then.It was about the night. It was about the street. It was about us and the city.

Today? It’s about the city against us. And I have had more fun having a root canal. It is hard to believe this is the New York City I was born and raised in. Sadly, today’s nightlife generation have been pasteurized, homogenized and purified to death. Their idea of a night of debauchery might as well include a trip to a church (and no, I am not talking about the nightclub I used to work the door at when my nickname was “The Kid”) for the Body and Blood of Christ (remember I am a Catholic after all). Then again, I think this generation might be offended if they did end up in a church! Everything that was fun back then has been sanitized to the point of where it just doesn’t have the same energy, excitement and result in the same level of stories we all used to recount for our nights out.

THE FINAL WORD
The New York of my youth will never be again. That was what the real New York is; gritty, fun, dangerous but unforgettable. This plasticized, nonsensical and very corrupt “Nanny State” that Bloomberg, DeBlasio and Adams have turned it into is just not cool, or kosher for that matter.