Jay & Bey Are Moving to LA, and I Feel Fine

Below are two things happening in New York City this week. I want you, fellow Gothamite, to tell me which seems more significant. Ready? Alright, here we go:

1) Snow & ice are causing sparks in subterranean power utilities, which are, themselves, causing explosions that are sending cast iron manhole covers saucering at pedestrians’ heads.

2) A middle-aged New York couple might be moving to Los Angeles with their young child.

Which seems more important to your life, New Yorker? Take your time; I’ll wait.

If you answered something along the lines of “Exploding manholes?! Because of snow & ice?! But that stuff is everywhere! Sweet Christ on a Cronut, we’re doomed!”, then congratulations: your priorities are very squarely in order. Call your mom, make peace with the deity of your choice, and die bravely, New Yorker. If, even for a fraction of a second, you deliberated over this quandary, you’re either a Jay Z apologist, a Beyonce superfan, or a delusional, star-humping combination of the two. Please find a particularly snowy manhole cover and stand on it, because New York is ashamed of you.

For those of you that don’t keep up with headlines, let’s back up a moment. TMZ reports that Jay & Bey are plotting a West Coast move after enrolling innocent child/shade of nail polish Blue Ivy in a Los Angeles private school there. In other words, the closest thing New York City has to royals-in-residence might be abandoning our beloved trash-cloister for the empty-headed expanse of our hated rival. Do we care? Should we? Must we?

No. NO. NO! Good riddance, says I. The King & Queen are mere humans, no matter how many incredibly catchy lyrics they’ve written that claim the contrary. If they want to buy some land beneath Southern California’s smog-wrapped sun, put in a breathtaking infinity pool, then put in a whole other infinity pool directly adjacent to it, just to be able to tell people that they have double infinity pools... go for it. That would be the best. Man, rich people are a treat. I wonder... wait, where was I? Oh, right:

None of that would change the fact that they’re still people, and there’s a time-honored tradition to uphold when people leave New York City. That tradition is: shun them. That’s right. It’s in the New York City Code of Civil Conduct, Section Whatever, Article Not Important.

Turn your backs on Jay Z & Beyonce, fair citizens, for they have turned their backs on us.

Way harsh, Tai. Right? Wrong. Apparently, Jay & Bey are “discreetly look[ing] at a number of homes” in Beverly Hills, where they spent this past summer in a quaint little rented love shack that set them back $200,000... a month. For that matter, Blue’s tuition costs around $15,000 a year, which is a good deal for a college student, but slightly less so for a three year-old, which is what she is. I promise, they'll be just fine without us. And we'll be just fine without them.

Do I begrudge Jay & Bey for all their many successes, and the fact that they’re probably taking them out of our happy little commune? Of course I do. I am a small, spiteful, dreadfully insecure creature. Resent is in my blood, along with a lot of cholesterol. I hate our current run of heinous weather as much as the next guy (though, unlike that guy, I refuse to whine about it). It disgusts me that if/when they leave, Taylor Swift kinda-sorta will be one of our most high profile pop-bassadors. T. Swift is terrific, but she’s entirely too Clean & upbeat to represent this grease trap to the world.

New York City was here before Jay & Bey, and it’ll be here after they leave.

But none of that really matters. All that matters is that when a New Yorker leaves the fold, we close ranks and carry on with our meager, double-infinity-pool-less lives as though nothing has changed, because nothing has changed. Let’s say Jay & Bey pack up and head for the hills where they filmed The Hills. The subways will still run, assuming Cuomo doesn’t politic them off the rails. The beer will still flow, albeit for a nonsensical amount of money. Your apartment will still be tiny, the restaurants will still be world-class, and the dudes on the corner of Broadway & Prince will still try to trick Austrian tourists into paying them money for burned CDs, even though it’s 2015 and Hans & Franz forgot their anti-skip Discmans in the last decade. No matter who bids us adieu, the city will still be here, because no one -- not even the man who made the Yankees hat more famous than a Yankee can, or his #FLAWLESS wife, or their toddler scion -- can out-New York New York itself.

Look, everyone leaves New York City someday. Well, unless you die here and become a ghost that saucers manhole covers at pedestrians’ heads, in which case, stop doing that -- it’s very scary. Hopefully, when you go, though, you have the good sense not to write about it, because Joan Didion already did that better than you (or I) ever could. The reason we weep not for the rumored exodus of our once-proud power couple is because it might imply, in some small way, that their destination will be better than New York City. And today, despite the muck & mire, the civil chaos & insanely expensive everything, and the cast iron Frisbees smashing people's skulls, there’s still nothing better than New York City.

Jay Z, Beyonce, Blue -- stay or go. It matters not. New York City was here before you, and it’ll be here after you leave. If you do leave us for Los Angeles, that sprawling, fleshy bimbo of a town with bad breath and worse food, we’ll still be here.

That said, if anyone reading this in LA has a double infinity pool, please contact me immediately. I’ll be on the next flight.

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Dave Infante is a senior writer for Thrillist Food & Drink, and isn't even from New Yoooooooooooooork. Follow @dinfontay on Twitter, Instagram, and Snapchat.