Every Positive Change That Will Happen in My Life by the Time the L Train Shuts Down

Whenever the L train finally shuts down, it won’t even be an issue for me, because I’ll have overhauled my life and will no longer need it. Here’s what will happen in the interim:

I will get a raise and move to Manhattan.

I will re-watch “Sex and the City” seven or eight times to psych myself up for my Manhattan-centric existence.

I will stop dating Bushwick hipsters and start dating Wall Street douchebags. This will be a positive change because I will “fix” all of them.

I will no longer perform standup comedy in dimly lit Williamsburg bars. Instead, I’ll perform exclusively at the Comedy Cellar, which will be walking distance from my house.

All my friends who currently live in Brooklyn will also become rich and move to Manhattan, so I’ll still be able to hang out with them. They will be rich, but not as rich as me, and I will see them, but not as often as I do now, because I’ll also have cool new Manhattan friends.

This will not happen to Katie. She told me I wasn’t responsible enough to adopt a plant, so she deserves to be in her Bed-Stuy walkup with five roommates forever.

A Whole Foods 365 will open in Manhattan. I won’t need it, of course, because I’ll be shopping at regular Whole Foods, but my friends might.

I will singlehandedly bring the edgy hipster scene back to Manhattan. No longer will Videology be considered a cool hang. The coolest hang of all will be waiting in line for three hours to ice-skate at Bryant Park for free (plus twenty-dollar skate rental), because I’m there.

I will have unlimited Uber credit, so that anytime I do need to get to Brooklyn, I won’t have to take the [shudder] J train.

I will get a car. Actually, first I’ll learn how to drive and get a license.

All of the trains in Manhattan will run on time. In fact, I’m certain that they already do. My current impression of Manhattan is that everything works perfectly and the dogs don’t shit, and, if this isn’t accurate, it will be by the time I get there.

My aunt who lives in Canarsie will die. O.K., that sounds mean, but she’s in a lot of pain right now! Plus, I hate visiting her.

People will stop talking about how cool Brooklyn is and start talking exclusively about how cool I am.

I will get married and have children, and my children will never ask about a faraway land called Brooklyn. They will be completely content in Manhattan because I will be a perfect mother to them, and Timothée Chalamet will be a perfect father.

I will win the Nobel Peace Prize for resolving the great Manhattan-Brooklyn conflict. I will do such a wonderful job that the Nobel committee will ask me to take a stab at Israel-Palestine, too. I will also be successful at bringing about peace in the Middle East. You’re welcome.

The government will create a free helicopter service between Manhattan and Brooklyn in the unlikely event that I need to go to Oxomoco for lunch.

Robots will replace the subway.

There will be an apocalyptic event (but not a deadly one, except maybe for Katie’s plants) that will render Manhattan its own country, so going to Brooklyn will require a passport and no one will ever bother.

I will move to Los Angeles.