I’ve been spending a lot of time on Manhattan’s Upper West Side lately. The UWS is one of the richer neigh­bor­hoods in the city, and you can tell. It’s apparent in every­thing from the stately building facades to the ridicu­lous markups on pur­chases (an apple in my neigh­bor­hood costs $0.50. I bought one from a green­grocer around 84th and Ams­terdam for $1.19). Cen­tral Park dwarfs Prospect Park, and you can see the atten­tion (and budget) brought to bear on its upkeep. The UWS is safer, cleaner, nicer than Flat­bush in almost every way.

That’s money. Watching its power at work never ceases to amaze me.

But the one way in which you can really observe the UWS’ wealth is in its res­i­dents. Don’t get me wrong, there are plenty of working people living here. People room together in small apart­ments. Some folks moved here when the neigh­bor­hood was still up-and-coming and either own at cheap mort­gages or pay rent-control rates they locked into in years past. Some people get lucky and find “deals” (by New York City stan­dards. By every other place on earth, these “low” rents are INSANELY high).

But remember, I’m a day person now. I am on the street when working people are at the office. When I’m heading to the coffee shop or the library to write, or to the park to run, I’m mostly seeing the *super* rich,  folks so wealthy that their office days are behind them. There are excep­tions, of course, but folks on the UWS (at least those rich enough to be day people like me) are amazing looking. They are, almost to an indi­vidual, incred­ibly fit. Their hair is gor­geous, their clothing fash­ion­able. They lounge in the park or browse the shops at a leisurely pace, walking pure­bred dogs or grab­bing a late brunch. They are, quite lit­er­ally, beau­tiful people.

I’m real­izing their money has pur­chased them some­thing more than the upscale address. It’s bought this incred­ible leisure. Because staying in shape, taking the morning to stay on top of fashion, vis­iting a salon that will work on your hairdo for 2 hours, owning 3 beau­tiful dogs that you have to walk every day (if you don’t hire a dog-walker) … all those things require another commodity.

Thinking about it, I was briefly swamped by irony. I quit my full time job to free myself to to write. I’ve been kissing the poverty line ever since.

But my poverty and their wealth has pur­chased the same thing.

Time.