I Just Might Be a Bit of a New York Snob (written 1/1/05)
I’m losing the long-time battle to prove I’m low maintenance; I blame it on New York. The thing about New Yorkers is we’re completely spoiled rotten, and we’re damn proud of it. We even gloat about it, displaying our many conveniences and expectations as some sort of badge of honor while sneering down our noses at the lack of 24 hour options and copious wireless connectivity elsewhere. Of course, others laugh at us for being idiotic enough to pay the exorbitant rents we do, so I suppose it’s a bit of a trade off. I’m sitting in a Starbucks right now, as it’s the only thing open in this small southern town that seems to believe that New Year’s Day is a holiday so absolutely nothing should be open, and they don’t even have wi-fi! That’s just unfathomable to the petulant child New Yorker in me. They also have only 2 Starbucks in the whole town, which while equally unfathomable is also kind of refreshing so I’m not complaining.
Last night I rode in a car for a whopping distance of 5 blocks; I feel like a traitor of sorts, and I just may get my New Yorker status revoked if anyone reads this. I was coerced- there was a gun to my head and a house on fire with a burning baby to rescue and some quadriplegics who couldn’t navigate the stairs and lots of little old ladies and stuff! I swear! And kittens and puppies held hostage- really fucking adorable kittens and puppies at that! Yeah, that’s the ticket.
I also wear my pedestrian status as a badge of honor; these boots were made for walking, even if the heels are ridiculously high. You’d think I might enjoy the luxury of being chauffeured, but alas this just isn’t the case. Maybe I have a secret fear that I’ll like it and won’t want to walk anymore, or worse yet, that I’ll enjoy not getting soaked in the rain. What ever would I do if my calloused feet were allowed to rest or the blisters to heal? How would I survive?
But the absolute worst offense by far is that people are not constantly in a frantic hurried frenzy, plowing you down on the sidewalk and scowling at you for a moment of indecisiveness in line. They actually take their time choosing what they want, asking you how you are, and interacting with the world around them. While this may indeed make sense as a way to enjoy life, it’s freakin’ annoying!! Can’t you people see that I’m in a desperate hurry, despite having absolutely nothing to do for the next few hours? I have some very important lightening speed walking in the rain to do to maintain my callouses! I’m in search of wi-fi at 4am! Ahhhh! I think I knocked over a few little old ladies in my mad dash through the 1000 square foot airport, despite the fact that my flight was early. Of course the upswing is that I’m not thoroughly exhausted, and need far less caffeine to even step outside the door.
You’d think I’d enjoy a return to a slower pace, having grown up in the south. But as my old childhood friend J reminded me (while I was in the process of dragging her top speed through heavy NY pedestrian traffic, weaving and all), I’ve always been operating at a faster pace, its just that now I’m not a freak for doing so. Except when I cross that Mason Dixon line and become some cartoon character with my red faced head emitting steam and disconnecting from my shoulders from the pressure.
I’m not really a New york Snob, I just blog like one online.
Last night I rode in a car for a whopping distance of 5 blocks; I feel like a traitor of sorts, and I just may get my New Yorker status revoked if anyone reads this. I was coerced- there was a gun to my head and a house on fire with a burning baby to rescue and some quadriplegics who couldn’t navigate the stairs and lots of little old ladies and stuff! I swear! And kittens and puppies held hostage- really fucking adorable kittens and puppies at that! Yeah, that’s the ticket.
I also wear my pedestrian status as a badge of honor; these boots were made for walking, even if the heels are ridiculously high. You’d think I might enjoy the luxury of being chauffeured, but alas this just isn’t the case. Maybe I have a secret fear that I’ll like it and won’t want to walk anymore, or worse yet, that I’ll enjoy not getting soaked in the rain. What ever would I do if my calloused feet were allowed to rest or the blisters to heal? How would I survive?
But the absolute worst offense by far is that people are not constantly in a frantic hurried frenzy, plowing you down on the sidewalk and scowling at you for a moment of indecisiveness in line. They actually take their time choosing what they want, asking you how you are, and interacting with the world around them. While this may indeed make sense as a way to enjoy life, it’s freakin’ annoying!! Can’t you people see that I’m in a desperate hurry, despite having absolutely nothing to do for the next few hours? I have some very important lightening speed walking in the rain to do to maintain my callouses! I’m in search of wi-fi at 4am! Ahhhh! I think I knocked over a few little old ladies in my mad dash through the 1000 square foot airport, despite the fact that my flight was early. Of course the upswing is that I’m not thoroughly exhausted, and need far less caffeine to even step outside the door.
You’d think I’d enjoy a return to a slower pace, having grown up in the south. But as my old childhood friend J reminded me (while I was in the process of dragging her top speed through heavy NY pedestrian traffic, weaving and all), I’ve always been operating at a faster pace, its just that now I’m not a freak for doing so. Except when I cross that Mason Dixon line and become some cartoon character with my red faced head emitting steam and disconnecting from my shoulders from the pressure.
I’m not really a New york Snob, I just blog like one online.
posted by Le Synge Bleu at 1:34 PM
2 Comments:
I hate to tell you, but having been a former New Yawker myself, I don't find New York to be really be very convenient. Try lugging a giant bag of kitty litter down the street in your little wire cart....or trying to fit a plastic storage bin in a cab. Oh, and I always loved the hour long subway ride to David's apartment...which was probably less than 10 miles away from ours. It's convenient in some ways....24 hour delis down the block. Marc and I liked our 2AM roast beef sandwiches. But in other ways, nothing quite beats the convenience of the suburbs.
Oh Vixanne, you had an elevator! I have to lug the kitty litter up 5 flights, not to mention my laundry hell (I bet you had laundry in your building didn't you?). It only takes me 30-40 minutes to get to d's apt, so I guess I can't complain there. It does suck that I move here after you moved away, but at least we get to live vicariously through eachother...since god knows I will most likely never have stability or balance!
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