My latest pet peeve is THIS.
Every time someone living outside the city attempts to ‘minimize’ what it’s like living in New York City, something dies in my soul!
“Oh, it’s not thaaaaat expensive…”
“it can’t be thaaaaat busy…”
It’s the emotional rage equivalent of telling a person who works out hours every single day, and limiting it to the fact that they must just have really good genes! When they go on to explain how hard they work – the laziness they push past, the determination they have to possess, the self control that it demands – the response again is, “nah, that cant be it… you must just have good genes!”
For the record, I don’t have good genes. And living in the city DOES NOT come natural to me.
And I can’t help but think, that when I am searching the city over, and aggravated to the point that I am yelling in pig-latin in the bulk spice aisle of the grocery store because I can’t find nutmeg for under $6.99, or the cheapest loaf of white bread I can find is on sale for $4 and went bad YESTERDAY! That you are right… I must just be making this ISH up! $$$$$$$$$
That when I pack into a subway car that has you crammed like sardines, and I find myself apologizing to my daughter for all the miscellaneous crotches in her face, or stand in the check out line at Trader Joes that literally wraps around the store, TWICE! That it’s true, its not thaaaaat busy… compared to Black Friday!
So for all those, whose opinions are flooding me like a southern downpour, the truth of the matter is, you think you know, but you have no idea!
Is it just me, or have I gotten feistier over the course of the last 8 months? 🙂
You see, living in Manhattan is hard to describe…
At the exact same place outside your apartment that you saw Tom Selleck 30 minutes prior, now lies a man passed out drunk infront of your building, making it so you can’t leave your apartment until a ‘Good Samaritan’ walking along the street literally picks him up by his coat, and tosses him to the side so you can get through the door.
Our children’s pediatrician is on Park Avenue, we take morning strolls through central park, with each step, listening to the Kings of Leon rehearse their songs for a benefit concert somewhere in the park, and have seen both the President and the Rockafeller christmas tree being police excorted outside our apartment building (one being more exciting than the other depending on your political stance!)
And yet, we take public transportation to go trick or treating, have bruises up and down our left leg thanks to carrying our kid in their stroller down the subway steps, and are forced to store our summer clothes under our beds during the winter due to lack of space. Seriously, if I only had ONE more closet…
We get yelled at every time we put out basket of groceries on the conveyor belt at the store (for reasons we aren’t quite sure), and are tainted enough to believe that the only plausible explanation for someone being nice to you is that they have every intention of mugging you.
We live and breathe by the saying “You are only in trouble, if you get caught”, rarely make eye contact, and know the homeless people in our area more than our neighbors (and if you are like my family, you nickname them!)
There’s ‘The Spitter’ who for whatever reason spits sporadically (you can hear her before you see her), “Two-face” who sweetly asks for spare change- puppy dog eyes and all – but then curses your existence as you walk by, calling you the likes of ‘ungrateful’, and ‘selfish’ with a few f -bombs tossed in there for emphasis.
Then there is the man that sits on the corner of the street outside our apartment – rain or shine – in a wheelchair and NEVER asks for money. Who we later came to find out isn’t homeless at all! He actually works for the paparazzi, and like clock work, sits outside the restaurant below our apartment, watching for celebrities going in and out. Who, now that I think about it, probably doesn’t even really need a wheelchair!
New Yorkers also eat out a TON – 58% of them eat out AT LEAST once a day! (And it’s likely that we know lots more random statistics just like that!) We also have lofty ‘food goals’, like to try a cronut (the croissant- doughnut hybrid that has taken the city by storm!) or to ‘taste’ every country in South America, just because we can!
And given the dire situation that you ever find yourself needing to impress a New Yorker, it’s as simple as making something- ANYTHING – homemade! Seriously, it BLOWS. THEIR. MIND. every time!
Our bible studies have people skyping in from around the country (one even in Afghanistan!), our playdates go down at playgrounds not in homes, and interestingly enough, I’m in a car so little, that I actually get car sick every time I am in a taxi.
And sure, I could trade my NYC life, for granite countertops, and a walk-in closet elsewhere. I could have impeccable customer service, and cheaper produce at my fingertips… but even then, the cost would be far too great!
Because I’d be trading my new-found courageousness for comfort, and my city experiences for mere suburban luxuries.
So I have decided…
Suburbia, you can keep your fancy cars, your garbage disposals, and the expectation to have an even number of kids,
because although living in the city is mind-boggling expensive, swamped with people, and stretching me thin to the point I am nearly translucent,
Even still, I want to be a New Yorker!
For today, at least 🙂