Things I've Learned/Noticed In NYC
The Nutcracker -- You try your best to spread yourself out on a subway chair so that there is as little gap between you and people sitting next to you as possible. However, you are never safe from the Nutcracker. Just as a shark is able to hone in on the scent of blood from miles away in the murky depth of the ocean, the Nutcracker, usually an enormously rotund middle-aged woman, can spot any vacuum in the time-space continuum. As she attempts to insert herself between you and the person that used to be seated next to you (but will soon seem like he/she's miles away), you feel as if an airbag has just been inflated next to you while her fat ass slowly expands to its grotesquely large original shape. You can feel your organs rub against each other. A numbness slowly begins to envelope your lower extremities. After you get off the train, you wonder if your "equipment" has suffered permanent damages and if you will ever be able to have children.
The Subway Mojo -- Some people, including yours truly, can stand anywhere along a subway stop so that when an incoming train stops, we are right in front of an entrance nine times out of ten. While this uncanny gift is a true blessing, it is capricious in that it can desert the blessed at any time and then later return unannounced, like that time I went to visit Jason in DC. The subway door did NOT stop in front of me 90% of the time! When I finally returned from that cursed place, I almost wept with joy to discover that my mojo had returned. Of course, the temporary disappearance of my subway mojo had nothing to do with the fact that the DC trains have longer cars and fewer entrances.
The Elevator Shuffle -- You stand waiting in front of 6 elevators. The farthest one opens up. You walk toward it with just enough speed to catch it before the door closes, but you are slow enough to catch any other elevator on the way should it become available so you don't have to walk that extra 2 feet.
The FMT (Fucking Midwestern Tourists) -- You get off the 6/J train at Canal St. happily on your way to meet your buddy for a chow down at that cheap but good Chinese restaurant when your path is suddenly blocked by a roving band of the whitest people you have ever seen since your last time back to MN to visit your parents. Each FMT clan is usually composed of screaming little brats, I'm-too-cool teenagers decked out in Abercrombie & Fitch, and nervous parents who cannot possibly look more touristy even WITHOUT their FDNY caps and shirts. These people are even worse than the busloads of FATs (Fucking Asian Tourists) that descend upon the Stanford campus every day because at Stanford I could at least bike around the FATs since there is so much space (God I miss all that open space) whereas I have no such option on the narrow and crowded streets of Chinatown.
The Uppity Doorman -- When I was browsing online NYC apartment ads back in California, I was mystified to see "doorman building" posts. I didn't know what a doorman was until I moved here. Basically, a doorman is a middle-aged gatekeeper/receptionist. The swankier the apartment, the more attitude the doorman has, despite of the fact that his most important responsibilities are 1.) standing behind a desk; 2.) opening the door for guests; and 3.) receiving packages for building residents.
I will put up more definitions/rants later.
The Nutcracker -- You try your best to spread yourself out on a subway chair so that there is as little gap between you and people sitting next to you as possible. However, you are never safe from the Nutcracker. Just as a shark is able to hone in on the scent of blood from miles away in the murky depth of the ocean, the Nutcracker, usually an enormously rotund middle-aged woman, can spot any vacuum in the time-space continuum. As she attempts to insert herself between you and the person that used to be seated next to you (but will soon seem like he/she's miles away), you feel as if an airbag has just been inflated next to you while her fat ass slowly expands to its grotesquely large original shape. You can feel your organs rub against each other. A numbness slowly begins to envelope your lower extremities. After you get off the train, you wonder if your "equipment" has suffered permanent damages and if you will ever be able to have children.
The Subway Mojo -- Some people, including yours truly, can stand anywhere along a subway stop so that when an incoming train stops, we are right in front of an entrance nine times out of ten. While this uncanny gift is a true blessing, it is capricious in that it can desert the blessed at any time and then later return unannounced, like that time I went to visit Jason in DC. The subway door did NOT stop in front of me 90% of the time! When I finally returned from that cursed place, I almost wept with joy to discover that my mojo had returned. Of course, the temporary disappearance of my subway mojo had nothing to do with the fact that the DC trains have longer cars and fewer entrances.
The Elevator Shuffle -- You stand waiting in front of 6 elevators. The farthest one opens up. You walk toward it with just enough speed to catch it before the door closes, but you are slow enough to catch any other elevator on the way should it become available so you don't have to walk that extra 2 feet.
The FMT (Fucking Midwestern Tourists) -- You get off the 6/J train at Canal St. happily on your way to meet your buddy for a chow down at that cheap but good Chinese restaurant when your path is suddenly blocked by a roving band of the whitest people you have ever seen since your last time back to MN to visit your parents. Each FMT clan is usually composed of screaming little brats, I'm-too-cool teenagers decked out in Abercrombie & Fitch, and nervous parents who cannot possibly look more touristy even WITHOUT their FDNY caps and shirts. These people are even worse than the busloads of FATs (Fucking Asian Tourists) that descend upon the Stanford campus every day because at Stanford I could at least bike around the FATs since there is so much space (God I miss all that open space) whereas I have no such option on the narrow and crowded streets of Chinatown.
The Uppity Doorman -- When I was browsing online NYC apartment ads back in California, I was mystified to see "doorman building" posts. I didn't know what a doorman was until I moved here. Basically, a doorman is a middle-aged gatekeeper/receptionist. The swankier the apartment, the more attitude the doorman has, despite of the fact that his most important responsibilities are 1.) standing behind a desk; 2.) opening the door for guests; and 3.) receiving packages for building residents.
I will put up more definitions/rants later.
posted by Gary at
10:18 AM
<< Home