^^ The face I have on basically all the time in New York. ^^
There are things about New York that I absolutely love — getting to walk everywhere, the bagel quality, the skyline — and there are many things as a Californian that completely baffle me. This post is obviously about the latter of these two emotions.
Last Friday was my first weekend on my own. I had no plans in sight, besides carrying a couch up two flights of stairs on my own. Damn you FedEx man. As a treat to surviving the week, I thought yes, I will visit that cheese shop next door and get the world’s fanciest grilled cheese with the world’s fanciest bacon and maybe an ice tea! Except as always, no one brews ice tea because that’s considered weird.
But the problem about being on your own in a new city is you have no one to come home to and share my silly, odd New York musings. For instance, what is with all these cheese shops? Who is eating all this fancy cheese? Where are all the greasy, dollar grilled cheese that are as tasty as they are likely to give you food poisoning? And what animals we must be in Los Angeles that we do not have cheese shops on every corner!
Why will it always be funny when I forget to move my metro card and have to hike my sleeping bag of a snow jacket all the way up around my armpits to fish it out of my jean pocket? Will In-n-Out or ripe avocados ever exist on this side of the country? Because I think the introduction of both, plus a little unsweetened ice tea (Yeah, I’m still on this campaign!) would do a world for morale around these parts?
During my short time here, when did my body naturally start walking faster and why am I suddenly annoyed with tourists trying to a take a photo with their loved ones? I’m not even from here, I shouldn’t be annoyed! I imagine the trade I’ve made between losing personal space and losing gridlock traffic will never go unnoticed, although I still don’t appreciate being both the little and big spoon in a subway sandwich.
The stairs continue to baffle me as they must have been made for elves back in the day, and the weather forecast is actually 100 percent correct. When it’s going to rain, it’s going to rain, whether you and your steamed up glasses like it or not. Grocery stores are unable to sell alcohol which seems contrary to everything I ever learned about New York. And liquor stores rarely have beer.
Where is all the beer?!
To add to that search, Mexican food and pho, where you at? I’m sorry, somewhere in installing a thousand and twelve bodegas, no one thought, hey, lets put an enchilada house up in here. Also bodegas, lets call it for what it is: A grocery store/deli that will never share its bathroom with you no matter how you pitifully you beg.
Too good for eye contact everyone? There is no way anyone is going to make eye contact with you on the subway, which is unfortunate since I’m one of those odd ducks who naturally wants to check out your soul through your cornea.
And finally, the tights-snow jacket situation. There was a moment yesterday moment, when I went to stand up after my 20 minute subway ride and realized my tights were falling down. Probably nothing more terrifying than that. Would they hit my ankles before I made it to my front door? Luckily it all turned out well but it was not looking pretty for a while.
Welcome to my mind dear reader, you’re welcome.