Really? Are ya kiddin’ me?

New York City is my home town.

Native New Yorkers (and those nearly native because they’ve lived here so long) abide by some neighborly rules.  For example:

  • Help tourists with directions.
  • Ask a blind person if he or she would like assistance (but never ask if he or she “needs” assistance).
  • Look the other way when your neighbor is sneaking a cigarette around the corner.
  • Always go to the green grocer on your own block because that is the store that stays open and keeps the neighborhood buzzing and safe at late hours.

New York City is ruined by those who come here thinking that New York is so anonymous that they can give way to their worst or selfish impulses with impunity.

Yep, you guessed it.  I had a run-in or two today.

Some guy sees me waiting for a hypothetical cab that might be free at 6:20pm on a weekday in midtown [hint: chances are better that you won the mega-millions lottery].  I know he sees me.  We make eye contact.

What does he do?  He walks down the block to try beat me out of the still hypothetical, available cab.  Since he is being rude with me, he goes for double and cuts another woman.  The woman then walks further down the block to cut him.  As you can probably tell, in order to get to win this way, one has to be moving further in the exact opposite direction of one’s intended destination.  We are on Sixth Avenue (or the “Avenue of the Americas” to those who arrived in the Big Apple after 1970) which goes north.  These two people are walking further south to get a cab ahead of each other.

I have my righteous indignation going.  Not at the woman; she did not see me.  The guy is the target of my wrath.

Of course, I have to walk a block out of my way (the man and woman were leap-frogging each other for the still hypothetical, available cab).

I catch up to the guy and call him out on his behavior.

He responds in a are-you-for-real look, “it’s New York” with a twang in his accent and a “f”-you shrug.

He did whaaaaaaat? He told ME, ME, a New Yorker for 46 years, what IS and IS NOT New York?  Is he kidding me?

Ok, I lose it.

I say, “Don’t you tell me about the rules of this town. I was born here. Did you ever hear of manners?”  (Actually, the “did you” came out like “didja” and the “ever” came out like “eveh”.  When I am angry, I lose “oo”s and my “r”s.)

The guy shows me the universal hand signal for displeasure.

**************************************************************************************************************

So, next I go down to the hotter-than-hell subway station, where everyone is letting loose.

And it doesn’t stop even when we are packed on the subway like sardines.

A woman with FABULOUS hair is flipping it all over everyone and my scalp immediately starts to itch from the contact.  No, no lice, but, hey, you never know.

There is a woman who looks TWELVE MONTHS pregnant standing while young people are sitting.

There is the guy who sits “wide” and takes up one and one-half seats and is also hunched forward so that he takes up the standing space in front of him.

A woman is screaming that some man is sweating in her personal space.

I turn to the incredibly pregnant woman and ask in an ordinary subway voice (i.e., yelling) if she would like me to find a seat for her.  She says she is ok in a way that suggests “I can take care of myself and who are you?” but she decides I mean well and smiles.

Someone gets up to get off at the next stop and then people insist that the pregnant woman sit down.

It was just the neighborly thing to do.