Well,
I think I can finally shout “hallelujah!” My trip is almost over as I sit at
35,000 feet about sea level somewhere in the clouds above Denver. New York really was nothing like what I
thought it would be. My concept of NY was that people were going to be a
little bit more like Californians. I really have only traveled though the
southern states and a fair amount of South America. Now that my first trip to
the east coast has come to an end, it is time to reflect.
People
are absolutely nuts in New York. Absolutely berserks. They will walk through you as if you
never were there. They put their cold-blooded and impassive faces on and walk.
Correction--I mean sprint. Their walking pace is faster than most kids could
run the mile at my college. They will walk in front of any semi, bus, fire
truck, taxi, bicyclist, or elderly woman in order to shave a second off of
their ETA. New Yorkers are a different breed.
I
walked in to a Brooklyn bagel shop the other day and ordered a simple egg and
ham bagel sandwich. I also asked for a medium coffee, no sugar, room for cream.
Simple. NO. The man behind the exotic cream cheese case started talking to me
at approximately the speed of light. I understood zero words that this man
vomited up to me. I stood there completely dumbfounded. I just said “huh?” with
a stupid look on my face. My mouth was probably open with a little bit of drool
coming out. I ended up with a bagel without ham and with salt and pepper
instead. I also received no medium coffee. Whoops.
My
morning continued as I moved on from Bergen Bagels in Brooklyn to my itinerary
in Manhattan. This requires taking the subway of course. In my short visit to
New York, I managed to collect knowledge about the subway system. I knew it well
enough that I wouldn’t manage to take large detours without knowing it. I
quickly got used to the harsh acceleration and braking as if there were a
fifteen-year-old pimply-faced teenage, soon-to-be-legal, driver at the helm. I
kind of got used to the mind-numbing and ear-shattering screeches emanating
deep from within the tunnels when a train goes around a bend. I also managed to
get used to the odd smells that always seemed to be down in those subway
stations. The bit that was hardest to get a grip on was understanding what the
subway conductor was announcing over the intercom system. I swear they were purposefully just mumbling. How is anyone supposed to know where they are if the conductor is mumbling? These mumbles led to my ultimate demise more than once.
Miraculously, I managed to get through
all of NY without ever sitting in a taxi. I am somewhat disappointed in that. I
wanted to at least have the thrill of it maybe being on Cash Cab! Alas, I have no
chance if I don’t even hale a taxi. Side note: Watching people hale taxis is
something that I could spend a large amount of my time doing. Watching someone hale a taxi and the taxi either: a) pays no
attention to them, b) stops, then doesn’t like what their destination is and drives away, or
c) picks them up and every car behind them for the next three blocks lays on
their horn because they are losing precious daylight due to this inconvenience.
Now, for the juicy car bits of New
York. If you are one who likes the oh-so-classy Mercedes S-class, this is the
place for you. There is an S550 on nearly every corner in Manhattan. If there
isn’t an S-class, there certainly will be a 7 series BMW. Money is the culture
in New York. Almost all of the diplomatic cars in New York are big German V8s. These deep V8 bellows make for a very harmonious environment. However, this is only true if you can manage to drown
out the sirens, screams, honks, yells, and all of the other racket. I saw quite a few Porsche Panameras,
Porsche Cayennes, Porsche Carreras, one Rolls, and one Bentley. For the most
part, I don’t think people want to drive around their nice cars in the city,
mostly for the fear or dents and dings. They reservedly own their SUVs in order
to go out the Hamptons on the weekends, I think.
Words cannot explain how happy I am
to finally be getting back to my car after the long two weeks. I am going to
try and explain anyway. I am more excited than a baboon with a bug-ridden
partner. I am more excited than a thirteen-year-old Jewish boy on his bar
mitzvah. I am more excited than Tom Cruise on Oprah’s bouncy couch. I look more
excited than a small child clutching his privates because he has to pee and is
running around the house like a chicken with its head cut off. Yes, I am that
excited. It will be nice to finally be driving through those windy mountain
roads. I will heed caution this evening however. It was -3 degrees Fahrenheit
last night. The ground will have copious amount of black ice.
I wish you all a very merry
Christmas! Now, I am going to go enjoy some of this beautiful white powder that was bestowed upon me in the darkness of last night! Auf Wiedersehen!