New Yorkers are resilient. They can put up with a lot of shit that normal people would say “Oh Hell No, Check Please.” We cram into dirty sardine cans daily to get to work secretly hoping that the person next to us doesn’t stink or fart. We live in small ass spaces and pay more money for this when it is the complete opposite of people in other parts of the world. We live in a place where we have people from so many different countries it is just the norm to see people dressed in their native attire or hear their accent or native tongue.
New Yorkers survived 9/11, Hurricane Sandy and we most certainly will survive this damn thing. But what is going on right now is really strange to people who don’t live here. Case in point this whole Social Distancing thing and that there is NOBODY outside. This is what is really strange to us who have gotten used to it.
Oh I guess when we survive this thing and Geranium and I don’t kill each other we can get our “New Yorker” pin. Maria I am looking to you for your ruling.
You know how I hate to use the terms “The New Normal”, “Un-Presented”, “UnCharted”, “Be Safe”, and “Be Well”? I would kill to get on the subway and give one of my “Are you Fucking Kidding Me?” looks!!!
Please note that I am trying to clean up my act because there is enough ugliness on Twitter right now. I mean would you have really clicked on this worthless dribble if the title were “You will probably get called an Asshole by a New Yorker if you do this.” Do you recall way back to the first Holiday Season when I posted about some ladies who stopped short in Times Square? Sadly I have turned into more of a bitter New Yorker and Marathon Sunday was the tipping point.
Marathon Sunday we were to venture up to Woodlawn in the Bronx for Wee Fi’s “Wizard of Oz” Seventh birthday. In order for us to get Metro North we have to get to Grand Central so we have to jump on a 4 Train at Nevins Station. Normally that isn’t a big deal but on this Sunday the 4 Train was packed tighter than a pair of pants at an all you can eat buffet. The train is full of Marathon Spectators who are in deep need of reading this list. Rather than have a full on Fucking-Come-Apart on a jackass who thinks that wearing a packed backpack doesn’t bother anyone else…..so I chose to come up with this list.
Below is the short list of suggestions that I would like to extend to anyone who is thinking of visiting New York. AKA – Don’t be this Asshole or you may get yelled at.
Walking on our City Streets, Subway Stairways, and Common Area Walkways – please remember these Two Fucking Rules; NEVER EVER stop in the middle of the above mentioned while in New York. I assure you will get run the hell over by a New Yorker who is walking at top speed. Second, and this goes without saying; LEAVE YOUR FUCKING PHONE IN YOUR POCKET! You don’t text and drive in your hometown, why do you you think you can text and walk up here? Too many people get yelled at on the streets for updating their Facebook updates. Step to the side if you have to text your cousin that you just saw someone famous.
While in cramped spaces (Subway, Elevator, walking into the Garden) take that backpack off of your back and just hold it in your hand. I promise that it may seem foreign reading this in Memphis or other parts of the US but it is a major No-No here in New York. Especially on the Subway! You will get yelled at.
While walking on our streets do us other people don’t walk side to side if you are a family of four. Want to really piss off some folks on the streets? Walk hand and hand. Oh and if you have strollers, you can only do that in Park Slope not in Manhattan during holiday season.
Asking Directions – Again this is going to seem foreign but try to know where you are going before you step out onto our streets. It isn’t so much about addresses it is the cross street and what direction is this sucker on the dividing line aka 5th Avenue. In other words know the lingo; East = East side of 5th Avenue. West = do we really have to do this? Uptown = North of 60th street. SoHo = South of Houston Street. Also Google Maps is your friend when trying to negotiate the subway. Trust me.
Be a Boy Scout – aka – be ready to act. This applies to when swiping your Metro Card at the Subway Turnstile. You don’t want to be digging in your pocket while at the turnstile. Ordering a bagel at a bodega….let me tell you that you will get a Soup Nazi comment from the deli worker or a “Can you hurry the Fuck up” from someone standing on line behind you.
Trust me when I say that It isn’t that New Yorkers are Rude, we are just in a Hurry. Hope that you had a good laugh and please don’t be “That Guy/Gal”!
Well friends and neighbors, it finally happened after living here on this island called Manhattan. If you took the under then congratulations as you are a winner on Powerball Saturday. I am not particularly proud of my actions and probably should be heading down to St. Patrick’s Cathedral to throw a couple bones into the offertory rather than entering this blog post. Let me first paint you picture of what happened after living here 5 months and 4 days.
Picture a jam packed and jelly tight 6 Train heading uptown to Pelham Bay Park, in the 5th subway car is yours truly. I am standing in the middle of the packed car minding my own business and trying not to think about the fact that I have to pee or the annoying guy with his ear buds so loud you can hear it in New Jersey. We arrive at the 68th Street Hunter College stop, I start my way to the exit of the car as people are moving in the direction to the open door. I am 5 feet from the exit when an older gentleman decides that he wants to secure a spot on the rail and reaches his arm up to hold the rail. The man is blocking my exit so I look at him and say “excuse me, I am trying to get off.” The gentleman doesn’t budge. I again say “excuse me sir, I am trying to get off” and dude doesn’t move or express any emotion. As I meander under his outstretched something like you see kids on the playground do during recess it happens. Forgive me Father for I have sinned. Ladies and Gentlemen Carbunkle Trumpet issued his first “Are you Fucking kidding me? What an Asshole!” while I am passing the guy. I am assuming with my accent and the fact that the now christened F-Tard was clearly in the wrong I get a couple laughs from the packed subway car. So there you have it. It took only 157 days for Carbunkle Trumpet to issue his first public F-Bomb! I guess the only thing left for me to do is now master how to order sushi and not look like an asshole.
Yep, you are number 1!
They say that New York is full of Freaks and Weird People. No wonder we love living up here so much! Sadly we are going to see Boo at Ginny’s Supper Club tomorrow so we won’t be able to go No Pants. The Carol let me know if you want to crash on our couch if you are going to come up here for it.
I have to admit, I am a huge fan of the public transportation here in NYC. Hell, any public transportation is better than what we came from in Crime-Free Memphis, TN. Not to knock my old hometown but they can’t even get the friggin trolleys back on Main Street and are passing off busses that are made to look like trolleys and they still don’t run on time. But I digress, no they don’t mess around here with the busses, subway or light rail in NYC. One of our deciding factors on moving up here was that we were going to sell the cars and use public transportation and that hasn’t bitten us in the ass yet. Parking for a car in our building is around 600.00 a month and that is rate reduction because of the hospital as I think the cost in Midtown or lower Manhattan goes in the 1K range. Then you tack on the taxes, vig, insurance, and all that other stuff and you have to scratch your head and wonder if having that car is really worth it. Sure you could park it on the street but then you have to mess with alternate parking for street cleaning and lets not forget the dinged up bumpers that you will have so what is one to do? Naturally it makes sense that you use public transportation up here as it costs $2.75 and if you get on the right express train, you are at your destination in no time.
Now with the good comes the bad in any story. So of the 8.5 million residents of New York you are bound to have a couple of well how do I put delicately…we will just call them “special”. These special people are those who you don’t make eye contact with, pretend that you are listening to your ear buds even though there isn’t any music playing and silently hope they go away. Now in New York’s defense, they have really cleaned up the subway problems from way back and things are much safer than they were pre Rudy days. Below are some of the ‘special’ people I have met this past month;
The “Excuse Me, I am homeless and need money” people – These are the ones who pop in your subway car and give you the sad excuse how they are broke, hungry, trying to get into the shelter, yada, yada, yada. Dude we all are one paycheck away from being homeless, take your ass somewhere else. If you really are that bad off I bet that there is someone in your life you could get help from. Unless you have burned those bridges already.
The “This is the dining car right” people – Thankfully I am not a germ freak but I do find myself using hand sanitizer a whole lot more after riding the subway. Yet there are those who will have a light snack and actually lick their fingers clean after sucking the bone marrow out of the chicken wing. In a word – NO
“I must not have a mirror in my apartment” people – Dude I don’t care what the latest boy band is wearing, don’t be wearing that out in public. Or my favorite is the females who must be feminists because they decide not to wear a bra and their nipples are dragging the ground. Holster those puppies up girls.
“Can I lay my head on your shoulder” sleepers – Sure you drank the bar dry of Bud Light and have 14 stops till you get home but that doesn’t mean I want you to spoon with your drunk ass.
And my favorite “It is 9AM on a Friday and I am heading to work in my suit and pounding a 24 ounce tall boy in the paper sack” guy – I saw that last week on the F train. Dude I want to party with you.
I have many questions but first “Where are your pants?”
I guess the previous owner got Jesus and was able to walk up out of that subway!
Incidentally I have pulled a bunch of these off the internet as I don’t have the balls to take some of these pictures. But again, where are your pants?
This will be a whole new topic that I can talk to my shrink about.
Hey Dude, The Grateful Dead called and they want their concert merch back.
He isn’t passed out, he is merely regrouping.
Hey look a white woman!
Oh hell No *putting on my backward Kangol Hat and channeling my inner Samuel L Jackson*
“There better not be no Mudda Fecking Snakes on My Mudda Fecking Subway Ride HOME!”