When New York Is A Dick

by Jen on June 2, 2012

You may have already heard, but I heart New York.

Heart it.  Just like the t-shirt boasts.

But sometimes, this place…  Sometiiiiiimes, it’s a complete and total dick.

There are days I feel I’ve signed up for boot camp.  Like I voluntarily sacrificed my soul to belligerent drill sergeants, sub-human environmental conditions, and a once in a lifetime, impossible to explain, sociology experiment to rival most any form of masochism.

Here is an example of a boot camp moment:

I walk six blocks in the pouring rain, dodging umbrellas and dog shit, and  bicycle delivery guys.  My toes are already pinched in the dressiest flats I own and my work day is yet to begin.  When I arrive at the bus stop, there are already 50 people waiting.  I wait 9 minutes.  The bus arrives.  I try to pile on, trampled by passengers far more determined than I.  Checking my watch, I concede and decide to wait for the next one.

I wait 15 more minutes.  In the pouring rain.

The next bus slows to a halt.  I use a more aggressive approach and cram into the humid vessel, like a sardine.  A hot, sweaty, impatient sardine.

A woman (clearly believing she owns the bus) elbows me and tells me to get off of her.  With nowhere to move, I’m pinned staring back at her.  She calls me a bitch under her breath and then turns her anger towards other impossibly trapped passengers.  This sort of exchange no longer hurts my feelings.  It happens all too often for that.

A twenty-something girl on the bus is having a phone conversation with her mother.  While she’s not being loud, we can all certainly hear her.  This is not abnormal.  She’s not harming a soul.  Annoying to some maybe, but all in all, harmless.  A middle-aged woman on my left glares at her.

“You should be ashamed of yourself!  Is nothing private in your life?!?!?”

The twenty-something, not realizing the middle-ager is talking to her, continues talking to her mother about her ailing grandparent.

“Jesus Christ.  You are UNBELIEVABLE!”

The twenty-something looks up, “Oh, are you talking to me?” she asks.

“OF COURSE I’m talking to you!  Do you hear anyone ELSE on the bus sharing every detail of their life with a group of strangers?!?!?!?  Next thing we know you are going to talk about your bra size!  JESUS!”

A few other passengers smirk.

“I’m sorry,” the girl stammers.  “I didn’t realize I was bothering anyone.”

“Puh-shaw!  You think we want to hear all of your business?!?!?”

The girl tenses up.

“Am I bothering the rest of you?” she diverts her attention to the other passengers.

Several people nod in her favor.  This astounds the middle-aged woman.

“This is FUCKING ridiculous!  You are ALL barbarians!!!  This is the precise reason I usually take the subway!!!!!!!!”

The bus pulls into my stop.  I exit into the rain alongside the cell phone crusader, unable to avoid rubbing a boob and a shoulder on the woman who previously elbowed me in the ribs.  The cell phone crusader walks ahead of me still murmuring about the atrocity of the twenty-something, her cell phone, and her gang of defenders.

I dodge puddles, cursing myself for leaving my rain boots at home.  My feet are damp.  My toes are chaffed.  My rib is bruised.  My back is drenched.  And my patience is nowhere to be found.  I arrive at Bellevue Hospital, the site of my newest job assignment.  Not making it on the first bus means I may be late.  Navigating crowds of people, I quickly find my way to the bank of elevators that should get me to my floor.  There are four elevators.  Only one appears to be working.  Of course.  Twenty other people wait alongside me, and I already know I will not be able to fit on the elevator when it finally arrives.  I wait for that elevator to climb 16 floors and then slowly descend back to ground level.  I barrel my way on, sucking in and clutching my bag to my sweaty chest.  I know that I will soon find myself in a tiny cubicle, that will, after all of this claustrophobia, seem like sprawling real estate.

When the elevator opens to my floor just one minute before 9:00, I feel home free.

Until I realize the air conditioning in my office isn’t working.

Awesome.

These days are rough.  It’s hard not to look at The City with contempt.  I love this place.  I’m kind to it.  I tell everyone how glorious it is.

And then it shits on me.

But like an abusive boyfriend, when it’s good, it’s so so goooooooood.

Just one day later, the skies cleared, the humidity dropped, and the assholes on the bus seemed to call in sick.  I met George after work and we commuted to Hells Kitchen to watch a live taping of The Daily Show with Jon Stewart.  I am enchanted by a funny fella, enthralled by a smart dude, and completely captivated by the combination.  It was our first time experiencing a live television production, and I found myself completely grateful for my geographic proximity to such a cool thing.

After the show, we strolled the streets, nodded at neighbors, commented on architecture, and dined on the patio at Shake Shack.   Leaning into George’s nook, I couldn’t imagine being anywhere else in the world.  We never moved here with the intention of staying forever.  New York City is but a pit stop, yet it is hard to consider ever exhausting it’s magic and moving on… even when people act a fool on public transit.

Oh, and I went in for an ultrasound Friday morning to see if the Clomid I took this month helped me to ovulate.  Nothing yet, but I do appear to have an egg playing peek-a-boo with the sonographer!  I’m going back tomorrow morning for another look.  If all goes well, we should be able to schedule our IUI for sometime this week.  Hoootie freakin’ hoo!

New York City is good for me.  And my ovaries.  It’s a matter of time until I stroll the streets with my George and my offspring.  Seriously.  I can feel it.

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{ 9 comments… read them below or add one }

1 Alison@Mama Wants This June 2, 2012 at 6:44 pm

I'm glad you're able to see past the sea of assholes to appreciate one of the most wonderful cities ever (yeah I kinda have a hard on for NYC).

Good luck with IUI!

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2 Buff June 2, 2012 at 9:04 pm

Next time anything like that bus ride happens again I double wiener dog dare you to just shut your eyes and start belting out Madonna's Like A Prayer. Everyone will think it's a bus flash mob.
And it will be.
A flash mob of one.

Liiiiife iiiis a myyyystery
Everyooone must staaand aaaalone
I heear you (screaming now) CAAAALL MYYY NAAAME!!!!
(keep screaming, thrust hands in air)
AAND IT FEEEEELS LIIIIKE HOOOO-(bring hands down to prayer)-ooooooooooome……

(continue.)

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3 Martha Cole June 2, 2012 at 9:22 pm

Fingers crossed for you. Considering my close proximity to NYC, I have never watched the live taping of any show. And also considering that my father was a member of the theatrical union as a stage hand for 20 years. He worked with Jack Paar, Jackie Gleason, Johnny Carson when he was in NYC, Merv Griffin, Barbara Walters way back when she was on the Today Show. He also worked on a couple of the Soap Operas way back then. All this probably before you were born. He retired in 1976. I worked in Manhattan for about 4 months back before your M-I-L, Lynne, was born. I used to walk through rain and snow from Penn Station to the New York Life Ins.Co. down on 23rd St. and I forget which Avenue, it's so long ago. You take care riding them crowded busses. Sending you (((hugs))) and prayers, Martha Cole

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4 @TheMamamash June 2, 2012 at 11:30 pm

Ha, this is kind of how I feel about the whole damn world and all the people in it. Sometimes I'm all EARTH, FUCK YEAH, and other days, EARTH, FUCK YOU!

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5 XLMIC June 2, 2012 at 11:36 pm

Go, little eggie! Don't be shy!

I would go CRAZY in NYC. But I am sooooo glad it works for you 🙂 I can imagine those crap days are outnumbered by the awesome ones 🙂

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6 Amy June 3, 2012 at 3:54 am

Usually your NYC posts make me wistful for the city. Thanks for letting me off the hook this time!

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7 logyexpress June 3, 2012 at 12:53 pm

I do too much bitching about where I live and it would probably behoove me to try to focus on the good stuff, of which there is a lot. But summer here (May through Sept, really) is ridiculous. It is so hot and humid most of those months that every time I leave my air-conditioned house, I actually say out loud (even if I'm alone) "Why do I live here?"

I like your positive attitude, even in the face of a crappy day.

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8 MangoChutney June 6, 2012 at 1:39 pm

As usual, ur very funny. If u feel the need to walk down the street with ” offspring”, I’ll send my two youngest free of charge! They eat a lot and have lots of questions… And they fight about EVERYTHING  but i hope that egg comes out of hiding soon!

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9 clarissa July 19, 2012 at 9:41 pm

I fall in love with New York City again every day. I'm sure I've had the very same morning you described and against all odds, I too cannot imagine living anywhere else. So happy to have found your blog!

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