Last week I was walking down the street in the financial district. I was on the phone with a crucial contact at NYU Medical Center discussing my job search. Admittedly, I was distracted and not quite sure where I was headed, which led to the slightest hesitation as I came to a corner.
Suddenly a woman yelled, quite loudly and very aggressively “F*CKING WALK, B*TCH. UUUGH!”
And for some strange, beautiful reason my North Dakotan-bred reaction was not anger, not even horror. I found myself giggling. And very, very proud.
Not what I expected either.
But it felt perfectly New York and I was just so damn amused that a random woman on the street had yelled at me. While I was on the phone with a potential boss. And all I could do was giggle.
A week later it still makes me smile. I consider it a crucial moment in the “welcome to New York City” timeline.
In other New York milestones, I was walking home from the subway after a few days in Chicago, when I walked past our neighborhood homeless man and exclaimed, without even realizing it was coming out of my mouth, “You got a haircut! It looks good!”. You see, the older gentleman normally has a very long beard and hair and suddenly looked quite clean-cut. He’s always sitting on that particular corner with his markers and crayons fanned out as he draws pictures on cardboard. In spite of my personal no-money-to-panhandlers policy I have fished out some cash for him when my heart tugs me that direction. And I had noticed he had gotten a haircut. Only in New York. Ooooonly in New York.
All these odd, seemingly unpleasant interactions just add to the adventure that is this big, crazy city. And for that I am deeply, giggle-inducing grateful.