Life in the jumbo apple has been rich and bizarre. The morsels listed below really only cover the tip of the iceberg.
A handful of things about big appletini life that alarm me:
-Quickly grasping that those streams and trickles on the sidewalks were not produced by leaky hoses or a children’s squirt gun fight, but by dogs and humans alike (mostly men, I am assuming/hoping) who were not patient enough to search out a more innocuous restroom.
-The tremendous rage directed at me for not wearing pants during the frosty winter hours of the city. Just last night, a pack of drunk girls screamed, “WHAT THE F*$%?!” at me as I passed them by, and even a sweet-looking old man shrieked, “SHIT!” in my face for wearing running shorts on the otherwise bundled up streets of Manhattan.
-The monster that I become when I am walking to work. It’s recently come to my attention that I look like an extremely angry, angry demon when I’m marching off to put in some weekly labor. One of my work colleagues told me that when he saw me walking up to the building one day, he was very frightened. This is alarming especially because, generally, I’m that toothy weirdo who can’t stop smiling even when someone is screaming/spittling in my face or about to slap me. But now, for some reason I can’t stop wanting to push small children out of my way and to violently leap frog over slow-moving old women who dare to cross my blazing path during my furious trek to work. This probably calls for some self-evaluation.
-Having no curtains, going to bed, glancing casually through my window, locking eyes with a large man sitting directly in front of the window, screaming, calling my roommate over, turning back only to see the large behind of a large woman on top of the large man enter the scene, more screaming, covering my window with 67,000 post it notes to block-it-out-make-it-stoppp. Problem solved. Counseling needed.
-On a similar note, showering with no curtains has become an increasingly natural, stress-free activity.
There are at least 10 billion more things to add to this list, but Santa Break in the Ohio homeland really took it out of me, and I have only the energy to share these unnerving tidbits for now. More to come (likely to feature tussling subway rats, the mold laid by an alien growing on my wall, and my roommate Michael W. Stanley–the man who owns more clothing than the entire populace of North Dakota yet refuses to wear any of it ever).