I had never been to New York City, that place where even the trees give children the middle finger. It was always that faraway place, that concrete jungle. Then, last Monday, the phone purrs, Ring… Ring… Ring. My cousin Gracie is on the other line. After a bit of catch up and customary questioning, she offers me a couch and a three days in the Big Apple. I thought on it rather hard and came to the conclusion: “Hmmmmm... okay.” She told me that she “couldn’t wait” and that it’d “been too long.” Two proclamations I was rather ambivalent to at the time. I told her that I’d be up Friday.
Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday came and went like wedgies in gym class and Friday morning, 6 a.m., announced its unholy birth. Merp. Merp. Merp. I stumbled to my pre-made coffee and in three sips its gone. Chinatown bus, here I come. Now, I’m not saying that the Chinatown bus system is illegitimate, but I am saying that not having any decal or other identifying marks is a little sketchy. I couldn’t get a good look before I got on, but the license plate may or may not have been paper written on by black Sharpie.
By some small miracle, I arrived in one piece, safe and sound minus a bit of my own drool. Then I had to get on the subway. Oh, New York subway, how I will not miss thee. I got pushed once, bumped at least twice, and had my ass slapped three times. I’m a guy. Not that I’m complaining, one of the girls was kind of cute, but that was only the first ten minutes. I’m just saying. After an action-packed forty eight minutes I met Gracie and away we went, cityside.
The buildings were so tall! There were so many people! Everyone was power walking like my grandma. It was amazing. The rhythm was so intense. Gracie was walking like a normal person one second and a moment later she’d fallen into sync with the crowds. I struggled to keep up. I broke a sweat. I felt like last year’s R/C car. It was all a blur. I was completely sober. At some point we got into a cab drive and were driven around by Apu from the Simpsons. I swear. When we got out we had to walk another eighteen blocks. We were right there, almost to the sanctuary or Gracie studio apartment. It was getting dark out and I felt like an atrophied Tarzan after a day in the jungle. Gracie was pulling farther away from me. We got to her building.
Then it happened. Something was coming down the sidewalk. A car! A Honda Civic was barreling towards us! I pushed Gracie away from the danger and dove in the other direction. When all was said and done, I picked myself up and stared down the sidewalk, my jaw to the gum-infested concrete, my phone open. Then I selected my best friend from my contact list and told him what had happened.
(240): Dude, I almost got run over on the sidewalk by a car but, turns out, when it got closer it was just a crackhead walking with the whole front of a car... bumper, lights and all... I havenI had never been to New York City, that place where even the trees give children the middle finger. It was always that faraway place, that concrete jungle. Then, last Monday, the phone purrs, Ring… Ring… Ring. My cousin Gracie is on the other line. After a bit of catch up and customary questioning, she offers me a couch and a three days in the Big Apple. I thought on it rather hard and came to the conclusion: “Hmmmmm... okay.” She told me that she “couldn’t wait” and that it’d “been too long.” Two proclamations I was rather ambivalent to at the time. I told her that I’d be up Friday.
Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday came and went like wedgies in gym class and Friday morning, 6 a.m., announced its unholy birth. Merp. Merp. Merp. I stumbled to my pre-made coffee and in three sips its gone. Chinatown bus, here I come. Now, I’m not saying that the Chinatown bus system is illegitimate, but I am saying that not having any decal or other identifying marks is a little sketchy. I couldn’t get a good look before I got on, but the license plate may or may not have been paper written on by black Sharpie.
By some small miracle, I arrived in one piece, safe and sound minus a bit of my own drool. Then I had to get on the subway. Oh, New York subway, how I will not miss thee. I got pushed once, bumped at least twice, and had my ass slapped three times. I’m a guy. Not that I’m complaining, one of the girls was kind of cute, but that was only the first ten minutes. I’m just saying. After an action-packed forty eight minutes I met Gracie and away we went, cityside.
The buildings were so tall! There were so many people! Everyone was power walking like my grandma. It was amazing. The rhythm was so intense. Gracie was walking like a normal person one second and a moment later she’d fallen into sync with the crowds. I struggled to keep up. I broke a sweat. I felt like last year’s R/C car. It was all a blur. I was completely sober. At some point we got into a cab drive and were driven around by Apu from the Simpsons. I swear. When we got out we had to walk another eighteen blocks. We were right there, almost to the sanctuary or Gracie studio apartment. It was getting dark out and I felt like an atrophied Tarzan after a day in the jungle. Gracie was pulling farther away from me. We got to her building.
Then it happened. Something was coming down the sidewalk. A car! A Honda Civic was barreling towards us! I pushed Gracie away from the danger and dove in the other direction. When all was said and done, I picked myself up and stared down the sidewalk, my jaw to the gum-infested concrete, my phone open. Then I selected my best friend from my contact list and told him what had happened.
(240): Dude, I almost got run over on the sidewalk by a car but, turns out, when it got closer it was just a crackhead walking with the whole front of a car... bumper, lights and all... I haven't even been here one day... I love New York!
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