Monday, April 11, 2011

New York City Beat My Ass

Abercrombie & Fitch fifth avenue store male model
Cute enough, but not my first choice for a "Summer Ho" ... I prefer them beefier.

I went to New York City last week and all I got was a lousy photo of an emaciated Asian male model at Abercrombie and Fitch on Fifth Avenue, a store that can't decide if it's a South Beach night club full of douchebags or a haven for tourists. Oh wait, that's the same thing.

I also caught a few cabs and a nasty cold that kept me bed-ridden for over 72 hours.

Mind you, it's not even the first time I've been to New York City, but it's always the same.

My bones were rattled, my timbers shivered, my nerves frazzled, my senses overwhelmed.

Vertigo on the sidewalk, grime under the cuticle, every street corner like rubbing a brillo pad against chalkboard, faster than fast needs to be. Since when was Nascar a bipedal sport?

On your feet. Always vertical. Buying $5.95 hose at H & M. Changing into stilletos across Grand Central Station.

Madhattan, you are, indeed, quite mad. Abrasive. Like having sex with an armadillo.

Cold. Coat on. Hot. Coat off. Bipolar.

Under. Over. Subterranean life. Subway stairways make me feel like a dingy rat and I'm not even a germaphobe.

Coat checks like dropping off your guilty albatross that you don't want to carry. Stories of sex in bathrooms.

Brick, concrete, glass, horseshit, bullshit everywhere in this gritty salad, dressed with the scent of pee and roasted kosher hot dogs and fresh falafel. If you were an innocent fly on which piece of prime property would you like to land?

Sometimes I wanted to toss my hat in the air like Mary Tyler Moore (yes I know, wrong city but still the same feeling) and scream "STOP GET OVER YOURSELF OK SO YOU ARE SO FUCKING GLORIOUS SO WHAT"

End stop.

Dizzying, perplexing, thrilling. Love it. Hate it. Can't wait to go back, but I'll wait until the lilacs in the dooryard have truly bloomed because my Celtic ancestors left the cold gene in the motherland.

Oh New York City, you may have beaten my ass yet again, but I feel like you are finally truly a worthy adversary. You're not gentle New York, but you tell it like it is, and if anyone knows what that's like, it's me. And this is why I love to hate you and hate that I hate you ... which is kind of like love, aint it?

If only you had more trees and a warmer clime.

In the meantime ...

It's good to be back home in my Corona commercial Miami, lilting my life with the swaying palm trees. If I listen closely enough, I think I'll even hear a slack key in the distance ...


This version of my story doesn't reflect the actual wonderful people I met, dear friends who hosted me and experiences I enjoyed. More on that later and more local posting soon. There is just something visceral about New York City that I had to get off my chest. Pardon the pun ... and the dust!


3 comments:

Yoly said...

This post reminds me of Jerry the Mouse. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fALSLA1k6-A

CB Gaines said...

Finally, someone who sees NYC like I do. Thank you for saying it out loud.

bobhazel90210 said...

"I went to New York City last week and all I got was a lousy photo of an emaciated Asian male model at Abercrombie and Fitch on Fifth Avenue"

Playing into racial stereotypes, this comment unfortunately does nothing but reinforce racial stereotypes. emaciated? This comment plays into the incorrect portrayal of Asian men in mainstream media. If the author wanted to comment on her experience, the "descriptor" Asian did not really need to be there. Disappointing to read.