While abroad, there were few times I was homesick. I actually went out of my way to avoid things that might have induced homesickness. For some reason songs about home tended to be the worst, especially Bobby Darin’s “Autumn in New York” and Simon and Garfunkle’s “Homeward Bound”; that last song makes me homesick a block away from my house. For those few times when I was longing for home, or when I needed a good laugh, I would turn to Overheard in New York. It would instantly get the monkey off my back, overloading my senses with that unique flavor that is “New York”.
I know people say it all the time, but I being a New Yorker is such a specific identity. It should be its own ethnicity. I mean, we have our own magazine. Over the past week, I’ve had my share of New York moments. Here are just a few:
- As I was walking past City Hall I heard a small boy, I’d guess around nine years of age, said flippantly to a man I presume was his father, “It’s your money; what do I care?” I don’t know what the question that resulted in that answer, but that just proves that Manhattan kids are a breed all their own.
- I ate a pretzel in Central Park in honor of a friend from the U.K. who, upon learning that I was from New York asked, “Oh my gosh! Do you just run around central park eating pretzels all day?”
- My friend placed an order at a restaurant that went something like this: “This is going to be a complicated order. I’d like the Chicken Curry Sandwich, but without the bread. And, can I replace the fries with a green salad? Ok, and instead of the house vinaigrette, can I have Caesar? Oh! And a Diet Coke with as little ice as possible and a straw.”
- No day in New York City is complete without your standard crazy-person monologue. I encountered mine on the bus ride from the subway. He somehow connected demons, Afghanistan and horses. I wasn’t really taking notes.
It’s good to be home.
I know people say it all the time, but I being a New Yorker is such a specific identity. It should be its own ethnicity. I mean, we have our own magazine. Over the past week, I’ve had my share of New York moments. Here are just a few:
- As I was walking past City Hall I heard a small boy, I’d guess around nine years of age, said flippantly to a man I presume was his father, “It’s your money; what do I care?” I don’t know what the question that resulted in that answer, but that just proves that Manhattan kids are a breed all their own.
- I ate a pretzel in Central Park in honor of a friend from the U.K. who, upon learning that I was from New York asked, “Oh my gosh! Do you just run around central park eating pretzels all day?”
- My friend placed an order at a restaurant that went something like this: “This is going to be a complicated order. I’d like the Chicken Curry Sandwich, but without the bread. And, can I replace the fries with a green salad? Ok, and instead of the house vinaigrette, can I have Caesar? Oh! And a Diet Coke with as little ice as possible and a straw.”
- No day in New York City is complete without your standard crazy-person monologue. I encountered mine on the bus ride from the subway. He somehow connected demons, Afghanistan and horses. I wasn’t really taking notes.
It’s good to be home.
1 comment:
that quote is awesome for two reasons:
1) it's john updike.
2) it's said by ed norton in keeping the faith.
(SWOONS!)
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