Out of Commission

Not to be cliche, but I do love New York. It's where I was born and raised. The contaminants of its thick, smoggy, summer air have permanently lodged themselves in my lung tissue and who knows what odd mutations flow through my veins from imbibing the local water. You can hear New York in the way I drop my r's just slightly, enough to inform you of where I'm from but not so much that you would mistake me for some one taking your order at McDonald's. I love those months in the summer and fall when its not hot and smelly and you can see the bits of nature waging their eternal struggle with the concrete and steel. I even love the city in the dead of winter blanketed in snow and for a moment, if only five minutes, looking clean and pure like some Mormon bride on her big day. I love how we fall into a state of paralysis with every "major storm brewing" and react like an oversize woman jumping on her desk and clutching her skirt hems at the sight of a small rodent across the room. For a bunch of tough New Yorkers we sure do over-react to a bit of frozen water from the sky.

I'm in awe at how we deck ourselves out for every major holiday whoring our true beliefs and standards to a bunch of overweight Midwestern gawkers who come to see Mama Mia and eat at the Applebees on 42nd Street. I relish in walking five blocks and encountering someone from each of the continents (well the 6 that are populated anyway, but if those 5 blocks happen to cross the central park zoo then you can meet some penguins and your trip around the world is complete.) I understand now that only in lower Manhattan am I more intimidated by the presumed gang members in a Chinatown bodega then I am by well coiffed mobster types dining at Grotta Azura.

However to the MTA I have only one thing to say, concrete stairs with metal inlays are not particularly forgiving when they make contact with the human body. A simple slip and fall has left me limping and damaged. Thank you New York for a lasting impact!