So I've been here for two weeks, this is what I've noticed;
1. Duane
Reades EVERYWHERE
For those of you who don’t speak New York, Duane Reade is
French for snotty east coast Walgreens. Ok, to be honest it’s not that snotty
— you can only be so high and mighty while selling band aids next to adult
diapers, but I digress. The point is: Duane Reades, they are everywhere.
2. Hilarious
guys at every Duane Reade
At the Duane Reade on my block his name is Paul. Paul is an
aspiring actor/writer/astrologist and I am never buying Tampons from him ever
again.
3. All
of your fantasies about fabulous gay best friends will come true.
I hoped on a subway at 1am on a Friday night. I stepped onto
the train and heard “Giiiiirl, you work’n that hair, mhmm, oh yes you are,
whassyoname?” Suddenly I was in a subway car that had been transformed into a
game of gay trivia. I’ll leave out the details but lets just say that if you
work for MTV and you need some more reality TV show ideas, let’s talk.
4. Anywhere
you go there will be gorgeous Norwegians to ruin your self-esteem
If you ever have a fleeting thought of your own
attractiveness be aware that New York will punish you with hordes of beautiful
Norwegians who play the harp and wear non-ironic, transparent harem pants.
5. The only thing New Yorkers love more than making fun of themselves is making fun of Brooklyn.
Hipsters. Brooklyn. Psssssh. Am I right?
6. New
Yorkers Do Not Joke About Food
My first day at my new job I ducked out of the office for a
slice of pizza. As a virgin New Yorker I made the capital mistake of grabbing a
slice at the first deli I came across. When I walked back into the office my
new coworkers looked at me anxiously “So, where’d ya go?”
“Oh, I just grabbed a slice at that place on the corner.”
One coworker tightened her grip on the stapler she had been holding and my boss
just shook his head slowly. “Jus—just check with us before you eat anywhere—
OK?”
7. New
Yorkers must know exactly where you were when anything happens to you
Maybe you’re telling a story about the time you saw grumpy
cat. Maybe you’re sharing about the time you ran into Minnie Driver at a Dress
Barn. If you don’t know the exact location and how far it is from the L
to the 6 from the Q, don’t bother.
I have a theory that this location-obsessed culture stems
from WAY too many disastrous end-of-the-world movies that take place in New
York. Maybe New Yorkers need to know
exactly where you were so they can go back and repeat your memory before
Manhattan bites the dust.