Being a New Yorker

A couple days ago I went into Manhattan to find some clothes for my NEW JOB!

That's right. Nothing spectacular, but at least it's money. I'm going to be working at the House of Small Wonder cafe as a barista. It opens on Monday and I start Thursday. It's a tiny place on the ground floor of an old, old apartment building -- the floors are the original wide-plank hardwood and there's an old piano against a wall. The wallpaper is like, from the 50s, pale yellow with little birds on tree branches. The only downside: no A/C.

On my way into the city on the L train, a mariachi band piled into my car on the Bedford stop. There were four or five of them, and they played an upbeat song that made me so happy I put my book away and watched them. Then I watched everyone else.

Maybe it's because I'm new, but I just can't ignore things like other New Yorkers can. Nobody looked at them and just pretended they weren't there. But I was delighted. When the guy with the fish-scale thing (I don't know what it's really called...I remember it from elementary school) came around with the instrument upside-down to collect money, I gave them a dollar.

If someone can brighten my day in a subway car, a place that is usually full of zombies avoiding eye contact, I will gladly give reward them. It was a nice start, because after that I was angry at all the other people in my way.

I have always been a fast walker. When I was in school. the sidewalks or hallways on campus were like little obstacle courses to me -- dodge through the traffic as quickly as possible, weave between the slow person talking on her cell phone and the fat kid halted in the middle of the hallway, and don't touch anybody. I don't know why I always thought of it as a little challenge, but I guess I just hate slowing down. I'm that way with driving, too. So, like high school and college and walking anywhere with a lot of people, I had to weave in and out of the gawkers and dawdlers and people texting on their cell phones. And some people were just too slow.

I imagine I looked like a 'real' New Yorker. I don't know if I'll ever feel like one, though. But I get to H&M unscathed and within minutes.

I needed white tops and black bottoms for my job, and since I only have a pair of skinny black jeans and a cotton skirt from Target, I went shopping at H&M. H&M is a great place for basic stuff -- most of the basic shirts are $5.95, and everything I bought was under $10.

The only thing I don't like about H&M are their sizes. They're all...different...in a bad way. I bought a pair of black shorts in a size I have never bought in my life. And their pants are so tight, so skinny, that I couldn't even pull them over my thighs. And I know I'm not fat! So that was disappointing. H&M does nothing for self-esteem.

On the other hand...maybe it's all of those bagels I've been eating...


Also, yesterday morning as I headed out the front door to walk to Walgreens, a couple stopped me and asked me for directions! Me! It wasn't anything too complicated; they wanted to know where the "Avenue of Puerto Rico" was. It was right in front of them. Graham Avenue, Avenue of Puerto Rico. So you can guess what our neighborhood is like. But I felt somehow validated as a new Brooklynite that somebody asked me for directions.