I wrote a little thinger for my husband’s company newsletter and today it was “published,” and so since inflicting my prose on a few Bates employees is not enough, I will post it here for you today!
This morning as we got ready for work we remarked how much the dark gray sky reminded us of Portland. As we walked out the front door of the lobby we were expecting the cold, drizzly Portland weather to greet us. Instead, it was 80 degrees and muggy as hell. For a minute, I guess we forgot we were in New York City.
Everything is different here. Even things which are exactly the same are different. Target looks the same on the inside, but when I temporarily go bonkers and buy out their whole inventory, I can't just toss it in the car and drive it home. I have to schlep it down subway stairs and through subway turnstiles. I have to lug it back up subway stairs and up to our apartment with the plastic handles cutting into my arms. I have perfected the revolving door technique so the bags don't get stuck, and by the time I get home I'm exhausted. Everyone go give your car a hug today.
Though our commute to work here isn't much longer than our commute was in Lake Oswego, the commute here is much hotter, stinkier, and grimier. You've never smelled real body odor until you're on a crowded subway, your face smack in some dude's armpit as he holds the railings above your head. But the people here are great; if they're not nice, they usually make up for it by being really entertaining.
New York City has the best sushi in the world. Brooklyn Heights is beautiful, and when we take walks in the evenings it's like being on a movie set. The brownstones are gorgeous! There is never nothing to do, and we have seen more celebrities than you could shake a stick at.
A few weeks back The Husband and I were sitting in Union Square eating hot dogs. We were sitting in a pretty crowded area when this guy wearing a blousy shirt, a Shakespearean collar, a crown made of white felt and rhinestones, a cape, and a skirt over his pants came over and stood in front of us and started un-stuffing a pillow. He put all the fluff up his skirt, in his sleeves, and down his shirt, so he looked like the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man. He then posed for us, flexing his poofy muscles. I looked around to see how everyone near us was reacting. The thing was, nobody seemed impressed. Sure, they looked at him, but they didn't smile or laugh, or even acknowledge the guy was there. Their faces were totally expressionless, and they went on as if nothing was happening. By this time the guy was wrapping his left foot in a plastic bag and had pulled the stuffing up around his face like a beard, still, nothing.
That is SO New York City.
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