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Tuesday, June 20, 2006

 

We Are So Fucking Nice Here

According to an article in Reader's Digest, America's leading source of hard-hitting news, New York City is the politest city on the face of the planet. Take that, Vatican City! I know there will be people who live in other parts of the country who will be a bit dubious upon hearing of NYC's status as the Manner Capitol of the World. Before I moved here, I would've doubted it, too. But it's a fact. People that live here are just as nice as can be.

For example, when I was mugged last week, the guy was just so nice. He asked me if I wouldn't mind terribly shutting the fuck up. He said, "It pains me to inform you, but if you do not give me the money from your wallet, I shall be forced, as, you understand, a last resort, to spill your guts all over the sidewalk." And he took the time to help me pick some of my guts up after he had spilled them. In other cities, I'm quite certain I wouldn't have gotten a "Have a pleasant day" as my mugger ran off.

The junkies who piss in the street in front of our house are also just so very sweet. They will often, when they see you about to step off the curb, say something along the lines of, "You might want to watch your step there, friend, the street right there is coated in my urine."

The crazy pantsless guy who yells at me sometimes on the 4 Train always makes sure that any specks of boiled egg he spits onto my shirt get wiped off before we reach my station. When I lived in Phoenix, the crazy guys spat eggs at you on purpose. You think they'd clean it off? Think again, mister.

And the retail clerks here! Don't get me started on how wonderful they are or I'll just go on typing all damn night. Yes, it sometimes takes a couple of dozen minutes to get them to acknowledge that you're standing at the counter waiting for them, but once they do notice you, they will bend over backwards to make sure that you're getting the best customer service experience of your life. Yes, occasionally, they'll stare at the cash register with a zombie-ish look on their face and not say a word. And, okay, sometimes they're more concerned about carrying on a conversation with the harpy at the register next to them. But you only really get those types of jerks maybe 97% of the time.

So I'm just as pleased as punch that Reader's Digest has put to paper what I've know for a long time: The Big Apple has a great big heart. Which is actually a little disgusting when you think of it, an apple with a heart. But whatever.

Comments:
But you have to admit that New Yorkers always know your name...as long as your name is "Yo".
 
I just wanted to leave a comment and let you know that I love reading your blog. I have a few that I read every morning, and you have been added to my list.
 
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