August 19, 2008

New York, It's Been Real

For those following along, my awesome (and awesomely dysfunctional!) bum-filled, bridge-and-tunnel supported summer in New York, N.Y., has finally wound to a close. As I fought unusually strong suicidal impulses upon arriving in much-loathed Hyde Park and prepared for another year of dodging bullets and avoiding vagabonds, marauders, and socially inept undergrads, I could not help but miss New York, despite having spent only a few short months there.

But enough of that sentimental shit. This ain't a site about gushing about the past; it is a blog about inadequacy, failure, self-loathing, and suicide. Why talk about love when one can speak of hate? Why engage in nostalgia when one can revel in anger? Without further adieu, I present some of the things I will not miss about New York, and round out the post with some things I still hate about Chicago/Hyde Park.

Fear and Loathing in New York

Cynical readers might expect me to launch into another vitriolic diatribe about MTA, what with its insufferably hot and humid subway tunnels and semi-functional late night train schedules. But, as I mentioned earlier, the loathsome SF MUNI continues to hold the number one position on my hit list of awful public transportation systems (privatize MUNI!!!!), and nothing I experienced on MTA this summer begins to compete. Similarly, the abomination of trash in the streets and general smelliness is also out, mostly because I have already dedicated pixels to this, albeit in a footnote. Never fear, however, for there is still much to hate. For instance:

1. Tourists and Various Other Slow-Moving Ass-clowns. All my life, I have been tormented by fat asses that amble about at a snail's pace, not a care in the world, and who, by the will of a merciless God generally always choose to do so right in front of me. Upon arriving in New York City, the first few hours I felt as though I was in heaven. Everyone walked fast! Those who did not got out of the way! Hallelujah, right? WRONG! While New Yorkers may walk fast, the city is filled with hordes of the very same fat asses from across the country that have tormented me for years. You goddamn people! Get the hell out of my way! I suppose it is small consolation that in New York, you can accidentally let your laptop bag filled with books swing and hit them as you race on pass without the hint of an apology, but still: it'd be better if these people all just died.
2. The Fat Person Cut-Off. A complementary problem to No. 1 is the Fat Person Cut-Off, whereby while waiting on a curb for a light to turn, you will be cut off by some fat ass who thinks that by standing closer to the street they might get ahead or whatever. As if. All you assholes do is block me when the light does turn green, make me suffer as you amble about slowly, make me exert additional energy to go around you and swing my laptop bag at you, and raise my blood pressure for the rest of the day. (Yes, I hold a grudge.) The worst part is the total futility of the cut-off in the first place. Let's face it: you walk slow, I walk fast; why not accept it and stop getting in the way? Better yet, why not just kill yourself? OK? Thanks.
3. Lower Manhattan. How do I put this delicately? Lower Manhattan is one of the biggest clusterfucks I have ever encountered in my life—and that includes time spent in Mumbai, India. Construction, dust, noise, detours, police, strollers, massive trucks, constant traffic, inadequate public transportation, more construction, more noise, more dust—aaaah! While most of my friends were off living it up in Midtown, I had to endure the gross misfortune of Lower Manhattan every single weekday. It was awful. Can anyone explain why, with the WTC site sill a massive hole seven years after 9/11, it was thought that allowing Goldman Sachs to build something across the street would be a good idea? Twice the construction, twice the fun? Obviously not, assholes! Seriously. The post-apocalyptic look is so last season.
4. Female Construction Workers in Lower Manhattan. Along with the disaster of Lower Manhattan also comes another major source of trouble, at least for me. For some reason, the whole summer, I was constantly being yelled at by female construction workers directing traffic. I could never do right by them! Whatever I did, and where ever I walked, I got yelled at, often quite obscenely. I may not cry on the outside, ladies, but that does not mean my feelings do not get hurt! Why are you so mean to me?!
5. Subway Bums. As all of you know, I am quite experienced in the study of bummery. Based on expertise developed over years of vein-popping experiences with society's dredges, I can honestly say that New York has the highest levels of public transportation harassment of any major city I have visited. While SF clearly has the highest ratio of failed human beings, at least they are mostly concentrated in awful areas like the 'Loin (easier to net and banish to Alcatraz!). In New York, it seemed that I could never get on a subway without some failed human being giving a self-righteous speech, playing awful music, and then demanding change. Some days I'd hear the exact same lies both to and from work. Hey, you piece of shit, what part of Get a job, asshole did you not understand nine hours earlier? Rot in hell.

I could go on, but I am sure you get the picture. Plus, I would not want to hate on New York too much. I actually did have a great summer (as far as I capable of experiencing happiness), and it is definitely a place where I could see myself ending up. I only hate because I love. Or something to that effect.

Chicago: New Year, Same Rage

As for Chicago, well, I do not have much to say. Yesterday I got a parking ticket for $50. I had put in an hour's worth of change at 6:57 p.m.; the meter was only in effect until 8 p.m. Did the meter maid show up in the last three minutes or what? And fifty dollars for three minutes? Really? Goddamn you, Chicago!

Today, I waited in line at Potbelly's in Hyde Park for literally fifteen minutes while a lady searched for her wallet to pay for a sandwich. Sense of urgency? Not quite.

It's going to be a great year. I can tell.