It’s the time of year when NYC is overrun with tourists who are somehow under the impression that the city in winter is worth spending $350 per night for a hotel on. The Rockefeller Center tree lighting, the display windows at Macy’s, the New Year’s Eve celebration in Times Square–these are all things that would be lovely in, say, Florida or California. But in New York, they’re painful and miserable because of the cold. So I guess those $350-per-night hotels are worth it, because that’s where they end up spending all of their time once they realize walking around Central Park isn’t so fun when the wind is eating your face off.
Anyway, I’m particularly annoyed by tourists for no good reason. I’m not one of those people who’s ever in a hurry, and I don’t have any horrible Christmas memories that make me want everyone else’s holidays to suck, but I require the subway to be quiet when I’m on my way to work. So when these massive groups of tourists all board one train car at 8:30 a.m. on their way to the Statue of Liberty every morning, I get my knickers in a bit of a twist.
On one particular morning, I was standing by one of the poles in the far end of a car, surrounded by French people. The French are especially bad, because they’re so darned happy. At least with the Germans, you get mean-sounding accents with harsh-sounding words that only perpetuate your bad morning mood, but the French are always kissing each other and pleasantly tying each other’s scarves around their delightfully pink necks, and all I want to do is knock them down a few notches.
5 Comments
I used to feel exactly the same way when I lived in New Orleans. Of course, post-Katrina, all New Orleanians are extremely grateful for the tourists, but back in the good old days, I used to love to bitch about driving through the French Quarter at 8:00 in the morning and seeing some yahoo in a fanny pack holding a yard o’ Hand Grenade and puking up against the side of a building.
What is a yard ‘o Hand Grenade?! Tracey and I were just talking the other day about starting a website entirely for foods that’re sold in yards. Tell me this is one of them.
I dunno, I think this is what you get for LIVING in a tourist trap. I mean you moved there for a reason… you’re probably 100x worse. Okay 10x, it’s not like you’re living on top of rushmore… but still.
That’s totally true, now that I think of it. I can think of two times just recently where my friends and I made jokes about the Jews in the train right in front of Jewish people. The last time, I was the one who made the joke, and the guy next to me put on his headphones to block me out. Oops.
Dude I wish I was one of those tourists in NYC right now. But I’d be a good one don’t worry. I havent been since I was 5, despite the fact that my two best friends live there.. I fail.