Category Archives: living in new york sucks so hard

NYC: The Really Hot Boyfriend Who Beats Me

Posted by katie ett on September 19, 2011 – 12:00 pm
Filed under living in new york is neat, living in new york sucks so hard, travels
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The Hamptons feels so far away from New York City that I sometimes forget I’m still in the same time zone. We ride around in cars there and eat pastries on the empty patios of cafés and stock up for the weekend in grocery stores with aisles big enough to fit carts. The town has ten boutiques, and the people who live there make conversation with you for no reason.

But on the drive home, you quickly realize how close to the city you still are. On the road trips I used to make in college to South Carolina and Chicago, I remember stopping for gas at highway exits that had little else. A truck stop, an adult bookstore, and a McDonald’s perched on a hill with nothing but miles and miles of farmland as far as I could see. I always felt like I was on the prairie, even if I was really in the middle of the Appalachians. On the way back from the Hamptons, if you blink your eye, you’re in Queens. The exits all lead to neighborhoods with constantly-busy streets, strollers full of babies of every ethnicity, skateboarding teenagers, shopping bags on every arm.

There’s no rest. I feel my chest tighten as soon as the row houses come into view and a taxi cuts us off. The fact that I hold my breath all day in NYC is only noticeable after a weekend away with nothing but exhalations. It’s like I’m always bracing myself for the worst.

Brooklyn Bridge

But then we’re on the Brooklyn Bridge, and the city’s skyline is the most exciting one I’ve ever seen, and I tell my friend Jeff, “If I’m this happy to see New York after only a weekend away, imagine how I’d feel after a year.” It’s scary to imagine yourself as a tourist here, older and settled somewhere else and without any more ties to this city than to London or Tokyo. Part of the thing about living in NYC is feeling like you’re in on a special secret that no one else knows about.

Well, no one but the 18 million other people who live here.

How Many Times Can I Talk About Excrement in One Post?

Posted by plumpdumpling on September 1, 2011 – 12:00 pm
Filed under just pictures, living in new york is neat, living in new york sucks so hard, potty mouth
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A pretty fountain in the gardens outside of Kamran’s apartment building that speaks of a grander time when you noticed the 1920s handmade Italian tiles on the sides of the buildings more than the streaks of not-quite-cleaned-up-well-enough dog poo on the sidewalks. Not that I blame them. Touching feces through a plastic bag is still touching feces.

Tudor City Greens

And speaking of poo, I finally posted another poll on IS IT PEE-PEE? today. This one was motivated by Dishy of The Daily Dish and The Daily Dish, and her hilarious bloggin’ daughter, Madison.

You Know What This City Needs? Some Condos.

Posted by plumpdumpling on July 24, 2011 – 3:30 pm
Filed under living in new york is neat, living in new york sucks so hard
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This is no New Yorky I almost can’t stand it: “A Final Look Inside The Legendary Mars Bar“.

It’s so absolutely awful that it couldn’t exist anywhere else.

And so absolutely cool that it couldn’t, too.

You Are the Master of Your Taxi Domain

Posted by plumpdumpling on June 8, 2011 – 12:00 pm
Filed under living in new york sucks so hard, stuff i hate
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I don’t take a lot of taxis. Not only am I usually unwilling to pay the initial pick-up fee of $3 when I can travel as far as I want on the subway for $2.25, but I also feel a moral obligation to embargo them because of the awful way so many cabbies drive.

I’ll admit that the idea of quietly relaxing in the back of a taxi really appeals to me some mornings, though. And this morning in particular, I was really dreading my commute to work because of the bag of clothes accompanying me for my trip to Ohio tonight. I could take the bus, which is right outside Kamran’s apartment, but aisle space is limited on those things, and jockeying the bag around at each stop would be a nightmare. I could take the subway, which affords much more aisle space, but it’s a couple of avenue blocks away from Kamran’s, and lugging my bag there in the 90+-degree heat and then sweating it out on the platform sounded almost worse than just walking all the way to work.

Manhattanhenge 2011
from the back of a cab on Manhattanhenge 2011

So I decided to take a taxi. It’s about $20 from Kamran’s apartment in Midtown to my office at the tip of the island, but what won’t I spend $20 on?, and this was a legitimate need. Kamran walked me outside (wearing a sweater vest on a 90+-degree day, because he suffers for fashion), but there weren’t any cabs waiting in front of his building, so I trekked down the street an avenue block and waved down the first guy I saw.

All of his windows were down, which didn’t work for my still-wet curly hair, so I rolled both of the rear ones up immediately. And then traffic stopped, and I sat boiling. I could feel the little sweat droplets bead up on my nose. I could feel a layer of wetness forming between the vinyl seat and my bare arm. I thought about asking the driver to turn on the air conditioning, but I felt guilty. I was going to pay by credit card, which eats into his profit, and then I was going to waste his gas, too?

But I was for-real sweating at that point, and since my best friend, Tracey, is kind enough to let me keep my toiletries at her house throughout the year for use during my visits to Ohio, I didn’t even have any deodorant in my bag. It was then that I realized I would’ve been cooler had I just taken the bus or subway, and here I was, paying $20 for the pleasure of moistening my pants.

So in desperation, I reached down and flipped the little A/C on/off switch on the vent near my feet, figuring there was no way I could turn on the whole system myself. BUT I DID! I could control my own fate! And swamp crotch! The fan started roaring, and hot air blasted my face for a second before becoming sweet, sweet cold air. My sweat dried right up, my cab driver suddenly seemed like an okay guy, and instead of typing 15% into the credit card tip screen like I usually do because all of the preset amounts are 20% and up, I just selected the 20% button like a normal human being.

Still learning, six years in.

Grappling for the Single Seat

Posted by plumpdumpling on May 19, 2011 – 12:00 pm
Filed under funner times on the bus, living in new york sucks so hard
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Earlier this week, I told you about the advantages of the single seat behind the driver on the MTA’s fleet of new buses. Now let me tell you what happens when everyone realizes those advantages.

For a while, I really thought I was the only one who even noticed the seat. Most people board the bus through the middle or rear door–to avoid having to say hello to the driver, I assume–so it makes sense that they wouldn’t even be aware of the hidden seat all the way in the front of the bus. Obviously I like sitting there, but I’m also young and healthy and svelte enough to be able to fit comfortably in the too-small seats the rest of the bus boasts, so I tend to leave it for someone who could use the extra room, storage space, and privacy. (That may change as the summer months approach and body odor season is upon us, but as a daily-showerer and deodorant-wearer, my sense of entitlement will be deserved.)

So the other day, I was standing at the bus stop near the marker sign where the driver usually halts. I was playing it cool, standing a couple of feet back from the edge of the sidewalk so I didn’t look too eager, but I had an armful of bags with me that day and secretly planned to nab the single seat. Only when the bus began to pull up, this wild-looking woman came from behind me, where she’d been casually sitting on a bench, hiding her ninja-like seat-stealing skills.

Read about the fight! that ensued here.