As you can see, I managed to survive the semester and probably even passed all my classes. I call that a win. (Not failing is really as close to winning as I ever get in college.) And now the holidays are upon us. (Christmas is probably my favorite thing ever.) Which means I'm constantly trying to maintain my mother's delicate sanity. This is no easy task considering my mom's favorite Christmas figure is the Grinch. But this Friday I took a leave of absence from Mom Watch 2009 to go to a Broadway show with my friends in New York City.
I'm going to be real with you guys: I pretty much hate New York City. And I know there are millions of angry I <3 New Yorkers who would beat me with their half-caf no foam lattes and their 'Friends' DVDs for saying this, but it's the truth. I don't know if you've noticed, but there are people everywhere! This is what happens when you try to fit eight million people in a city the size of a bodega. The minute you step foot into the city you sacrifice all rights to your personal space. "Elbow room" will cost you twelve-hundred dollars a month. Half the people clogging up the streets are tourists. I hate tourists. I know I am one, but that doesn't mean I'm not annoyed by other less with-it tourists who stop abruptly in front of you to take pictures of Times Square. And if the other pedestrians aren't enough to impede your walking, there are three-dollar pretzel carts (three dollars for a pretzel?! Are they serious? I can go to Costco and get a bigger, better pretzel for 89 cents AND have an enormous warehouse in which to enjoy it without being constantly bumped into by angry executives on their way to work) and people trying to get you to buy things like tickets to comedy shows and Obama condoms (that's a true story- there were actually people on street corners selling Obama condoms). And because space is so limited, every eating establishment has tiny, single-stall bathrooms, so even when you're peeing you can't extend your arms to full wing-span.
Using the bathroom in New York City is no easy feat, which explains why the city smells of urine and cynicism. After seeing "The Lion King" on Broadway (which was amazing), my friends and I were attempting to use the bathroom in a McDonald's with very limited success. As my friend tried to enter the tiny closet they call a restroom, a stealthy McDonald's employee cut her off and began cleaning the floor. As soon as the cleaning woman exited the bathroom closet, my friend jumped in there and locked the door. I was next in line, but somehow the cleaning lady boxed me out and went in to finish the job. Meanwhile, the men's room seemed to be quite the hot spot. I watched as a group of young men took turns bringing their duffle bags into the restroom and taking a considerably long time. You just don't see that every day in the suburbs.
There was one nice stranger we met in New York. As we were waiting for our midnight bus, pondering the incoming blizzard that was supposed to hit the East Coast, my friend said, "I never trust the weathermen." Just as she was announcing this, a trio of inebriated young men walked by us, and one stopped to address my friend, stating very firmly, "Me neither!" before stumbling drunkenly onward, narrowly avoiding a large pile of trash. Well said, my new friend. Well said.