First Lessons Learned from NYC

Ok, so there's a story behind that blog title. I had a whole plan here: make a list every two days or so, title it "first" then "second" then "third" and then, if I had the time, maybe "final" once I got home. It was going to be a seven day extravaganza: in on Friday, out on Thursday, and composition book full of lessons to share with all of my loyal followers (if you all don't mind, I'm going to pretend that there are more of you to pump up the bicycle tire of my ego). I was going to NEW YORK CITY. And, on the train ride into the town, I had already learned 3 FULL LESSONS. I was so excited! The world was my oyster! I was seizing things that might or might not have been days! I had my whole life in front of me! I had cliches practically sprouting from all my various orifices!

And then the week happened. And, well, I spent a little bit less time on my computer than was expected.

I spent quite a bit of time on it, but nowhere near enough to get any blog writing done. So, here we are, the final day of my trip (I return to the mountains to shiver in the rain and mud tomorrow night). I let time get away from me, and now all of my brilliant ideas that would have put me into the bloggerdom hall of fame are gone. (I assume there is one of those. I mean, there is a Magic: The Gathering Hall of Fame, so I assume there's a more general one for people with a similar lack of a social life, just minus the card playing.) Anyway, here's the stuff I learned from the Big Apple*.

Lesson One: People Will Go to Any Lengths Possible to Not be Near You (or Maybe Just Me)
This was an odd one to learn, and I realized it almost immediately after I got off of my plane on Friday. I disembarked, scrambled around for a few minutes because I had no idea where I was going, and I finally made it to the AirTrain about half an hour later (seriously, I have no sense of direction).

If you've ever been on an AirTrain, in any city/airport, than you know that the AirTrain compartments are all the same: square shaped, two compartment-long benches on either side, two double sliding doors, and a few poles for those not fortunate enough to get a seat to hold onto. Now, with so little space and so little sitting room, it should seem that people would be more willing to be around each other, at least grudgingly. (If that's what you think, you must have missed the title of this lesson. How? I mean, it's in bold. You were supposed to read it. Idiot.)

Somehow, we managed to space ourselves, without any discussion or thought, so that we would not have to interact whatsoever. There were five of us, so where were we sitting? Four of us in each corner and--ignoring the perfectly good two free seats available on either side of the compartment--one grasping the center pole. It's the same (mind-numbingly stupid) principle that you can see if you're a man in a bathroom: if the two side urinals are in use, using the middle one automatically makes you evil. No ifs, ands, or buts; no one cares if you "really have to go" or anything. Similarly, nobody cares if your legs are exhausted because you just ran from the other end of the terminal because you're late for your flight. If you take that center spot, you are officially a dick. No one wants to interact with you. On a similar note...

Lesson Two: Everyone Hates Your Eyes (or, Once Again, Maybe Just Mine)
This one was so so amazingly baffling, mostly because I had been doing it and I didn't even notice until I was sitting on the overcrowded subway and clutching my things with an intense fear of them being stolen. But people will seriously go to any lengths possible to not make eye contact with you. The advertisements all up and down the train (all exactly the same, by the way, or alternating between two variations on the same product) suddenly become very interesting, the weaving seam of your purse, the discovery that your shoes are laced up incorrectly, etc. etc.

But that rule only stands as long as someone is looking in a remotely similar direction as you. Staring--revision: leering--is acceptable, as long as the person (leeree?) is unaware of your actions. I saw that happening far too many times to assume that it was not happening to me when I turned away. Oh, and don't worry, unattractive people. The leering happens regardless of gender or general attractiveness. Everyone gets leered at. Equality for all!

Lesson Three: Socks Were Created By God
I am now convinced of this. I did not exactly pack enough socks for the trip, because I assumed two things: first, I could always wear my long socks with my jeans, and second, I could always resort to wearing my flip-flops. I was completely and totally wrong. It was waaaaay too hot for the jeans, and the single flip-flop adventure I had gave me enormous blisters. So I tried a few days without socks.

That didn't exactly work so well. My blisters are even bigger now (they look angry at me, so I think there's something living inside of one of them). Also, sand gets everywhere. Seriously, everywhere, even when you aren't walking in sand it gets everywhere. Sand and dirt. There is sand in my bed right now because it was under my toenails. I am annoyed.

Lesson Four: Walking is Exercise
Aside from the rare subway trips, I walked everywhere. Now, after swim season was over, I pretty much stopped exercising. The fact that I have not gained weight is something that scientists will be debating after I become famous and my life becomes taught to schoolchildren from grades K-12, but I'm a bit more confused by the fact that I now have my six pack back. Seriously. Months and months of destructive work to my body, and a few, hellish days of walking and my body is on its way to being back in shape.

I have no idea how someone can gain weight in New York City. I have been eating--seriously--nothing but junk. I have been so unhealthy. I feel a little bit gross even thinking about what I have eaten. But my stomach flab is shrinking back in on itself. Unless you have some sort of condition, it just doesn't make sense to me.

Lesson Five: People Are Gross
Okay, last one (if you've read this far, I have no idea how you have so much willpower, because this is an unacceptably long post). The city itself is a prime example of this. There is no justifiable reason for what I have seen going on around here. There are trash cans on just about every corner. I saw residential blocks that had literally forty trash cans on them. All of them accessible. Just sitting there, within reach. And yet, less than a foot away, there's a slushie container, poured out over the ground. There are cigarettes and gum-stains everywhere. And even though it gave the city, um, "character", there aren't many socially acceptable contexts where you can drop your 24 oz Pepsi onto the sidewalk, glance at it disappointedly--as if it was the cup that did something wrong--and then walk away as if nothing was different.

Also, I find spitting weird. I blame my mother. And gum. Oh, so many gum stains**. And the Hudson is disgusting. It is calculated by Doctor *coughcoughcoughcough* that it is made up of about 40% water and 60% random-you-don't-want-to-know-stuff. (What? Didn't catch that name? Tough.)

So, yeah, that's my trip in a nutshell. I feel like I should have hit some sort of epiphany while I was here, some sort of moral pinnacle. That didn't happen. I guess I'm not really a New York kinda guy. I wasn't quite in the Empire State of Mind (hehe, I made a funny). Maybe the moral of this story will hit me once I get home. Anyway, I took some cool pics of the city, and I'm coming out of it unscathed. I had a good time, I suppose. And I got to spend time with my sister without wanting to rip her head off--or, well, mostly.

Trip=Successful.

(*Sidenote: Why "Big Apple"? I believe "Big Pizza" or "Big Starbucks" or "Big Hipster" would be more appopriate, as all are more common here than apples.)

(**Sidenote II: Someone really needs to invent something to disintegrate gum. Someone was talking about it before, can't remember who. They'd be a millionaire. Scientists, forget about the other stuff: this will make you rich.)