There is usually so much in the media about how we as the whole world should love New York City, how it is the best place to live on earth and how the ones that live there have truly made it in life. Day after day, night after night, sitcom after sitcom our brains are washed by the dry sense of humor in Seinfeld, then soaked in Will and Grace, bleached by the NYPD blue, then second washed by Friends and tumble dried by the Nanny and Everybody loves Raymond. According to these sitcoms life in NYC definitely requires a twisted sense of humor, a double side order of sarcasm, and perhaps most important of all a certain stubborn streak combined with a definitive dislike of people --random people, people you do not even know. On any given day, it is hard to bring all these different personality items together. So it would seem New Yorkers would be hard to come by. On the contrary, six million and counting, New Yorkers are more abundant than they themselves are willing to admit.
When you have that many assholes living together in one space, being an asshole no longer differentiates one from others. This is when ultra-asshole, super-asshole, and mega-assholes come into play. I wonder why there are no public bathrooms in NYC? With so many assholes roaming the streets one would think it would not be hard to stay in business.
I tried to be an asshole. In fact, I do believe I had most of the qualifications listed. But I just could not hack it. And to tell you the truth, I am tired. I am tired of hating New York City. I hate its bridges, tunnels, and its freaking Central Park. I could not give a rat's ass about not getting a table at the Oak Room, not lunching at the Four Seasons hotel, not having friendly little dinner at Vong, nor being treated like a non-celebrity at the Hudson hotel. These are things I never wanted to have in the first place. But when you're there, when you're on the street, when you're among the other minions you cling to these little dreams, these little scenarios that will somehow transform you from being a nobody to someone important someday. The logistics of this delivery day when you will receive your gift is not clear, in fact some believe it is as much of an urban legend as the second coming of Jesus.
New York, New York, they thought it was so good that it needed to be named twice. New York you lay on your side like a dying cow. New York you spin, you cycle, you rise, you falter. Still the big wheel keeps on turning with the homeless people eating out of trashcans in East Village. New York with your $400 stilettos hammering the streets in Upper West Side; New York, your queers outnumbering everyone else; Manhattan New York with Brooklyn and New Jersey dangling on both sides unable to join in on the glamour and still unwilling to let go. I do not heart you New York. I am sorry to say but I promise you this, I will not be coming back to you one day.
