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I would like to take this time to list the ways I am (and am not ever) becoming a New Yorker.

 

Becoming a New Yorker:

1. I have literally no patience. Not for anyone. Not for people who walk slowly, not for people who double up or walk in groups and leave no room for the rest of us on the sidewalk, and I have no patience for standing in lines, which is silly because that is all I do here.

2. i have no sympathy. Not for homeless people, or people playing music/singing/pleading for money, not for obnoxious children or people on the subway who don’t understand subway etiquette (oh don’t mind me while I am trying to get out and you are blocking the entire doorway or ok that is fine, please lean against my seat and trap my hair underneath your massive shoulder or yes please don’t let people off the train first before you get on).

3. I hate the trains, specifically the F train. There are always signal problems and I get stuck on the train underground (panic attack waiting to happen) from anywhere between three minutes and an hour and half, yes you read that right, two weeks ago it was an hour and a half.  It is never on time and I have no patience to wait for it, but it is the only option (after ten minutes, I have officially been waiting FAR too long but ten minutes also seems like a breeze when I have to wait 45 minutes). MTA never announces work or delays or any work or anything so you are always left in the dark. It would be nice–or a miracle –if I could make it anywhere on time, or God forbid, early. 

4. It is winter and I am cold, aka, my Minnesota-ness is leaving me and I am becoming a wuss (because, let’s face it, New York winter’s are not nearly as bad as other states’ winters).

 

Never ever becoming a New Yorker:

 

1. New Yorkers carry their umbrellas around in the winter. Granted, the snow here is very different than Minnesota snow and is much heavier and wetter, but by God I will never be caught dead using my umbrella to fend off the snow. Be a man and wear a hat. SUCK It UP and don’t look like a pansy, New York.

 

2. I hate New York pizza. Blasphemy I know. I could give New York the benefit of the doubt and say that maybe I just haven’t found the right slice yet, but Midwesterners know all about Pinch Pizza and Ian’s and Toppers and everything else is simply pure trash compared do these pizza joints.

 

3. I like colors. I understand you all work at Vogue or Gucci or whatever, but I like not looking like I just came back from a funeral and will continue to stock my closet with bright and colorful clothes that are full of sunshine and happiness and let you wear  all the dark colors for me.

 

4. I will never call pop “soda” even when people at restaurants look at me like a crazy person. Yes I said “pop” and I am sticking to it.

 

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