Ah... New York!

September 30, 2008

Every time I step outside it's a new experience. That's just one of the things I love about NYC - so many people, so many different lives, so much activity always happening.

This afternoon I decided to go for a walk. The weather was finally gorgeous here (read: no humidity). Sunny, dry, upper 60's/low 70's. My favorite weather.

I was walking across the familiar stone surface of Cadman Plaza, approaching a pod of pigeons near the statue at the north end of the park, when suddenly a large brown rat darted across the ground directly ahead of me, headed straight for the city trash can just off to my right. Usually they only come out at night on the plaza.

A young woman headed toward me had that wide-eyed look on her face when she saw the rat. I laughed and said to her, "That's one bold rat - in broad daylight, no less!" She winced in agreement, exclaiming, "I thought it was a cat!" as she rushed passed me. I laughed so hard - the rats are big here in Brooklyn, but not that big! Too funny.

I turned to see the rat's rear end poking out of the bottom of the slatted trash can container as I continued on my walk. It occurred to me later that I definitely belong in New York if the sight of a rat sharing the walkway with pedestrians doesn't even faze me.

A funny thing happened in Central Park yesterday, where I went to do my first full jog around the Jackie O. reservoir. (Woo-hoo - I did it! 1.58 miles.) Wearing an oversized Mariners t-shirt and short, baby blue cotton "biker pants," I was walking briskly up the east path from 60th Street toward the reservoir when I passed a nice couple walking in the same direction. The dad had his young toddler son perched atop his shoulders. About 20 feet past them I thought I heard the kid say something about someone "wearing her underwear outside." I looked down at my thigh-length leggings and suddenly realized the kid must be talking about me.

Then I heard it again, "She's wearing her underwear outside!" Then I knew the kid meant me. I turned around to see the mom's face had turned beet red as the mortified father tried to shield his son's face with some colorful object in an effort to shush him. I was laughing and told them, "I've never been accused of that before!"

Not long before that, on the same path, and older lady wearing a long rain coat and hat (and other winter attire) was walking ahead of me, ranting and raving very loudly about something. I noticed that she was following a tall, white-haired gentleman who was walking hand-in-hand with a young child. The man was smoking a cigarette.

As I got closer I heard what the rant was about. The woman was carrying on antagonistically about "filthy, f---ing cigarettes" and how they cause "f---ing tuberculosis" and other maladies and pollution. She was just going on non-stop like a lunatic. (She was obviously a tad touched.) Granted, I agree with her that it's a filthy habit and I wish people didn't smoke in public--(yes, I'm an ex-smoker, forgive me for the times I did that) . . . but I still felt sorry for the old guy who was just minding his own business, taking a Sunday stroll through the park with his grandson.

He ignored her and kept walking at the same casual pace, despite her rants becoming louder and more animated. I walked right past her, wanting to tell her to watch her language around all these kids, but I knew it would be a fruitless effort.

And that's what New Yorkers do. We've seen and heard it all. And so we just keep on walking. . . .