A New Yorker? Whining? No way.

In an attempt to stick to the ideals behind this blog (namely getting some of my bitching out in a productive and thoughtful way), and to lend it an air of authentic New York-ness, I shall commence complaining about people in the city.... now:

1) I was slightly disappointed in Halloween this year, as I am every year, by people's lack of excitement about the possibilities of the holiday, but all around I think it was a good Halloween. I'm almost always disappointed by reality, because versions of events in my head are generally much more interesting, layered, full of mystery, and overall more sparkly than they are in real life. Halloween bothers me sometimes because I see no reason why there shouldn't be all-out dancing in the strets, sparkles and confetti falling from the sky, and ghosts haunting every dark corner everywhere. But I can't really blame the holiday or people's lack of enthusiasm, because honestly, Halloween in New York is pretty close to an orgy of insanity. I just tend to miss out on the good stuff. This year it was my shoes that ruined the potential fabulousness, as I've mentioned before.

But this year I was disappointed by another phenomenon, which is where the bitching about New York life will really begin. On my way home on the 4 train at about 3:00 am (I think?), surrounded by half the cast of Alice In Wonderland (who were, sadly, not nearly as cool as I wished they were), the shoes on my feet cut off blood circulation to my head and I almost passed out. We had to get off the train so I could sit down, then catch the next one. When we got onto the next train, we were greeted by a boisterous crowd of about six or seven guys who immediately started making fun of Connor's costume. He was Roger Rabbit, and they started singing "Little Bunny Foo Foo" loudly and obnoxiously. Ugh. At 3:00 am with my feet killing me, this was the last thing I wanted to deal with. I glared at them for a while, then eventually stopped because they had moved on to somebody else to make fun of.

This "somebody else" was a guy who was in a costume or bizarre outfit of some sort that consisted of a vest and extremely short green shorts. I don't know what he was supposed to be or if it was even a costume, but kudos to him for not having frozen to death before he got on the train. Anyway, the group of annoying guys began loudly calling Green Shorts Guy a faggot, then proceeded to make their way slowly through the car toward him, asking onlookers if they liked faggots. Of course most people just ignored them, and I'm not even sure that Green Shorts Guy realized they were talking about him because he seemed oblivious, but eventually an onlooker said something to the trash-talkers. I didn't hear what he said, but within seconds, the entire group of them had surrounded the speaker-upper in a wall of thick leather and puffy down jackets. I really thought they were going to start beating him up.

I had been in a reverie most of this time and only tuned in when I noticed the wall of intimidation building up midway down the car. When I asked Connor what had happened, he told me they were ganging up on someone who had said something to them when they were being hateful toward homosexuals based solely on a man in short shorts who may or may not have been homosexual himself. I found myself passionately and furiously yelling:
"Are you serious? Are people still doing that? How stupid can you be?!" In retrospect, I shouldn't have yelled it that loudly, but luckily the intimidating guys were all too busy saying who-knows-what to the man who had stood up for freedom of sexuality to bother with my outburst. And, thankfully, the situation eventually diffused itself - I'm not sure how, but the guys started laughing and saying they were just having a good time. Then they sat down and started talking very loudly about how much heterosexual sex they have all the time, and so on and so forth.

Holy leaping Christ on a cross, what a load of horse shit. Now, I realize that in many ways my views on the world are not the same as other people's, and after all it's differences of opinion that keep the world as interesting a place as it is. But I simply cannot get over the optimistic idea that at the end of the year of our Lord 2008, in America, where equal legal rights have been granted to minorities and women, and where homosexuals may not have perfectly equal rights but are nonetheless a firmly established and culturally enriching part of our society, people should not think it's ok to be so... what's the word?... mind-boggling-ly moronic. I mean, how on earth does one manage to live in New York City and hold any type of prejudice against anybody? Particularly on Halloween, at 3 in the morning, in a subway car filled with people dressed as cartoon characters, ironic stereotypes, ridiculous celebrities, inanimate objects, and animals, how can one possibly take oneself and one's own insecurities so seriously that it would seem acceptable to physically intimidate someone for being an advocate of freedom of sexual preference or expression?

How is it possible that in this day and age, after so much work has been done by so many for so long to bring the idea of equality and acceptance and freedom to the masses, that people can be so absurdly closed-minded? How can people look upon each other at this moment in time and be bothered to discriminate, with the world economy breaking down around their ears, the natural world screeching full-tilt into disaster, and wars raging all around us? It scrambles my brains to think of it. Particularly this group of young men, who were mostly minorities and who were on a train to the Bronx, whose lives have probably all been affected in some way by the lingering traces of racism and prejudice, seemed to have no basis upon which to build a case for continuing the wholly idiotic attitude of intolerance.

I'm sure the argument could be made that they were just drunk guys hopped up on testosterone, a group of weak-minded individuals looking to pick on a more weak-bodied or weakly-represented individual to make themselves feel more like men. Sure. But that's no excuse and it's hardly an explanation. I have no way to wrap this up neatly, nor an argument to make, or even a suggestion to offer. I know the chorus: it's just human nature. The strong preying upon the weak. Fear of the unknown. Yadda yadda yadda. But understanding those arguments doesn't make them ok or make me ok with them. And neither does my anger about it. Education is the only route, I suppose, but who has the time to deal with raging dickheads?

2) Or, for that matter, who has the time to deal with vapid, hair-tossing, fake-ID wielding, drunk teenagers? NOBODY! And yet I, with all my temper issues and intense need for personal space, seem to be a magnet for them. Last night I went to see the Felice Brothers (http://www.myspace.com/thefelicebrothers) with a group of friends. The Felice Brothers are like hillbilly Catskill Mountain gospel music on hard-rock and they are f-ing AMAZING live, and you should go see them. They attract down-to-earth and beard-wearing crowds, at least to the degree than any New York City crowd can be down-to-earth or beardy. A very laid-back group ready and willing to have a fun time without stepping on anyone's toes. During the opening band, Deer Tick (who, by the way, I also recommend strongly), as I did my best to stand patiently behind some much-taller people who had no business being near the front, I suddenly found myself being pushed aside by the furious dancing of a girl on my left.

I swear I DID try to be polite for a minute or two. But about the third time I was hit in the face by her hair, I turned and glared at her. And there I was, face to face with an 18 year old girl wearing an outfit far too skimpy for a somewhat-outdoor concert in early November, drinking a beer and texting madly while the young man with her stared longingly at her profile. I almost vomited. But things were just getting started.

Keep in mind that the crowd at this show was very calm and pretty evenly spaced. There wasn't a whole lot of room to move around, but there was enough that being able to dance a bit or hold a conversation with your friends certainly didn't require you to bother the people around you at all. Not so for this girl. I have a feeling that when the bands were performing, she was actually very confused as to why people were looking at the stage and not at her. I'm not kidding.

She was dancing unecessarily energetically and provocatively, and literally flipping her hair every few seconds, hitting me with her elbows, legs, hands, and hair, texting almost constantly, and having one of the most inane conversations I have literally ever heard with the boy she was with. As she drained a beer I heard him ask, with stars in his eyes, if she had a fake ID. Her verbatim answer? "Yeah, a really good one. And I smoke pot, too!" Then she went back to flipping her hair at me and gyrating in a wholly inappropriate manner for mountain church music.

Like, OMG, that's tots groundbreaking! A fake ID and illegal drug use? Why, in the history of all "bad" things ever done, this girl was obviously setting new records. And ohmigod she was like so totally hot, too! Obviously like everyone wanted her.

Thank goodness she eventually moved away, since I was very, very, very close to punching her in the head or telling her male friend that if he didn't get her out of the reach of my hand, imminent doom was upon both of them. My friends made mild fun of me for being so angry about this girl's presence, which makes sense since I am very easily angered by lame people, particularly if they are in my personal bubble for no reason. This was around 10:45 pm. By midnight and a few songs into the Felice Brothers' set, I had mostly forgotten about Stupid Girl.

But then, suddenly, about 2/3 of the way through their set, she appeared once again, right beside me. And within a matter of seconds her hair was being flipped in my face again. And she was dancing again, hitting me with all manner of body appendages. I was livid. After the fast song at hand was over, she turned around to the guy behind her and threw her arms around his neck, declaring loudly (to the crowd, I think, and not to him) that she would never kiss him at this point. As a slow song started and I turned back to the music, I actually heard these words come out of her mouth - I am not making this up: "You love me, don't you? You're in love with me... You're really lucky, you know, that you're here with me."

. . .

Yeah, she said that. She said that. I have no words with which to follow that. I can't even really complain. It's just. Well. There it is. New York City, ladies and gents.