It's been six weeks living in New York City. Here's a few lessons I have learned first hand.
If you don't watch where you're going, you will get hit by bikes, cars, garbage buggies, two people in wheelchairs, and a maybe even a horse.
Sitting two feet away from strangers at the park is normal, and so is having your body smashed between strange butts and armpits on the subway. Most people won't acknowledge your existence anyway.
People don't normally have heart to hearts with their cab drivers, so when you do, get ready to hear thirty years of bottled emotions and political opinions.
According to a man selling candy on the train, white people eat Reeses Cups, black people--like himself--eat KitKats, and all you other people (non-Americans), eat Reeses Pieces. He was obliging enough to let whites try a KitKat, just for today only.
If you bring birthday balloons on the subway, be prepared for the train car to break out in song. But when the song comes to your name, "2 Train Girl" is the standard substitute.
If you ride in the double decker sight seeing bus through Harlem, the locals will holla and laugh at you. If it's raining, they will say things like, "Where's yall's umbrellas now? Sh*t!"
Don't acknowledge anyone selling something near Times Square unless you want a ten minute speech, hug, phone number, or an invite to call them any time for date.
The best restaurants have a "B" in the window, and the really best restaurants have polaroid photo album menu.
If you want to feel like a bada$$, run up five flights of stairs while everyone else waits in line for the escalator.
You know a person is crazy when they say things like, "Mother Mary didn't save no souls, all she taught Jesus was pantyhose and lipstick"
You know a good street rapper when they successfully use the words resurrection and erection in the same line. The creativity here astounds me.
The water may be freezing, but east coast beaches are not lacking in the speedo babe department.
