I Am Such a New Yorker

I was thinking about my blog the other day, and I thought "You know, I haven't had any wacky New York stories lately." I then wondered "Is that because things have gotten less wacky?" and then thought about it and decided "No, things are exactly the same as they've always been, it's just that I am used to them now."

I think I have become a New Yorker.

This thesis was confirmed last night after work.

I went to see the saddest movie of all time at the Film Forum. B said "Do you want to go see Mouchette? It will make us feel better about our lives."

I opted to go since I had nothing else planned and because I didn't particularly want to go directly home on such a beautiful night, even if my laundry was waiting to be picked up.

When we got there, B was shocked to find herself without cash at a cash-only theater. I told her I'd get her and that she could just pay me back. Film Forum has awesome popcorn, so we decided to split a small popcorn and each get our own drinks.

The popcorn and two drinks came out to $9.05.

I said "Hey, B, do you have a nickel?" I figured the least she could do was find a nickel for me since I was paying. I had a nickel, but didn't feel like rummaging through my belongings to find it.

She handed me a quarter.

Confused, I took it anyway, thankful for her contribution.

I handed the girl at the cash register $20.25.

She looked at me in horror.

"I don't want that from you."

"Excuse me?"

"I don't need twenty-five cents from you."

"Oh really?" I said without missing a beat. "What makes you think I need ninety-five cents from you?"

"Ugh," she groaned.

I stared her down. I was in consumer-bitch mode. Who is she to tell me what I can and cannot use to pay for things?

Nothing was happening, so I found a nickel and gave it to her.

On our way into the theater I said "B, I really want to fight that girl. Who does she think she is? What is her problem? Why can't I pay for something with a quarter? What the f is wrong with people at The Film Forum? 'Oh, I work at a snotty independent movie theater that shows old depressing movies and therefore I get to tell everyone what to do.'"

(Note: I love The Film Forum. I just hate this girl).

Anyway, the point of this story is not to point out further evidence regarding how people who work at stores and theaters and dentist offices and restaurants in New York City suck beyond all comprehension, but to point out how I said something equally stupid and equally bitchy to someone who gave me attitude.

I never would have done that as a Bostonian.

This means that the transformation into New Yorker may be nearly complete!

When I got home after the movie, wanting to kill myself after enduring Mouchette, I was greeted by three cockroaches (one in the living room, one on the cabinet, and one in the sink) and the revelation that there was still no hot water in my apartment. I cursed at and killed the roaches - two grownups and a baby, ate dinner, gathered some clothes, said farewell to the mountain of dishes that couldn't be washed and the roaches that would begin their nightly orgy as soon as I shut the light, and headed back down to D's to take a much-needed shower.

Ah, New York. How I love it so!