We recently moved. Left sunny California, glitzy OC, to join the lonely lines of people waiting for the bus to New York city. You see them rain or shine, standing at various odd places, waiting for the bus. The metal Messiah comes in various colors, often with the air condition off (let them suffer, those Jersey tax payers) and we all sing together:
Take me out to New York man,
Take me out with the crowd;
Buy me some bagels and real good cake,
I don't care if I never get back.
Don't you love those Nuts4Nuts carts?
The New Jerseians dress different when they go to the big city. High hills, Schick clothes, stylish shoes, the good bag, suits. Here in Small Towne it's flip flops and mom's clothes. No exciting fashion statements at the Towne plaza. No hills for Kmart.
New Jersians are not terribly fond or proud of themselves. Everyone was fast to pay their condolences when we said we came here to STAY. "So you are not going back?" they would say, confused, as if a vacation here would be a blast....
The New Yorkers were especially blunt: "I'm so terribly sorry for you" said the clerk at the hotel where we stayed until our new home in the prairie was ready. New Yorkers sarcasm, I thought. But no. It's true. She was sorry for us, and I found it hard to digest after seeing what shoe boxes people are willing to live in for the privilege of being called a 'New Yorker'.
It's a quiet, subdued sleepers town. We are the cozy side of miss neurotica city.
So cheers for the sleepers,