Shiny, happy people

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One thing I love about New York City is the people. They are so friendly *AND* helpful. I mean where else in the WORLD would someone tell you to Fuck Off, Have A Nice Day…all in the same sentence? Nowhere, I tell you.

Take this exchange I happened to be privy to.

Scene: Street corner. Man with backpack is standing alongside the street. Just standing there. Huge bus, I repeat, HUGE BUS, pulls up and parks where man with backpack is standing. Please read this next part using your best New York accent. It’ll sound better in your head. Trust me.

Backpack man: You’re an asshole! You got to be the stupidest person on the fuck-IN planet. Ya moron.

Bus driver: (Won’t open the door to the bus. Instead he answers the man through the glass. Smart decision if you ask me) What’s da matta wich you?

Backpack man: You pulled up the fuck-IN bus right where I’m standin. I was he-a first. Open the goddamn door so I can kick yo ass.

Bus driver: Get the fuck away from me or I’ll run ov-a you wit the bus.

Backpack man: (Angrily picks up backpack from sidewalk and starts to walk away) Have a great day, ya fuck-IN asshole. I hope you die.

And scene.

So after witnessing the friendly banter, I decided it was time to eat. I love that on every corner in Manhattan you can find a diner. Ooh, look there. A diner!

I went inside and took my seat. The slowest moving woman on planet Earth lazily made her way to my table.

“Know whatchu want?”

“Good morning. Um…I don’t know yet. May I have a Diet Coke?”

“So you don’t know what you want to eat? There are like 3 options. Eggs. Pancakes. Bagel and schmear.”

Oh god. She’s going to start yelling at me. I just know it.

So under the pressure (she was still standing there, notepad in hand, sweat beaded on her forehead. Some of which I was sure would end up in my food) I hastily ordered.

“I’ll have 2 eggs, sunny side up, bacon, wheat toast, and OOH, a side of French toast.”

“You want all that? For just yourself?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“So you want French toast AND wheat toast? I don’t think you want that. That’s a lot of food.”

“Right. But I need toast to eat with my eggs and I want a few bites of French toast. I doubt I’ll eat all of it.”

“Let me tell you what I think you need. I’ll bring you French toast with a side of 2 eggs and bacon. Skip the wheat toast all together.”

“But I really WANT toast with my eggs.”

She then sighed heavily and began her long journey to the drink station. Seriously, I’ve never seen someone walk slower. Then I looked around the place. ALL the waitresses had the same affliction. So I’m pretty sure that’s a requirement to work there. The help wanted ad reads something like this. Wanted: Slow as fuck moving waitress with a judgmental attitude and overactive sweat glands. Friendly, hard working people need not apply. In fact, all you happy people can go fuck yourselves.

(I should write Help Wanted ads for a living)

Anyway, Betty McSunshine brought my food and I managed to eat ALL OF IT. Dude, can you imagine what she said after I left?

“Did you see that short blonde girl who was in here? God she was annoying. And what a fuckin pig? I bet she’ll shit for days after eating all that food.”

Betty, you’d be wrong. It’s now day 6 of Operation No Poop From The Shoot.

I look 7 months pregnant.

Also, I’m so glad to be home, where I can pig out at the Waffle House and nobody gives a shit.