Wackos everywhere, plague and madness

I wasn't a New Yorker in the pre-Giuliani years (or even during the Giuliani years), but have consistently heard "true" New Yorkers either a) laud him for cleaning up the city or b) bitch about how NYC has no character thanks to his "aggressive enforcement-deterrent strategy."

Perhaps "no character" means "you can no longer get a dime bag in Union Square" (which, for anyone out there who might employ me some day -- I am a fan! Say no to drugs!), but it certainly doesn't mean "there are no longer freaks in Union Square." This is something I actually missed and have been able to enjoy in excess since moving back. I like free entertainment, especially when it is more creative than two guys banging on buckets or three amigos jamming on the 4/5 (which, for anyone out there who might employ me some day -- I am not a racist! Me gusta musica de Mexico!)

A few days ago, some man who looked like a groupie for Spinal Tap was playing what looked like an imaginary instrument. It was an electric version of those three-string mini-cellos you hear whining in Chinatown (see above statement re racism), except it had flashing lights AND it was a violin (sorta). This guy was dancing, Riverdance-style, with his greasy black hair flashing in the fluorescent lights. I wonder how people decide what they are going to do as their schtick for money. I can just imagine this dude sitting at home, plotting three days of no hair washing and the bastardization as of many instruments as he can think of and then Eureka! "I will add flashing red lights!" I mean, you can't make this crap up.

You also cannot make up ugly white girls with glasses and no hips, belly dancing -- badly. I was like "I'll pay you to stop."

Side Note: In addition to enjoying the daily freak show, when the subway is not packed (e.g. the 8:30am commute from anywhere on the UWS) I actually really really really like the subway. There is something simple and romantic about waiting for the train, reading on the train, people watching on the train -- even if while waiting for the F you see six rats bigger than your cat. I chalk it up to being raised in suburbia when the only time we rode the train was to go downtown for protests or Bullets games (yes, Bullets games -- I know they are the Wizards now and even though that's politically correct in a city that used to be the murder capital in addition to the nation's capital, I think that the name 'Wizards' sucks; and I'm a Knicks fan anyway so it's basically a non issue). Please note that I do not have these overly touchy-feeley emotions toward all forms of public transport -- some day I will talk about buses. Buses skeez me out.

"It's so clean out here." "That's because they don't throw their garbage away, they turn it into television shows."

I just got back from a short trip to California. And let me tell you -- people who don't live in New York are nice. To be fair, maybe it's not just New Yorkers -- the Dutch are notorious assholes too and wouldn't know the meaning of "customer service" if it slapped them in the face. Southern California, though, was down right shocking. I've encountered these sort of "nicies" in places like coastal Florida, where everyone is old, in the military and/or looking for a strip joint (what horny ex-military dude wouldn't be nice?), but never in Cali. (In L.A. the tans and fake boobs talk for themselves apparently. And the east coast has invaded San Francisco so it wouldn't be a fair comparison).

Perhaps more shocking than all these pleasant people was the realization that I am unable to make polite small talk with total strangers while seeming interested. Let me revise -- I can make polite small talk with total strangers while seeming interested (hey, I'm in PR, I get paid to do that), but am obviously stilted when force to use this "talent" in every minute interaction. Especially when they want to talk about more than the weather. I can handle "Oh yes, wow, how sunny and beautiful, uh huh, can I have my coffee now please?" but a full interrogation into who I am, how I got here, what I like about the city and will I have time to go to the zoo? Dare I say it made me miss the New York delis where the cashiers scream for the next customer before you've even paid and the people behind you start the "audible sigh, shift weight to left foot" routine if you are 30 seconds late making change.

Example:

Cab driver: "So, where are you visiting from?"
SEL: "I'm in from New York."
CD: "Are you enjoying your time here?"
SEL: "Uh, sure. I've only been here since last night so...."
CD: "Have you ever been to San Diego?"
SEL: "I think once when I was a kid."
CD: "What are you out here for? Vacation?"
SEL: " Just a meeting. I head back tomorrow morning."
CD: "Tomorrow?! That's crazy. You should stay for the weekend. Are you staying here downtown?"
[in my head: what do you think asshole, you picked me up outside a hotel?]
SEL: "Yes"
CD: "You should try to get to the beach. What are your plans for the evening?"
SEL: "Dinner with a friend."
CD: "Where?"
[in my head: at your momma's house]
SEL: "Uh, not sure, my friend lives here so will probably pick a place."
CD: "Oh that's great. It's really nice when you have a local to show you the spots. Otherwise I could suggest a couple of places. Do you like seafood?"
SEL: "Uh, yeah."
CD: "We have great seafood, great sushi. All really fresh."
SEL: "Great I'll keep that in mind."
CD: "So, do you have kids?"
.....

My cab ride was oh, 40 minutes long. I couldn't keep up the short answers while he continued to respond all smiles. So, Howard, my cab driver, is divorced and living with his girlfriend in Encinitas. He has two kids and recommends the yearly zoo pass because it includes Sea World. Let me know if you need his number.