When describing Manhattan to people living in smaller towns, I notice their eyes get wide as I describe daily life. Things such as taking the subway late at night, schlepping laundry to the laundromat, or getting yelled at by a crazy homeless person usually elicits the same kind of response, "Oh, my."
For my husband and I who both grew up in smaller towns in Wyoming and Ohio, our parents share a mixture of excitement for our new adventure combined with absolute fear of big city life. After we moved, I noticed both sides quickly booked trips here so they could scope out our new 'hood.
For my side, I flew home to Wyoming and spent a week with the fam and then flew back to NYC with my mom and step-dad. I was excited to show them our Upper West Side neighborhood and our new digs, knowing that I could ease some of those fears when they saw how safe and clean everything is.
And then this happened...
When I came home from my week away, I was greeted by a spiderweb of shattered glass on our front door. It looks like someone kicked the glass to try and get in. Not exactly the image you're hoping to show your family the moment they walk in the door. I decided I would explain the bright side...the fact that the glass hadn't broken shows how thick it is, and therefore, how safe we really are. (Right?)
And then something else happened...
Later that night after my mom and step-dad were at their hotel, I was reading in the living room while Mike was asleep in the bedroom. I could hear some rustling outside our door. I looked through the peephole and saw a young man hunched over the railing. What in the world? Had he been shot? Then I saw bright-red projectile vomit coming from his mouth and landing all over our hallway. After he finished, he just walked away.
I opened the door and yelled, "Really buddy? You're just going to leave it?" (Apparently I'm a confrontational New Yorker now.) He did not respond.
When my parents came by the next morning to visit, they told me they had to step around four different piles of red vomit. Apparently this champ had thrown up on every floor while climbing to his 5th floor apartment.
Again, really buddy?
During breakfast, Mike and I explained that in several years of city living, we had never seen this happen before. (Come to think of it, this never even happened in college.) Oh, and we were pretty sure the landlord would fix the glass on our door quickly.
So much for making a good first impression. I'm just glad neither parent was pickpocketed.
For my husband and I who both grew up in smaller towns in Wyoming and Ohio, our parents share a mixture of excitement for our new adventure combined with absolute fear of big city life. After we moved, I noticed both sides quickly booked trips here so they could scope out our new 'hood.
For my side, I flew home to Wyoming and spent a week with the fam and then flew back to NYC with my mom and step-dad. I was excited to show them our Upper West Side neighborhood and our new digs, knowing that I could ease some of those fears when they saw how safe and clean everything is.
And then this happened...
And then something else happened...
Later that night after my mom and step-dad were at their hotel, I was reading in the living room while Mike was asleep in the bedroom. I could hear some rustling outside our door. I looked through the peephole and saw a young man hunched over the railing. What in the world? Had he been shot? Then I saw bright-red projectile vomit coming from his mouth and landing all over our hallway. After he finished, he just walked away.
I opened the door and yelled, "Really buddy? You're just going to leave it?" (Apparently I'm a confrontational New Yorker now.) He did not respond.
When my parents came by the next morning to visit, they told me they had to step around four different piles of red vomit. Apparently this champ had thrown up on every floor while climbing to his 5th floor apartment.
Again, really buddy?
During breakfast, Mike and I explained that in several years of city living, we had never seen this happen before. (Come to think of it, this never even happened in college.) Oh, and we were pretty sure the landlord would fix the glass on our door quickly.
So much for making a good first impression. I'm just glad neither parent was pickpocketed.
vomit and broken glass = welcome to NYC !!!!!!
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