This morning, as I flew off the train and quite intentionally cut a woman off boarding the escalator, she shouted at me heatedly, "Yeah, YOU'RE more important! YOU go first!" Can you believe it?? I couldn’t believe it. I mean, sure it’s starting to happen more frequently, but I’m still always caught a little off guard when fans recognize me. (She was definitely a fan, right? I mean, how else would she have known that?) I didn't have time to sign anything or take pictures, so instead just patted my coiffure in the back (a la Blanche Devereaux), turned my wrist ever so slightly and limply brushed the air in her general direction, giving her half a wave to show my grati-tyude. (I hate people.)
Last night I was at a few cute little parties in Hell's Kitch. Norm Lewis, currently starring as the ripped Mer-Gorge King Triton in Disney's The Little Mermz, was in the mix at one of them. After a long public debate about whether or not a second slice of chicken quesadilla would spoil his perfect six-pack, Norm came and kept me company for a while. I find that man kind of retardedly sexy, and I don't mind tellin' people. He complimented my shoes; I in turn asked if we could make out. We did not. But I am hopeful. Anyway, on my way over there I had the great misfortune of sharing a subway car with a family of - (puke in mouth) - tourists; Mother, Father, matching pimply teenage siblings, subway map, wide-eyed vacant grins from ear to ear...The whole nine.
Standing on the overcrowded train, being pushed and poked in places I wouldn't normally let people get near until at least 12 minutes into a first date, and virtually on top of these out-of-towners, I had no choice but to overhear their little conversation (the way you might overhear a bullet going through your skull), narrating their New York experience as it unfurled before my very eyes. (You know - The kind of cutesy, mindless, vacation chit-chat families make in order to divert their attention from the fact that they actually all hate each other?..) The hopelessly nerdy father said with a vaudevillian inflection, "I guess this is one of those crowded New York subways we've heard so much about!", to which the family burst into laughter! I personally was not amused. I personally was offended. I can't tell you how much I adore having to constantly witness happy travelers from Schmuck-Fuck, Iowa and the like turn my everyday personal tragedies into theme park amusement rides for their entertainment.
Later at Pax Whole Foods (which many of you locals know could bankrupt you with a salad) I was preceded in the checkout line by yet another clan of tourists. Once the woman in the group was told the cost of her small soup and bottled water ($42.50), she fainted. When she finally came to, the first words out of her mouth were, "Well, I guess these are those New York prices we've heard so much about! AAAH-HAHAHAHAHAHA!"
Again - an eruption of laughter and cheers from her little audience. Glad you find it so funny, Lady! You should see what I pay for rent every month. You'd be hysterical. This would be like if I went to Iraq for Spring Break, stood amid a bloody mess of fiery debris wearing my 'I ROCKED IRAQ '08!' t-shirt and said, "I guess these are those Iraqi suicide bombings I've heard so much about!" Or if I took a little vay-cay to the most impoverished village in Africa, surrounded by frail, malnourished natives (on set of one of their commercials or something) with a big dumb ass grin on my face and said, "Oh, this must be that African poverty Oprah talks about all the time! AAAH-HAHAHAHAHAHA! Where's the Food Court?" I mean, show a little compassion.
And while I'm yelling at tourists: Please, Tourists! Do not stop dead in the middle of MY crowded streets to stare up at the sky and frantically point and gasp at things. I know you are just admiring the city's beautiful architecture, or an NYC pigeon taking a shit or something, but because I live here and I am very nervous all the time, I automatically assume all this comotion is the result of a terrorist attack or some homeless man about to jump off a ledge.
So, new rule: Everyone please just stay where the Hell you come from! If you get a hankering for a taste of New York City living, I'll just send you a postcard with a picture of the Empire State Building or of me being miserable and poor.