New Yorker Me

Tuesday, January 15, 2013

So there are pretty much three different versions of New Yorker Katie.

Most of you (hopefully) know the sweet, Southern, nice Christian girl version of me.  You know, volunteered in the church children's ministry and built houses for Habitat and love my family kind of me.  The one who misses driving and open roads and country music.  I didn't know I had an accent until I moved to Manhattan, and someone comments on it almost every single day.  I got asked to record the voicemail greetings for my office because of my apparently cute accent.  I resist the urge to talk to strangers on the subway, but have definitely been known to randomly ask lost-looking, tourist-looking types if they need directions or subway help.  So yeah, I'm a nice person.  And being nice in this city gets you a long way...most of the time.

Also, there's my favorite...totally comfortable and just living normal life as one of the nine million residents in this city, especially in those moments when I realize how great it is.  Like how I sometimes get off the subway and am still shocked that I live here.  Or tonight, when I channeled by inner Meg Ryan wandering the aisles of Zabar's (the You've Got Mail, cash only, get in another line market) after a killer spin class at Soul Cycle (where I sometimes see Kelly Ripa...okay, once I saw Kelly Ripa).  Sadly, Tom Hanks was not there.  And yes, it is fabulous and a dream come true.  But when I see a sweeping, beautiful New York skyline shot in a movie, it is still unbelievable that I get to live here.  My version of normal non-touristy life in New York City is pretty spectacular.  Hospital visits and all.

And then there's the native New Yorker attitude version of me.  I'm not proud it.  But there you have it...just when I'm stressed enough or tired enough to give in to how most of this city behaves on a daily basis.  Like this week, when I had been back in NYC from Oklahoma for all of 24 hours when I yelled at the food delivery guy.  Now, I'm not talking about raising my voice a little.  We're talking full out fight in the middle of the residence hall lobby.  The dude wouldn't give me the receipt.  The desk attendant (who happens to be my favorite one) had to intervene.  My very sweet coworker was completely speechless.  This went on for a solid ten minutes.  Yelled at the delivery dude.  Also happens on rare occasions with cab drivers...like the one who wouldn't take my cash because he just "really really loves the credit cards."  Sorry buddy.  No identity theft for you.  (Side Note: once you are in the cab, the driver has to accept any form of payment for any amount you give, and they have to take you anywhere you want to go.  Don't give in.)

Just for the record, Hotel Katie officially (probably?) closes May 31.  Better get here fast, friends.

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