The Puerto Rican mother in my law school class can't stop talking about how she went to NYC last weekend. It was an extended layover, but her and her husband got to spend a night there, in about 60-degree glorious fall weather."Everything just felt so easy," she told me. Funny, I thought this is the Big Easy.
She expanded: It's easy to be honest.
I told her I miss being rude, and the woman behind me, who has lived in Lousianna longer than I have, patted me on the shoulder in solidarity.
To an extent my classmate is right about NYC. There, when two people flip each other off, it's like a shared cynical smile, and for anyone who's experienced it, that can be heart warming. No need for "Excuse me ma'am," or idle talk about football games and the weather and how ya'll are doin'. New Yorkers get down to it: I'm annoyed with your presence, you're annoyed with mine, let's give that a brief nod and then go about our lives.
But that honesty comes at a price too. People you meet at bars won't even give you the illusion that they're interested in getting to know you. Strangers won't pick up your latte and the scattered pieces of your laptop when you careen down the subway stairs. And drag queens on 14th street will do an aggressive catwalk at you and call you a bitch because you're wearing a dress that looks good on you.
I guess the grass is greener and I'm missing having the freedom to be an unfettered a-hole, but I'm sure I'll get my fill over winter break. And then, who knows, I might discover little lies aren't so bad.
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