I have a few things to say to you New York. New Yorkers. Manhattanites…
Why do you think it is ok to call delivery people across the globe for a single hot dog and not tip more than 1.25? Those guys work hard. Knock it off. Eat More Hot Dogs, Tip Better: Your new mantra, write it down. Girls who are too drunk to stand, especially attempting it in heels, at 4 am, in public, and more importantly in the middle of an avenue: You don’t have to stop a cab with your body, a simple wave of the hand will do. Also, bikes riding by in bike lane are not to be hailed as a cab, or to be hugged, I know I look good in my chef coat but instantly stopping a bike going 20 mph carrying a 190 lb guy… a challenge for even the hardiest of shot putters. (No there are not nachos in my knife bag)
New York runners, your time in the spotlight. We see enough people on the streets every single day that we choose to pretend don’t exist, and when you see as many people as we do they all tend to blur together. NY Runners, drop your shields to your team mates. There is no reason to blindly and embarrassingly go stone cold as one of your own runs by sweaty and gasping. I see the awkwardness in your eyes as you can’t help but look to see if they are in as bad of shape as you are, but as I give you the ‘hey, I don’t have much energy, I really hurt right now, but refuse not to cheer on a compatriot,’ hand spasm, you dive right back into your sidewalk of NY shell. The worst part is that I see you get flustered at your lack of action, and from your surprise that someone out on those lonely bike paths would notice you… but next time… next time, give a little smirk, or start small and raise an eyebrow, and in turn over time I will break you of your wallflower ways, I will recruit you to my team… and we’ll be momentary friends.