I work in a pretty awesomely diverse school. Many of our teachers are from far-off places, and it makes for a really interesting set of experiences to build a community upon. But it should come as no surprise that we all enjoy poking fun at the maths teacher from the UK. Last month at our faculty retreat, he was retelling a story about something inconvenient that had happened (something about people not getting out of the way for an ambulance), and he ended the story with, "this would NEVER happen in the UK." After a few minutes of subtle insults back and forth, our favorite Brit added, "but there are many, many things to like about your country." We asked him to name five. And while many of them are not true of our whole country ("people are generally friendly and open about things such as racial diversity and sexual orientation" is not a sentence uttered by someone who has been south of the Mason-Dixon line), he said one thing that really resonated with me:
"In America, things are available. For example, if you want Afghan food at four in the morning, there are three different places who will deliver it right to your door. You can get many things."
I've been thinking about it ever since. Especially in New York, things really do seem to just be available. I started thinking about my the Upper East Side - just the places within 2 or 3 blocks of my apartment. Looking for a drink? We have a classy cocktail bar, a craft beer bar, and an assortment of crappy dive bars. Need coffee? Starbucks, Dunkin Donuts, a handful of bodegas, and a local Brooklyn roastery are at your disposal. Don't want to do your laundry yourself? Send it to the wash and fold; it will be clean, folded, and sorted the next day. Hungry? If we don't have it here, walk on over to 2nd Ave and find the world of cuisines at your disposal... or check Seamless if you're not feeling like getting your food yourself. Things are just available here.
And I'm used to it. And spoiled by it. So I guess it's not surprising that I get legitimately angry when I can't get exactly what I want when I want it. Why are there so few places who will serve me decent coffee on the exact route I take to work every morning? Why can't I find a cab up Third Avenue at 1 am on a Thursday? Why do I have to go all the way to the stupid Apple Store to find a backup iPhone 4 charger? I know that these are some of the most American things I've ever said. I know there are starving children all over this world. I know that people everywhere have literally died to have the luxuries we have. But this isn't a post about social justice. I need all the things. And I need them now.
Then I went to Atlanta. Not even to Atlanta. To the suburbs of Atlanta.
I woke up one morning after both my sister and my brother-in-law had left for work. I proceeded to try to make coffee using their massive suburban 12 cup coffee maker. When it wasn't working, I was convinced that I had messed it up because I'm so used to my single-serve Keurig. But I quickly realized the coffee maker was, in fact, broken. A text from my sister confirmed. Shit. What do I do? Drink the Coke in the fridge? Make tea instead? No, dammit, I want COFFEE.
Google said the nearest Starbucks was a mile away. In the suburbs, that doesn't seem alarming. Once you exit the neighborhood and turn onto the main street, most things are available within a couple miles. But here's the catch - I no longer have a car. I have to WALK A MILE UPHILL to get a goddamn cup of COFFEE? I barely have to cross a street to get coffee in New York! I was incensed. My solution? I called my dad and begged him to take me out to lunch. Ta da.
So what's my point in telling you this story? Well, one, I've decided the reason I don't blog frequently is because my threshold of stories to tell is too high. And two, I am a spoiled brat. And that somehow came as news to me! While I'm not jaded by the sight of the Empire State Building or a random celebrity walking down the street, NYC has made me incredibly numb to the availability of everything. Is THIS what makes me a New Yorker?
So forgive me, New York, for all the times I've screamed in the Bowery when all I see are gypsy cabs. Forgive me for the times I cursed my favorite cafe for running out of my favorite pastry. Forgive me for getting angry at delivery minimums, cash-only small businesses, and buses running on holiday schedules. This place has everything.
We all have those things. When do you demand instant gratification?
