Why I Love Big Cities

I grew up in the country. No sidewalks, street lights, public water, bus stops, homeless people, no nothin'. So, when I was considering colleges, I knew for a fact that my country ass belonged in a city, where I could experience all the cool stuff I read about in Jay McInerney and Bret Easton Ellis's books, minus the drugs and poor life decisions.
Boston gave me sidewalks, a subway, crazy homeless folks, pigeons and gross tap water. I have never regretted my choice, and am glad that I live in a city (for all its problems) now. The country still beckons, but that's when I'm older and retired. Or when country school districts aren't filled to the gills with Meth Addict Megan and Paris Hilton wannabes. Yes, I judge unfairly.
This blog has a million reasons why I love cities, particularly New York. When I considered myself a writer, I was always listening to others' conversations on the streets or on the T. I heard some awesome stuff, some of which I wrote down. Mostly I wrote about the people I saw, instead of their wacked out dialogue.
There's something so brazen and snappy about New York. When I'm there, I feel younger and cooler. Not that I think I'm a total dork now, but it reminds me of my Boston days of crazy hair colors and outfits involving striped tights.
Read, my friends. Read and laugh until you almost pee yourself.
If I were to contribute one, it would be the conversation Matt and I heard in a pastry shop near NYU. A bunch of 20-somethings were seated around a table. It seemed like some students from a summer college program who knew each other loosely through the dorm they were staying in or a class they were taking.
One girl was holding court about what a slut she was, all the sexual things she could remember doing, blah blah blah. It was obvious that all the geeky guys there were totally turned on and thinking they might be the next lucky Slut Victim. The other girls were getting annoyed with her, but Queen Whore kept talking about her boobs and underwear until I was ready to get up and slap her filthy mouth.
It almost ruined the chocolate masterpiece we were enjoying, but it did make for good conversation afterward.
Ah, I love New York.