A Rock in My Shoe

There are things I have learned about New York City. The following is one of them.

You are always hurrying, but you should never be in a hurry.

Nothing can be slow in New York. Doing things slowly makes you conspicuous, it makes you suspect, and it can get you trampled or shanked if you do it long enough. It behooves you to adapt to New York City's pace, and so you do. Your step quickens, and you become impatient. Inevitably, the pace of New York becomes a part of you. I have actually walked across a street in the wrong direction just because there was a Walk signal. Standing still is like having a rock in my shoe--it's irritating, and I'm going to fix it as soon as I can.

However.....

New York does not allow for swiftness. There are too many people, too many cars, too many of everything. Except in the most miraculous of circumstances, point A and point B have a very wide and unforgiving chasm between them. If you are catching a cab or driving, there is always an insane amount of traffic. The subway usually comes at regular intervals, but it's by no means a science, and you can't count on it. I've been burned many times by accepting the typical subway commuting time as granted, and being late because of that. I pace back and forth in the subway, willing it to arrive. When it does, Murphy laughs at me from behind his Law --because it isn't the right train.

Even the sidewalks in NYC are congested, especially where I live in Midtown. Generally they have two imaginary lanes, one in each direction, each favoring high pedestrian speeds. But not everyone adheres to the rules of foot traffic, and not everyone is from New York. So they walk slowly. Sometimes, unnervingly, people walk in groups four across (leaving you no room to pass them) at a pace rivaling that of a Roofied snail. When you are in a hurry to get somewhere, these stops and starts are maddening. I know that I shouldn't get frustrated by something as simple as an Arkansan family stopping in the middle of the sidewalk to gawk at the Producers marquee. But I can't help it. The pace is a part of me now, and whether I like it or not, slow southern families are a big pain in my ass.

So, I'm learning to allow way more time than I think I will need to get where I am going. I am learning to walk at a comfortable pace, and try to be patient when my way is blocked. I am going to try to make my peace with transit sloth, and find my ambulatory Zen. But this is New York, after all--so, I'm not going to get too carried away. I'm not going to walk barefoot just to keep from having rocks in my shoe.