|You know, just workin’ on my beer gut tan.|
After I choked on the snort of laughter that this scene provoked, I very covertly snapped this photo to share with all of you. What I didn’t photograph was the couple at the table in front of me digging for each others tonsils, the woman who’s outfit matched that of her dog’s (there were pink ruffles involved folks), and the handful of giraffe like women who passed me in what I can only assume were outfits stolen from the Alexander McQueen exhibit at the Met.
The moral of the story is that New York City is not a normal place. It is a beast unto itself and you have to be a little crazy to live here. If you’re not vaguely nuts, you just can’t handle all the weird that is completely normal in the Big Apple. Sure, lots of normal people come here for a year or two to sow their oats or land the dream job, but if you’re not loopy, I guarantee you move out to the suburbs, or the country, or a more civilized city after you’ve made your mark. And don’t try to tell me “I was born here, this is where I’m from, I’m not crazy” because you sure are, you just don’t know it because you were raised crazy. (This is the part where everyone who doesn’t live in New York should just give themselves a big old pat on the back… Congratulations, you are less certifiable than approximately 8 million people.) There’s also something pretty magical in all this crazy; something that feeds creativity and entrepreneurship and ambition, so I guess we should be proud that we let our freak flag fly.
How about you folks? Do you live in the crazy capital of the East with me? What’s the craziest thing you’ve seen all day? Live somewhere else? Do you think your land of residence can rival NYC?