Finally! I Did Something!

It's been nearly a week since my last post and I'm sure you assume what I know to be true. I have nothing left to say. The thought that this blog has turned into an awkward conversation with a friend I haven’t seen in a while makes me upset. So I have decided to get out there and do something.

My mom came in for a visit this past weekend and we spent our time doing girly things like manicures, brunch, and a musical, while CinS was out go-karting in San Diego for business. We had a great time, and I have come to realize that by visiting NYC so many times over the past 6 years, my mom has become a de facto New Yorker.

While waiting in line at the TKTS downtown, (TIP: the South Street Seaport location opens at 11 so you can get your tickets earlier than you can in Times Square) my mom and I were eavesdropping on the group behind us in line. There were 6 women screaming about how disappointed they were that Mamma Mia was not available, but that they would gladly see Grease or Hairspray or Legally Blonde or anything else that had been made into a movie. I was quite pleased by this, as I wanted to see Spamalot (starring Clay Aiken!!!!!!!) and felt reassured that the average tourist is unaware that this too is based on a movie.

Sure enough, Spamalot was available and we got ridiculous orchestra seats where we were spit upon by Clay and friends. Tickets purchased, mom and I had lunch where we made fun of tourists and their PG-taste in musicals. Please do not take offense if you are a lover of any musical listed above - aside from Grease, in which case you and your Summer-Lovin'-singing-at-a-dive-bar friends can bite my butt.

Later that night, at the Shubert Theatre, I went to the ladies room before the show. As usual, the line was incredibly long. As we waited, the woman behind me commented on the length of the line and how unfair it is that there is never a line for the men's room. Wow, lady. I've never heard of this phenomenon before, but you know what? You are absolutely right! What an ingenious conclusion. I am so glad you felt the need to share this with me. My world is a better place for knowing that the ladies' room line is always longer than the men's.

My face must have read my internal monologue because the woman behind me promptly stopped talking to me to continue her small talk with someone else. Meanwhile, the women in front of me all chatted on and on about where they were from and what other shows they had seen. As I scanned the crowd, I noticed that I was the only one not talking to a stranger. You see, New Yorkers do not make small talk.

When I shared this observation with my mom the next day at brunch, she told me that she never talks to people either. Maybe I'm not having the best influence on her.

This whole tale reminds me of that dumb graduation "song" about sunscreen that everyone thought was written by Kurt Vonnegut but was too dumb to be written by Kurt Vonnegut. In this "song," (which was totally not a song - it was a rant set to music, and shall now be referred to as a rant) there was a line about how you have to leave New York before you get too hard and leave California before you get too soft.

Well, I was never very soft to begin with, and the years in the city have hardened my heart - or at least my tolerance for small talk. I think the next time I see a show it will be something obscure and not starring an American Idol. It may make me feel like a nicer person.