(no subject)

[d_aulnoy]

Yesterday, as I walked to tea, I had one of those Weird New York Moments.

I stepped out my front door, wearing my shiny new skull-emblazoned tank top (I'm vaguely chagrined to realize that fashion has co-opted my aesthetic, but not really, because, well, this means I might stand a chance of getting to buy stuff I like this season), lit one of the pretty colorful cigarettes that TPB bought me on his Nat Sherman run (I personally think that these are a much bigger threat than Joe Camel ever was, because ... pretty!  like British crackers and Chinese fireworks rolled up into a delightfully vivid flammable treat), and heard myself addressed by a young woman with her hair all in knots, a guy with a little hand-held video-recorder behind her.  

"Excuse me, are you from New York?"

So I figured, what the hell, tourists looking for directions.  Right?  Wrong.  For, you see, the next question wasn't, "So, how exactly do I get to the Apollo from here?"   but rather, "Did you grow up in New York?"  And at this point, my incredibly slow-moving lizard brain sat up, stuck forth its forked tongue to taste the air, and sssuggested that thessse might be activissstsss ... or worse, documentary film-makers.  And, well, I was in a kind of a White Rabbit situation, what with having taken too long to choose the tank top, so I politely begged off and told them that I was late.

No dice.  They were happy to walk with me.  So there I was, cautiously answering questions about where I'd grown up, wondering when I'd be hit up for a donation, asked something way too personal, or asked to sign a consent form, all the while walking and being asked to look straight at the camera (harder than you'd imagine, but then again, I may just have been having a Blonde Moment) (in my own defense, the woman kept weaving behind and around me so as to not block the shot, and I was experiencing that same sense of "But it's rude not to look at you!" that you have when you're talking to a taxi-driver and staring at the back of their head while they're looking at you in the rear-view mirror).  

Sometimes, I'm too much the New Yorker - cynical, suspicious, jaded, etc.

Because the woman asked me one of the more interesting questions I've gotten in a while before brightly thanking me and returning to the corner to await further participants.

"So, what's your definition of a New Yorker?"

In restrospect, I reckon I pegged them wrong: most likely film students.

My on-the-fly definition was that a New Yorker is someone who's willing to take risks in order to experience life to the fullest.  What's yours?

P.S. - This whole thing threw me to the point that when a blustery red-faced gentleman in an alligator tee and plaid pants, accompanied by his wet-behind-the-ears but otherwise identical offspring asked me for directions to Columbia in front of St. John the Divine, I almost got into a conversation with him before getting brusquely brushed off.

P.P.S. - I'm still faintly nervous that I'm going to end up in one of those "The Truth" commercials.

Comments

[cataptromancer.livejournal.com]

So did they tell you what it was for? DID they have you sign a release form?

[d-aulnoy.livejournal.com]

Nope, and I actually *was* late, so I didn't stop to ask. A mystery for the ages, I guess ....

[brisingamen.livejournal.com]

You know, when I'm in New York, I am constantly being stopped for directions. Which is rather bizarre considering I'm not from around there. It's true that I always have a street map around my person, but it's usually in my bag, not in my hand, and I don't think I have a large sign saying 'tourist in possession of a map' above my head. For that matter, I don't believe I look especially approachable. I must look like I know where I'm going.

But your experience produced a very workable definition of a New Yorker. I'm not sure I'd care to contradict it.

[kengwen.livejournal.com]

I also must look especially approachable and/or knowledgeable. Normally (when in my own environment I guess) I do have good spatial/directional skills. But last time I was in the city I was approached for directions while driving a car with New Hampshire license plates, and I thought, "Can you not see I'm not from around here?" But they were asking directions to a street we had just crossed, so I was able to give directions anyway. Go figure.

[brisingamen.livejournal.com]

And this is what happens ... these people invariably ask for a place one knows about, or a street one has just crossed, or somewhere that is literally just around the corner, so one answers the question and retains the aura of of being 'local'. Isn't it strange?

[kengwen.livejournal.com]

Strange indeed. But heck, here's to at least the illusion of being knowledgeable!

[somegal.livejournal.com]

thessse might be activissstsss ... or worse, documentary film-makers

Heyyyy now!

[d-aulnoy.livejournal.com]

Hey, nothing against either breed, but engaging with either tends to be time-consuming, no?

[somegal.livejournal.com]

True-- it can be... but it actually sounded like they may have been making something interesting (though they shouldn't have bugged you in the first place if you said you were late).

I found the ad about the summer camp & photocopied it today at work (cleaning my room has at least paid off a little for something)-- I can bring it for you Friday (assuming you'll be there?)

Also, I forwarded that old email to the gmail address you gave me.

[d-aulnoy.livejournal.com]

Oh, I quite agree, and in retrospect I didn't mind at all - somehow, I was imagining something requiring more of a time-commitment. (See also, cynical, jaded, guilty, etc. :)) *This* I kind of enjoyed ....

Will definitely be there Friday - haven't seen you in forever! - and am now off to check e-mail ....

[vschanoes.livejournal.com]

...Someone who either grew up or has spent most of his or her adult life in New York City...? I also believe the sixties ended at midnight on December 31, 1969.

[d-aulnoy.livejournal.com]

Heh - *thank* you! I'd been hoping someone would bring up this element for a little mini-discussion. Because, honestly, what the whole question brought up for me was how my parents said that they and their friends would endlessly discuss who really was or was not a Moskvitch/ka - a resident of Moscow. Like, did you have to be born there? Living there for at least 1, 2, 5, 10 years? Did the outskirts count? Etc., etc.

Because, frankly, I could move to Timbuktu tomorrow and I think I'd still think of myself as a New Yorker. But I wasn't born here, and I grew up as part of the bridge'n'tunnel crowd, so ... false affiliation? Only true since coming to Columbia?

It's an interesting point, re: is NY just a place, or a state of mind, or both, or ...?

Also, for a better analogy, you might ask when the 60's began, given the two schools of thought on dating the decades. :)

[vschanoes.livejournal.com]

What on earth are you talking about, you weirdo? You grew up in Brooklyn, not Westchester or Mamaroneck or Long Island. You are from New York. You are an immigrant, not an out-of-towner, very important distinction, and there is nothing more NYC than being an immigrant. NYC is a place. Being a New Yorker means having become a native of that place by adopting the mindset and mannerisms thereof.

The sixties refer to those years beginning with the phrase "nineteen sixty," so they began at 12:01 AM on January 1, 1960.

You are way over-thinking.

[schrodingersgnu.livejournal.com]

Were you by any chance caught in this?
http://www.nytimes.com/2006/06/07/nyregion/07broadway.html?_r=1&oref=slogin

[d-aulnoy.livejournal.com]

Hm, not completely unlikely ... though the camera was *far* from professional quality. Will have to search the archive once the tapes go live ....

[(Anonymous)]

That's a good thing to be, but I wouldn't say it defines a New Yorker. (It \might/ define a city person; I've run into people who consider all cities terrifying.) IMO, a major measure of "are you an Xer?" for any X is whether ]you[ \chose/ to live in X (Inertia might be a form of choice; drifting isn't.) That's a different slant from vschanoes's because there are always people who spend most of their adult lives where they can earn a living. (Not to mention the ones who seem well-suited to their adult home until they ]revert[ -- cf a long-term Bostonian who has returned to rural South Dakota (http://home.tiac.net/~cri/). Was he two-natured? What would happen if he met the Traveler in Black?)

I could point to cliches to demolish them; the one really outside view I've gotten was from a couple in Darlington (halfway between Newcastle and York) who said everyone they met in New York was friendly. I can't generalize from my nearby outsider's experience because all of the New Yorkers I can think of are SF fans (or something like -- I don't know whether you'd call yourself one, but I'd say you're at least drifting toward us from the ICFA attendees who crash early every night and couldn't imagine going to Wiscon.) Being a fan, or even just being interested in the written word, tends to blur regional variations. (Not erase -- cf Damon Knight speaking of "hostile, suspicious, costive and clannish Easterners" after moving back to Oregon -- but blur.)

Related to choice is how you identify yourself when traveling. (e.g., the abovementioned claimed that on a recent trip to Italy he said he came from Baja Canada.) Do you accept, or even revel in, being thought of by the cliches (and half-truths, and even the occasional fact), like the Hollywooders in "And He Built a Crooked House"? (-"Of course we're crazy! Come up to Laurel Canyon and we'll show you the violent cases!"-)

/CHip