56.0°,
Mostly Cloudy That’s life 9-3
A relative who grew up on Long Island but now lives in New Jersey told me last week that even while she and her family were on vacation, she told people she met along the way that she was a New Yorker. I reminded her that she drives a car with Jersey plates and had to give up her New York State driver's license years ago, officially making her a resident and member of the Garden State. And yet, she told me, it did not even occur to her to tell people she lived in New Jersey. She professed to 'still' being a New Yorker and besides, she rationalized, who really tells people they are from New Jersey anyway?
Years ago, my husband and I went to Hawaii. On line at a supermarket, buying anything we could find with an OU, we stood next to what appeared to be other tourists and began to make small talk. 'Where are you from?' is the easiest and most appropriate question to start with. "We're from New York," I said, dripping with pride. "We're from New Jersey!" she exclaimed, adding "I guess we're neighbors!" Um, not exactly. "We're neighbors HERE," I said jokingly. "But when we get back, I won't even know you." Bad, bad, snobby New Yorker. Shame on me.
New Yorkers: you can't pull the wool over our eyes nor can you convince us there's a bridge in Brooklyn that's for sale. We wear the hats of our favorite teams with glee and mock those who wear the paraphernalia of our opponents. We are the chosen people. And we can pick an out-of-towner out of a crowd faster than we can say Bloomberg.
Having chosen to spend one of this week's absurdly hot days in Manhattan, I took two of my girls on The Beast - the Circle Line Speedboat tour of New York Harbor with exceptional views of Lady Liberty. We were warned about getting wet, which on such a hot day was really the best news we had heard, and told that loose sunglasses or hats were going to quickly end up as property of the Hudson River. "Take your hat off if you want to keep it," said the guide, "unless it's a Boston hat - then, I don't care." And with that, we were quickly grinning and having a blast - and we had not yet left the dock.
The tour guide was charming, entertaining and very proud of his New Yorker status. He enjoyed having fun at the expense of others but it was all in jest. He knew the crowd was with him and he also knew whom he could and could not pick on. New Yorkers, and especially people from New Jersey, were fair game.
As we returned to the dock at the end of the tour, we passed the pair of identical structures on either side of the Hudson that house the ventilation system for the Holland Tunnel, recycling the air down below every 90 seconds. The guide explained that we were actually riding right over the tunnel as he spoke and then said that if someone were to look down into the water right at that moment, he would be able to see the top of the tunnel.
Well, pity the fool who bought that line. The poor gentleman who sat in front of me stood up, looked over the side of the railing and stared straight into the water. "Do you live in New York?" asked the tour guide of the gentleman who had stood up. His friends had nodded in the affirmative. "And you are a New Yorker? Like you are FROM here?" he continued, to which the gentleman said that yes, he was. "And you believed me?!" he exclaimed. "Dude, you can't see the top of the tunnel from here!"
Needless to say, the guy felt very silly - and the laughter of everyone on board, including his co-workers, did not help. "And you call yourself a New Yorker?" added the tour guide, rubbing it in. Insert further uproarious laughter by his officemates, right here. I have a feeling that the guy is not going to live this down for a while.
Hey, buddy: if New York doesn't work out for you, there's always New Jersey.
MLW
