Talk to strangers.

When I decided to move to New York, I started telling friends about how much I loved this city, and how desperate I was to be there. I had experienced the city only on vacation, for one week, during perfect weather, with money to spend.

Everyone who had lived there, or lived there now, told me all the things that I should expect. They told me to expect to pay more for everything. Then I got here and there were Wendy's, Taco Bell's, and Pizza Huts all over Manhattan. So... pay more if you plan to live like a New Yorker. (this is obviously excluding rent... I'll get to that)

I was told to expect to walk everywhere. What I wasn't told was that by doing so, my total number of used shoes per year would go up by about 5000%.

I was told to expect New Yorkers to be rude by everyone who HADN'T lived here. I was told the opposite by everyone who had. What I wasn't told is that "being rude" has completely different definitions for those two types of people. For people who live here, there are so many people, every day, asking you to stop walking where you're going, just essentially to waste as much of your time as possible. Selling you a cd of absolutely horrible hip-hop. Talking to you about donating to the "help this gay guy get an apartment in the lower west side" fund. Taking a survey to ask how you feel about the Wakashu tribe in Burkina Faso and their plite. The thing is, I don't have time to stop. Honestly. Because...

I was NOT told to expect for EVERYTHING to take longer to do here. If you want to go to the grocery store and buy bread, you're going to stand in line. Not wait behind a few people at the register. I'm talking about Cold War Russia stand in line. I mean, you stand in line for everything. They didn't tell me that. They didn't tell me.
You.
Will.
Wait.
In Line.
For.
Ever.
y.
Thing.
Sometimes, the lines move pretty quickly, because the stores here are used to handling long lines all day. So there are employees at "Trader Joes" (the major grocery in my neighborhood) or "Whole Foods" who simply stand at the start of the lines (about 10-15 lines form at a time - each a few dozen people deep... all day) and just direct traffic. "Sir, you can head to register 27, it's the 4 one past the 2nd pole on your left." "Ma'am, go to register 13. It's the closest to the 2nd exit door on from the right."

I was told lots of things about the city that weren't lies. Weren't really misleading, even. It's just that you really have to be here to experience it to understand. You see, if you expect to stand in line for absolutely everything, you plan for it. You never go to the store just for bread. You go with a list. You make it quick. You go with a friend, who gets in line for you as soon as you get there, and you shop quickly so you're done by the time they get to the front. You also never go with a large list, 'cause you're gonna have to carry all of it home when you're done. 4 bags, no matter how full, is pretty much the max. I am very fortunate to live near Union Square (where both of the aforementioned grocery stores are), and I still have a 15 minute walk one-way. Carrying a bag of dog food on one shoulder, and 4 bags of groceries in one hand gets old after a block. I walk about 12. About 2wice a week.

Then we get to the prices of things. Let's break this down. When I moved here, I was coming from a place where I spent about 35% of my monthly income on "home" (rent, utilities, cable, etc...), and another 45% or so on everything else (phone, car, insurance, food, etc...) and then I'd use pretty much all the rest on "gear" (new computer, guitar, paying for recording costs, etc...).

In the city, if you want to live in Manhattan, you're not going to need a car. So after all the expences add up, you get back about 20% or more that you don't have to spend now. Then, you just spend the rest on rent, right?

Sure. Except. You also need to have, on average, about 5 - 8 months rent ready. In cash. To get an apartment. You will NOT find a place for less than $1500 a month to live by yourself. Don't even look. You're going to move to Harlem, the Bronx, or MAYBE you'll find something in Brooklyn for that (again, if you're living alone). Not only that, but you need, on average, to prove an annual salary of about 40-60 times your monthly rent. That means if your rent is $1500 a month, you have to not only have about $10k to put down on an apartment, but then you need to prove that you make about $60k a year. Now, you'll make more money in New York, if you have the skill set to get a job here. However, if you don't move here with cash (which, I didn't), and your job doesn't pay for relocation (which, mine didn't), then you need what every New Yorker seems to have or have needed at some point... a couch buddy. You need a friend who will let you stay on their couch, use their shampoo, move their leftovers around in the fridge to make room for yours, tolerate your schedule, etc... for usually half the rent. (This, thankfully, I had - Matthew saved my life).

Now you're here. You've got a job, a place to stay, money coming in (and going out), and a plan (save, work, save, work, save, and save). I'm set.

Then I settled in. What No One told me about moving to New York are the subtle, psychological things that go along with it. The things that happen completely internally. The things that effect your mind. I was prepared for crowds of people being everywhere. I was prepared for loud traffic and constant distractions. I was prepared to see celebrities that eat at the same diners, and go to the same bookstores. But I wasn't prepared for the conflict.

What no one told me about New York was something that I really should have just figured out. That is: No matter what it is you want, you can find it here. Want sports? Everywhere you go, people are ready and willing to talk about the Knicks, the Yankees, the Giants, etc... Want religion? There are churches, cathedrals, mosks, synagogues, and temples everywhere. Want Entertainment? The best music, movies, art, and culture in the world finds it's way here.

What I really couldn't have gotten myself prepared for is the second part of that statement. The obvious opposite implication. That is: No matter what it is you are afraid of, you will be confronted with it here.

Afraid of conflict? People will tell you what they think, 'cause they don't have time for pleasantries when they're upset. They have somewhere to be, and they will tell you off in time to make their meeting.

Homophobic, Racist, aloof? There are flamboyant drag queens, strange "what is that?" couples, and (my personal favorite to see) Glamorous Gay Gangsters (think soft pastel colors of sports jersey's tied in knots at the stomach, drenched in Bling and Gold, talking ghetto with a lisp). There are truly intimidating thugs, built like GI Joe's, and constantly talking trash about violence to whomever is nearby. There are homeless people who will call you out and threaten you if you ignore them (but most of them are grateful if you treat them like a human). There is every cartoon-like character of every stereotype you can imagine.

Finally, there is the silence. What no one told me, and what I could not have possibly prepared myself for, is the simple majority of your day that you, out of basic courtesy for people around you (and they are ALWAYS around), are quiet. I work in an office where I share an open room with about 40 people. Not cubicles, just desks with the occasional dividing wall. I live with a roommate in a 13x15 ft apartment with a half kitchen, one bed, a futon, and a dog pin. You're never alone on the subway. You're never alone on the street. I find myself speaking about 1/2 as many words each day just because I'm simply trying "not to be loud". When I take a phone call at home, if my roommate's there, I go out into the stairwell so I can talk without disturbing him, 'cause there's no where else to go.

And somehow despite the constant crowds and the long lines, there is an unmistakable loneliness that hits you when you finally settle in. And that's where it breaks.

That's where you start becoming a "New Yorker", I think. When you learn to break through the silence with overt pleasantness and kindness and just ... talk to strangers. Standing in line at the grocery is the perfect time to talk to someone. It doesn't matter any more that they'll probably never see you again. You can see them now. So you talk to them. You talk about the weather. Because they're a human being, and if they've been here for more than a week or two, they feel the same way as you. They want contact. I want contact. I pine for community. I can't wait for Sunday so that I can make it to church and just connect with other human beings that I can count on to be there. I can't wait to go out so I can communicate with people, anyone.

I'm still in love with this city. But I feel the honeymoon ending, and I'm glad for it. I want to love it when the flame of being in love has burned out. I want to live here when I would rather be elsewhere. I want New York to keep me when I want to leave. But to get there, I've got to learn to perfect the art of talking to strangers.

Your friend and mine,
Meshach