Went to NYC yesterday with DalaiMama (CHANGE IT!!!) and another friend. It's a place that while being right next to my home city, never ceases to amaze me in one way or another. Every little moment spent there is almost unforgettable simply because of NYC's atmosphere and culture.
However, when DalaiMama (CHANGE IT!!!!) decided she needed to go to this hypnotic landmark of style, posh, and indescribable bravado, she had one particular item in mind:
It reads "My name is Mink. I like to read the fantasy story. I am very excited when I read."
We were at a place called the Pearl River Mart on Canal street. It's a huge store, resembling those 3 floor department shops you'll find on occasion. It sells every imaginable Asian item that anyone ever needed to see in order to figure out that they suck at translating English.
Many borderline racist Asian accent jokes ensued.
She brought a couple more containers similar to it, with equally as adorable messages. Our favorite was "I am Rhinda. I love the white cake." To which she was disturbed by its adorable and subtle racism.
The walk from the train station to the building equivalent of engrish.com was a quaint 10-15 minute trip. Me and my friend kept the humor alive, doing things such as yelling at tourists that Dalai was a queen, and me pretending to guide entire groups of strangers as they crossed the street.
The walk back was more perplexing, however, as our friend led us through the financial area, primarily Wall Street. I totally hated it. It's the mecca of everything that's wrong with the economy, and it made me and Dalai feel alienated.
It was like forcing a cat into a bathtub for me.
It was fun though, as we continued our exciting teenage habits by telling people they'd drop something as they hopelessly cranked their heads back to find nothing.
Also, there was this amazingly attractive girl who stood in front of me during one portion of our walk back. Red-head, short, nice body, gauges, black everything. She was meant to break my heart and never knew it. Don't even know why I mentioned this. Perhaps because I'm still in love.
Anyway, here are some pictures as we headed back home.
Michael J. Fox's immortalized signature in the train station.
Dalai and friend posing in front of said signature.
Friend being caught off-guard as he looks at Dalai.
She kept reading other people's newspapers. Very rude.
A picture of a stranger that will smartly sue me for posting this here.
Don't know why I took it to be honest. Coming from NYC, I always become allured by strangers. This was kind of the result of that.
Dalai standing in front of me, describing the article she'd nosily read off a paper.
And/or impersonating a fish.
Philosophy 101: Having come back from NY and the courageous little romp we had as we yelled at strangers and made asses of ourselves, what drives me personally to those things is the insane amount of people that constantly crisscross the sidewalks. I'm used to it having lived in populated urban settings all my life, but it's like the mecca of congested sidewalks. So it never stops surprising me.
Literally, there are tons, and tons, and tons of people.
However, the reason why it's a motivator is because, after about 6 minutes of shellshock from avoiding people and focusing on them as they pass by, the up-tempo shuffle of walking through NYC becomes a kind of autonomous involuntary motion.
At some point you just know you have to avoid these people to progress, and so your body just does. Eventually, people (the living, breathing, human organisms around you), become mere obstacles in the way of your destination after a while. They kind of lose their humanity. Makes me a little sad in a way.
So in a (perhaps vain) attempt to shock them out of their lull, I do absurd things like say "COME ON EVERYONE! LET'S CROSS THIS STREET TOGETHER!" out loud. I wanna make them realize the vibrancy of people in the middle of their routine walks.
Point is, don't let the strangers around you become lifeless obstacles. You kind of miss out on life that way.