I have come to the conclusion that I, like Chastity/Chaz Bono, have been stuck in the wrong body.
Okay! Breathe! I am not thinking about cutting off Mr. Winky and starting hormone treatments!
The wrong body that I am stuck in is that of a country boy; I am, at heart, a city boy! And if I could live in a city, it might as well be New York City, Manhattan precisely, if for no other reason than when the terrorists come after us again with big time nukes – and they will – I want to be with the people who just go right away, quick death, as opposed to sitting in Modesto watching the rest of the country slowly crumble.
So I have been practicing, and I think I must be getting pretty good at it because unless I am wearing my Billy Elliot cap, none of the annoying street hawkers – “Hey big guy, hey young man (hahahah), hey buddy; give to the homeless, wanna see some funny crap? (comedy club guy), you need pedicab ride?” – approach me.
The things I have learned:
1) Always walk like you are going somewhere important.
2) Never stop at a curb just because the red hand is up; if there is no cars coming, push through the tourists and cross the street.
3) Start to cross the street when a car is coming, then stop suddenly and laugh when the tourists who were following you nearly get killed by oncoming traffic.
4) Walk like you own the fucking street! Other people move for you; you move for no one!
5) Learn how to shout “Mother-fucker!” at just the right level so the bicycle guy who just ran a red light and nearly hit you won’t hear you, but everyone else around you knows you don’t take shit from bike guys!
6) And never eat anywhere within 1.5 long blocks of Times Square, with Juniors being the notable exception, of course.
7) Act like paying $12.50 for 6 tiny pieces of chocolate, $1.70 for an .85 roll of Breath Savers or $5.39 for a grande Caramel Mocha Frap at Starbucks when the same money will get you a venti in Modesto is no big deal.
8) Be completely oblivious to everyone around you, using your built-in human radar to navigate the dumb-ass tourists who stop right in the middle of the sidewalk to have a 12-person conference (argument?) in Swedish about where they are going to get ripped off for lunch, somewhere within that 1.5 Times Square perimeter.
So I think my training is complete. All I need now is to win $142 million (net $44 million lump sum after taxes), look up those guys on Selling New York and snag my little $12 million place on the park with a view.
Come visit me there!