I Kinda heart NY

I just got back from New York. That's right, the Big Apple, media capital of the world, center for culture, the city that never sleeps. At least that's what I've been told. I spent almost all my time at my grandparents house in the suburbs, and trust me, my grandparents house definitely DOES sleep. I would even go as far as saying it slumbers. It's half a step away from slipping into a coma. Bed time's 8:30 and it's strictly enforced.

So, it's safe to say that I didn't exactly experience the thrill of New York City, despite being a mere stone's throw away. I missed the rush of the subway, the rhythm of the streets, the smell of the cabbies, but I wouldn't classify the trip as a loss. I learned all sorts of valuable things. Such as, it doesn't matter if you lose a ton of weight and everyone else thinks you look fantastic, an Italian grandmother will think you look awful. Apparently, despite being a healthy weight for my height, I'm dangerously thin. My grandmother kept looking at me as though I were a cancer patient. She would lurk in shadows waiting to pounce on me, brandishing a meatball sub like a shining sword of justice ready to plunge it into my unsuspecting mouth. I couldn't let my guard down for a second. I'd wake in the morning with inexplicable marinara on my chin and the taste of garlic on my tongue.

I also came to the realization that I can no longer really talk to my grandparents, I can only talk around them. It's not that there's some horrible generation gap separating us. My grandparents simply can't hear anymore. I'm sure that over the course of a full week they only understood maybe 20 percent of what I said. I know they have a horribly inaccurate idea of what my life is like. I just got tired of correcting them. There's only so many times I can repeat something and there's only so loud I can talk. I just let them think what they like. It's easier on all of us. Here's an actual exchange:

Grandma: So, you do plays?
Me: Well, actually it's sketch comedy.
G: What?
M: Sketch comedy?
G: What?
M: SKETCH COMEDY! Like Saturday Night Live.
G: You perform on Saturday?
M: Yeah, whatever. (I nod emphatically in surrender)
G: What part do you play?
M: I play a lot of parts?
G: What?
M: MANY PARTS!!
G: What?
M: An officer in the Queens Navy.
G: Oh, a barber, how nice.

As if that wasn't bad enough, I had to put up with the most deafeningly loud television in the free world. My grandfather sits 4 feet from the television with what's left of his hair flapping to the decibels. And he still couldn't make half the stuff out. I couldn't escape the noise of the television. If you ever want to know what Bill O'Reilly is talking about all you need to do is be within a quarter mile radius of my grandparent's house. You can't miss it. Eighties rock band Scorpions could be playing a concert in the back yard and I would never know.

So, while I missed out on the traditional New York experience. I feel that I got something much more important. I got a crash course on why I only visit my family once a year, and how much it sucks growing old.

Shalom