Tuesday, August 12, 2008
New York v. San Diego, Round 1
It's no secret that I love San Diego. If I had to pick my favorite 5 cities in the world, SD would definitely be on that list. I mean, what's not to love? The year-round temperate weather, the beach, the restaurants, the fact that obtaining prescription drugs without a prescription is mere minutes away, I could go on and on. But I think my favorite thing about San Diego is its laid back culture. I find that people in that city are just generally pleasant to be around. (Except for the bums. They are generally not pleasant individuals, but we'll get to them at a later point in time.) No one seems to be in a rush to get anywhere. People will gladly stop and give you directions (the correct ones), bartenders will make sure you have a cab, and drivers will stop in traffic to let you cross the street even if they have the right of way. I'd love to see a native New Yorker try that last one on a NYC cabbie.
Now don't get me wrong, I love New York. It's my hometown, the city that never sleeps, the place where you can order a pastrami sandwich and a hooker at 2am, both will be delivered to your door and neither charge will appear on your credit card statement. I love the energy, the culture, the sense of self-righteousness that it instilled in me at such a young age. But oh my God, am I ever sick of the "fuck you" that New York seems to constantly be screaming at everyone. There is this continuous sense of competition, an omnipresent "mine is bigger, better, and cost more than yours, and therefore I am better" mentality that is making me run for the beach. Throw that on top of a culture built on rudeness, on waving your middle finger at anyone that doesn't move fast enough for you, on thinking that it's acceptable to scream "fuck you and your [insert racial slur here] sucking mother!" to a stranger and have no one look at you twice, and you can see why I think it's time to move on.
On to a place where I can wear my flip flops to work, where I don't have to wear a suit to court, where "sorry I'm late, I was surfing this morning and a huge wave knocked the shit out of me" is an acceptable excuse to give your boss. To a place where the sushi is fresh and the tacos are made with lobster, not because it's fancy, but because even the bums appreciate good lobster. On to a place where the millionaires drive hybrid cars, not because it's cool or because they can fit into more parking spaces, but because they actually care about gas prices and the environment. Onto a place where I can cross the street and call someone's mother a whore, and actually hear a woman gasp in horror.